#this is more than deconstructing it's dead on the floor

[jinxpologist]

"disco elysium is a detective sto-" "it's a detective rpg-" "it's about solving a mur-" wrong. baltic screen media review be upon ye

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

the Skin-suit au,, a tale of readerbot and body horror 💕💕💕

(could also be called the Hello Again au uwu)

Basically! Yknow how it’s been canonized that the security breach location has a scooping room?? Well that got me thinking! And basically, What if Readerbot pulled an Ennard?

There's some kind of big 'accident' at the 'plex- all you know is there are dead people on the floor, there's an alarm going off somewhere, and you know, with a sinking feeling and a growing terror, that you, and every other animatronic in this place, are doomed for deconstruction. Whoever it was that killed these people- oh, god, these people... what had they even done, for this to have been done to them? Anything?- has officially doomed this place. There will be no walking back from this. Someone somewhere is screaming. If you hadn't known better, you would have thought it was you; more than ever, you know that if you had a voice box you would have screamed until it broke. You're scared, of course you're scared- you don't want to be deconstructed, to be dismantled down to your bare parts and tossed or repurposed. You're not alive, you know that, of course you do, but the fear feels as real as the blood soaking the bottoms of your feet. You don't want to die. But what could you do? There's no where you could hide, not in this place, especially not if... he, thought you deserved the dismantling the rest of your kind would be getting and decided to hunt you down himself. You can't just run, you're not fast, and where would you go? There would be nowhere in the world for a staff-bot, not even one meant to fix things. You're not a human- you'll never know that kind of freedom, to run and hide and go wherever you wanted... You stare down at the bodies, at the way your shadow falls over them. You're not a human, but... Out of all the animatronics in the 'plex, you're one that looks the most like one. And the 'plex has an old machine, down in the subbasement. The kind that used to be used to take endoskeletons out of their shells.

You hate yourself with every fiber of your being as you drag one of the people down to the old, boarded up room. You hate the feeling of the cold, dead weight scraping across the floor as you lay them in the center of the desolate space. You hate the sound of the machine coming to life and the dull crunch of it doing it's intended purpose. You hate the color red, and you hate the wet, heavy feeling of the disguise you are forcing yourself into. Then the clothes... You were never allowed to wear clothes, maybe a hat if you were lucky. You find that you hate wearing clothes. You hate the way you've contorted your body into this... suit. You hate what you've done to create it. But you can hear sirens outside, now, and people screaming. You don't want to die. So, wearing the skin of a person who never asked to be killed, you run, and hope that the person who owned this skin, whoever they were, will understand what you've done and have a little pity on you. But you are not a person. You are not alive.

Years later, you've found ways to hide in plain sight. It's not that different from what you did when you worked at the 'plex, really, only now you're wearing your newest 'disguise' and several layers of clothes on top of that, and no one knows that really you're an animatronic gone AWOL. You can go out early in the morning or late at night and purchase the little things you need, or find something broken but interesting and take it home to fix it up. Later, you can sell these things to get the money you need to stay in places and buy other small things you can use to fix other things. It's a small life, but it's... yours. You don't have any friends, and no one really talks to you like you are one of them, but that's okay. The story you have to explain your silence and whatever other oddities you display is that you grew up with a 'condition.' You've started to carry around an old handheld that you can type sentences into and then have it say them aloud, at least until you've perfected your make-shift voicebox a little more. It's still a work in progress, but having your own voice was something you'd always dreamed of...

Sometimes you need to fix yourself. Your legs hadn't been built to last forever, especially not in the real outside world like this. So, sometimes, you had to search through old scrap yards for pieces and parts you could use. It was... gruesome work, yes, but you liked to think that these strangers didn't mind you using what was left of them. In a way, it helped to think that you were... helping them to live on, in some weird, morbid way.

You were on one of your junk-yard expeditions when you found a couple of crates marked through with 'DEFUNCT- DESTROY IMMEDIATELY' and, getting your hopes up, decided to pry them open. When you saw the insides, you paused. You looked again at the writing on the crates- faint and worn out, almost invisible under the 'defunct' stamps, you could just make out the old Freddy Fazbear's logo.

You spent hours combing through the containers one by one, stuffing things into your pockets and loading up your duffle with odd miscellaneous things that brought back such clear memories you could practically hear the band on the stage, the happy cries and laughter of the kids, the cheerful banter of the other animatronics... You found an old Monty toy that had once opened and closed its jaws at the push of a button, but the spring had long since broken or fallen out entirely. It was very sad looking, discolored and worn, but it still had his glasses. You stuffed it into your jacket. You didn't want to dwell on the choking sadness these things brought to you, but to leave them here would hurt even more.

And then you had broken open the last one, and, amongst the shreds of soggy paper and bits of debris, lay a familiar animatronic.

The daycare attendant, after all this time, had found you again- or, really, you had found him.

(skinsuit!readerbot takes the dca home and tries to fix them up, only to realize that they don't recognize them as the old staffbot from the 'plex, nor do they realize that they aren't human. shenanigans ensue,, including at some point Sun sees readerbot take the skin off their hand, fix a stuck joint, then put the skin back on. Moon does not believe him)

(yes they all fall in love)

(im a basic bitch ok leave me alone idk what u were expecting)

[brucewaynehater101]

i'm not sure how much you know about fnaf but there are a couple au's relating to that i keep throwing around in my head involving tim.

tim, terrified of animatronics which he's seen get stuffed with dead bodies or used to actively murder children, gets caught by older cousins/friends/secret third option and put into an animatronic's mouth, which bites down and crushes his skull. he recovers with the help of the drake's friend william who owned the restaurant (and is the murderer killing children), but suffers night terrors. the drakes then offer to take him to the circus that's in town as per recommendation from their therapist and we all know how that goes.

now tim's triple traumatized and the drakes ask the help of william to take care of how tim's behaving, and he constructs the plot of fnaf 4, with giant haunting robots attacking him in his bedroom, to experiment around with tim while his parents are outside of the country, and any time he tries telling them the truth they chock it up to trauma.

eventually, william, as per fnaf lore, gets killed in a confrontation of the ghosts of the children he killed, stuffed in a golden bunny suit. without him the robots that haunt him are still active, but without william around there's nothing stopping him from leaving the house, encouraging his stalking habits and allowing him to see batman and robin in action. he becomes obsessed with them and he becomes robin and red robin and what not.

then he finds out that william is still alive in the suit, and is killing nightguards and experimenting with the other dead children, and he tries to stop him, first going to an underground storage facility to enact the plot of fnaf sister location, where at the end his internal organs get scooped out and his empty body used as a husk for the robots in the facility to escape.

eventually, tim's body decays and they leave, but tim is still alive somehow. now tim is undead, and is working on deconstructing the robots and ending the legacy of william, freeing the souls in the process. the entire time, the bats being ignorant to what he's doing until he kills himself in a fire with everything related to fazbear, william, and the robots.

i prefer the bats, and other heroes or villains, being there while the robots from the facility (ennard), leave red robin/tim drake's body. the cutscene from the game is 8 bit, but in essence he starts shaking, his eyes go black, his jaw unhinges and he falls flat to the floor as the entity leaves his body. he gets up eventually, but when could change the story alot.

i know some parts are vague but idk how much fnaf lore you know and it's an interesting idea even without full knowledge of the story of the fnaf games. just tim having an extreme traumatic experience as a child, viewing batman and robin's ability to overcome their experiences by working together and keeping gotham safe and thinking more highly of them because he associates them with freedom and nights of peace even though he doesn't sleep.

this is getting really long BUT every time bruce sends tim home tim has to face actual nightmare creatures trying to kill him with more broken or hurt limbs than he would have otherwise. and bruce just doesn't notice.

Fuck. I really don't know much about FNAF lore, so this was a bit of a wild ride (in a good way!). The only exposure I've had to FNAF is playing what I think was the first game (though I couldn't live past the second night) and one MHA fic. The fic was a very very interesting concept of Midoriya, before he went to UA, getting trapped in a virtual world by someone's quirk. He basically had to complete 7 horror games as if he was living through them. One of the games was FNAF (and the animatronics gain consciousness. It's freaky). I didn't finish the fic, but the concept was rad as hell.

I haven't read it, but there are also some FNAF fics with Tim and John Constantine.

I love how much your AU is torturing poor Tim. He doesn't get a break when he's done with Robin. He's got to continuously deal with all this shit and traumatize his family with the way he dies. I'm a little lost on the exact timeline here, but I'm vibing with the ideas

[suffarustuffaru]

I think I read a while ago on reddit that you had a madoka magica au for re zero, do you still think about it? I can Imagine Subaru taking the place of Homura but the rest of the cast is harder to place. It's a fun thought exercise though.

WAIT wow your ask sent me down memory lane wkdndn i forgot i even had a madoka magica au in the works for a while. i made it in like late 2020 and last worked on it in early-mid 2021 hah mostly bc my skill with writing and art didnt match with how big of an idea a multichap plotty crossover/fusion au was and i was still just dipping my toes into more ambitious ideas!! but id love to revisit it again now that i got more practice 👍

i like read your ask then went WAIT A MINUTE I DO HAVE A MADOKA MAGICA AU and then i skimmed through my old google doc plot outline for it in a frenzy. but also i used to write in yellow comic sans at the time so i wont subject you to my old terrible (affectionate) writing habits too much. but i think its funny how i had some notes on vague (and Dead Serious) ideas for witch form symbolism and i just found this yellow comic sans monstrosity:

2020/21 me was on some drugs probably LMAO 😭😭 but given madoka magica’s canon content that is probably a good thing if youre writing serious madoka magica fic.

also i did have a tiny bit of finished writing for it. here is the old synopsis past me came up with:

Stumbling across magic and witches, fourteen-year-old Natsuki Subaru follows his new friends and a mischievous cat spirit into a world where a single contract could grant you your greatest wish.

And at the end of it all, he really should’ve known this from the start: wishes always come with a cost.

i think that currently id probably change up this synopsis a bit if i worked on it again but it aint bad i think 👍 and yes youre right subaru would def be in homuras role for this fic… 😔 anyone whos seen both madoka magica and rezero would immediately make that connection i think hah they have. Similarities, as we know 😔

and i deaged some of the rezero cast as you can see hah. not sure if id keep that but i think an important aspect of madoka magica is that the main characters are that young. it helps add to some of their decisions and adds to the tragedy and whatnot. that and like. targeting vulnerable young girls, Literal Children, knowing that most would make a wish and sell their souls in a heartbeat and then easily be crushed by trauma without being able to fight back much, you know? :,) and then theyd make Lots and Lots of despair to harvest… and madoka was meant as a magical girl deconstruction and magical girls iirc tend to be arounddd early teens/preteens!! ill talk a bit more later on how id try to do this au with deaged rz cast hah.

also i did have a small drabble written for this au!!

The boy, no older than fourteen, stands there with an eerie sense of calm.

His frame is seemingly scrawny and lean, dawning dark clothing reminiscent of a mixture between a tracksuit and a school uniform - even if it’s adorned with golden ribbons and stripes - with a whip attached to the belt at his waist. Draped over that is a cloak, the hood of it casting a shadow over messy black hair and a cold expression. His keen eyes, emphasized by the deep bags underneath, narrow at the sight of Puck, mean and brimming with distaste.

With a steady hand, he raises a pistol to Puck’s head.

The moonlight shines dimly through the broken windows and onto the shards littered all over the floor. A beam illuminates a metal contraption, its appearance similar to a shield, strapped to the boy’s forearm.

“You know, I don’t quite recall making a contract with you,” Puck muses cheerily, though an undercurrent of a threat weaves itself into his tone. He stares down the barrel without fear, his sharp teeth revealed in his smile. “Who are you, really? And why are you so upset that I’ve been getting close with Lia? Jealous much?”

“Don’t you dare call her that,” the boy replies instead, bitterly spitting out each and every word. “Don’t you dare pretend that you only have her best interests at heart, or that you really care for her like a father figure would. It makes me sick.” He sneers as he digs the cool metal of the gun harder into Puck’s fur. “Because if you make even just one mention of creating a contract with her, or if you even come near her… I’ll definitely make sure that you regret it.”

yeah so. past me made puck kyubey apparently 😔👍 and if i revisited this au im not sure if i would keep subarus character development to be Exactly the same (ie it was very greedbaru/pridebaru/homura inspired) but this drabble was a fun exercise at the time!!

but anyway i will ramble about some more ideas i had for this au under the cut!! turned out past me had A Lot of ideas.

yes so this au was like. a fusion of sorts so yes i was assigning rz characters certain roles, blending worldbuilding together, etc etc but the general plot sort of followed the general story of the main madoka magica plot from the main show to rebellion!! it was like vaguely modernish too, but you know, madoka likes to be Creative with its backgrounds (see: the infinite amount of crazy chairs everywhere, which im still very fond of to this day) and also rz vainglory/school if has its fantasy world cast mixed in with subarus parents still being there iirc and a whole bunch of other details too (like beatrice being subarus adopted sister iirc?). so i was going the vainglory-ish route here in terms of “how modern is this world?” 👍

the main cast i was focusing on was gonna be subaru (homura), emilia (madoka), rem (sayaka), ram, beatrice, felt, and reinhard. also puck as kyubey haah and satella as walprugisnacht aka the giant witch at the end of the main show. i havent seen madoka in a bit wkdn i gotta rewatch. but anyway!! felt and reinhard got a mix of mami and kyokos roles narrative wise yeah.

quick rundown on their characters is that i wanted to stick to the rz cast’s canon characterization as much as possible while leaving room for fun experimentation!! and if theyre still younger than normal canon here—subarus still got his Big Ego/Im The Main Character mindset but in that way thats specific to his little kid self bc he hasnt gotten Completely Depressed yet (think like. arc 7-8 type stuff), reinhards still stuck in the middle of watching his dad gradually deteriorate, felts even Younger and still trying to find her footing a bit, rem is Guiltily and enviously trying to live up to ram’s Golden Childness (this is pre-Incident That Kills Their Whole Family). and emilia has lived a lonely life in the forest somewhere with no one for company :,) i cant remember if i had some Magic Mindfuckery ideas for her backstory here but ive definitely had ideas for modernizing her backstory for other aus like this!! but either way emilias family is still dead ;-; and i do consider like. the idea that modern emilia would have albinism, especially when there is discrimination in place against people with albinism that is a little similar to emilias canon struggle with her appearance so a modern take of emilia being that she is someone with albinism would be Very Relevant!! but!! not sure if id go all the way with that bc its a sensitive topic that needs to be treated with care and i dont personally have albinism 👍 or i could go the magic route and go “emilia looks like a previous magical girl thats become the most powerful witch yet….” ie satella ofc. so emilia would still be a bit of a “red flag” to other magical people.

but yes emilia wished for. im not sure but probably smth like “i wish not to be lonely anymore”…………. and then she got her wish granted via having magical girl/boy friends and puck!!!!! thisll totally end happily.

and quick note on reinhard is i didnt have much plot ideas for him yet but i considered different ideas for his backstory!! maybe theres some magic fuckery and theresia was a magical girl once? no clue how that works but it was an Idea i had for sure. also various ideas to modernize the Astrea Family Drama (dont worry the accidental indirectly/directly causing your family member’s death thing would still be there wkdndh this is an important detail to me.) but regardless of whats going on with reinhards backstory his wish was a naive little kid wish!! he wanted to be a hero who helps people ;-; good going reinhard ;-;

the entire plot of this au in general was divided in half, first half would be the first timeline where things go wrong. subarus gonna be the pov and hes the audience surrogate bc hes new to the world of magical girls/boys and no one in the group 100% knows the ugly truth yet!! and like in canon emilia/madoka has already become a magical girl here. emilia is also already close with puck—and emilia is the one person puck has genuine fondness for ;-; and i had a Lot of ideas for what exactly went wrong here—i had elsa and meili planned as witches? and i think i considered disemboweling felt :<<<< this is very sad bc her family gave her away to save her bc they were in danger (yes just like in canon rz) but then later felt had her life threatened or smth? and like mami, felt wished to keep living. but the wording felt used was wanting to “live strong”…………….. well she sure got it by fighting elsa valiantly but still losing 😔

also ok the first person to become a witch is beatrice. i had like wild ideas with beatrice—the possibility that echidna still made beatrice and puck and that beatrice couldve been a failed—whats the word for the creatures in madoka that collect/cause magical girls??? incubators i think?? yeah that. because whatre the two things a little kids gonna probably trust?? a cute cat creature and a tiny little girl offering free wishes, probably. and of course beatrice got assigned by her biomom echidna to look after echidnas library maybe. bc echidnas funny like that and beatrice didnt work out as an incubator so now shes gonna generate soooo much despair when she realizes that there is no That Person + the truth of magical girls/boys and what beatrice was meant to be used for….

yes more various shit hits the fan bc rem and rams canon witch cult backstory… i had plans to adjust it for this au and make it happen In Real Time. and also rem’s wish was probably something along the lines of wanted to be needed. and Better. so not just Like Ram. but rem wanted to be More than ram. which rem is guilty about but thats still what she wants so she wishes for it away from rams eyes. ofc rams feelings on this is that she just wants her sister to treasure herself and be safe and whatnot but rem is kinda in her pre-witch cult trauma mode and Oops now their town is destroyed in flames and their family is dead ;-;;; not sure how else id modernize rem and rams backstory but yes this is. this is how their plot went in that first timeline wkdnd. and ram is injured in some way ;-;;;

yes and then rem you know pulls a sayaka and goes a little crazy about everything bc beatrices whole ordeal already revealed how fucked they all are and then rem and rams Trauma just happened so rem feels like shit!! and then she becomes a witch too oops ;-; and then reinhard decides to be the hero and sacrifices himself so emisuba can escape ;-;; or at least that was my plan at the time. but yeah rem became better (a magical girl. bc ram didnt feel like making a wish bc her only wish would be wanting rems happiness but she didnt want to Cheat That. she wanted rem to find it on her terms. except rem became “better” and bigger than ram by being a witch also oops. also i think i still had vague plans to include rem being Obsessed with subaru to contrast what will later be subarus emilia obsession haha) and then reinhard. is the hero. </3

satella comes in somewhere at the end. she used to be a magical girl but she became a witch and shes Crazy Powerful for reasons i have forgotten now 👍 but i definitely wanted to have more shenanigans going on with her backstory to keep that sort of emilia-satella-subaru mystery connection. and theyre still connected anyway bc emisuba inevitably lose to satella bc shes too powerful ;-; emilia is gonna die and puck realizes OH SHIT I SHOULDNT BE FEELING LOVE BUT I DO GENUINELY LOVE EMILIA I CANT DEAL WITH THIS. WITH HER DYING. ID RATHER DESTROY EVERYTHING THAN LET THAT HAPPEN. and ofc subarus also in agreement bc oh god oh god—and yeah. subaru hasnt made a wish until this point but he makes a contract with puck to promise to save Everyone. like subarus promise in canon right before he dies for the first time you know? bc then he dies.

and wooooo the time loop officially begins!!! i had more ideas but i have typed lots on this post already akfnd maybe ill save it for another time if people are interested.

but yes thats all thats the au!!!! i am not familiar with stuff like magia record yet sadly ;-;; but if i ever wanted to expand the au thats def One option 👍 bc WOW the rz cast would be such a goddamn gold mine for those fucking incubators. little kid felix argyle would be a Top Tier candidate for them. like can you imagine???? thatd be the biggest disaster of all time ;-;;; and also theres Lots of possibilities for various witches the cast can fight!! very fun stuff its why i chose elsa and meili and satella :o !! but yes id consider exploring other candidates for magical girls and boys as well bc WOW felix would go insane here.

[clouds-by-me]

The scales of a savior

Characters ;; Freminet, lyney, and Lynette Warnings ;; drowning, blood, almost dying, wounds/scars, burning, kinda long(ig??) Word count ;; 1.5k An | this was supposed to be Sagau, but somehow it turned into this. Also this took so long to publish like bffr

Far beneath the land, past all of the lively plants and animals of the surface, there’s a cave.

Dark, and cold, nothing like an embracing hug from a loving mother. More like the emptiness of a grave site. Old and lonely, with only thoughts to fill in whatever sound is supposed to be there.

Water drips from the ceiling, falling into a larger body of water down below. The cave with a jagged ceiling and walls is full of water, that almost reaches the top, leaving a pocket of cold air.

The water is no different, however. The cold stillness of the water brings no comfort. It’s sends spikes of frost throughout your body. Starting at some unknown place within, then sprouting out to attack every part of the human body.

At the floor of the cave, broken statues lay as if it was a graveyard of bodies. Each one different, and cracked from its top to bottom. Parts of each were broken off, rather it’d be without its arm, or leg, its hand, or head. Plants grew on some of them, covering the cracks lefts behind on the statues.

Seven statues in total, all well withered and deformed to an hideous extent. The statues were hard to recognize, any detail that was once on the statues were now worn off, and forgotten to the darkness. Comparing the statues to the state they were once in, its a shame to see how far they have fallen. One statue in particular, however, looked worse than all of the other combined. The head of the statue was detached, lost to somewhere unknown, the abyss probably. Chips and cracks littered every inch of the statue, the only recognizable piece of the statues was the deconstructed shape.

The person that the statue imitated was a person who was tall. The body of that of a warriors, from the tight shoulders, and stiff form, it could almost be described as closed off.

Dead plants surrounded the stone figure, and hugged it, as if it wanted some kind of support or safety. The only thing it got in return was silence. A cold shell, drowned in even colder water.

======================

A blond diver swims alone, in the sea of his homeland, he swims. The water to him is a safe kind of relief on his body. As he uses his arms to move himself forward, he looks around. Ferminet has nothing that he is looking for, he has been through this part of the ocean many times before. The further he ventures, the less he sees however. The occasional otter or seal that typically swims around, is no where in his line of sight. Using his arms and legs, he continues to venture forward. The deeper he goes into the depths, the more he can hear. The sound of something talks to him in an inaudible tone.

Though his brain screamed at him that something deathly lie ahead, his body did nothing from stopping him from venturing deeper into the cold. The water cooled the further that he went, away from the brightness of the suns rays, away from the safety of the light.

His body moved as if being pulled on a string. He doesn’t control where hes going, he doesn’t even know where he is. The way the water surrounds him is a kind of surreal feeling. Nothing likes hes felt before. Though welcoming, his brain knows that he shouldn’t be going this far away from the surface, so why doesn’t he stop?

The water goes against his brain, and he feels his body continue to move as water seemingly win the battle. Though now far from the surface, he can still see. No light reflects this deep down, so him being able to see every jagged edge, every corner, every spike, comforts him. It’s a similar feeling that he gets when hes with his older siblings.

Soon he makes it to the bottom, where everything is sharp, and rigged with shape. He turns to look around, taking in everything bit by bit. It’s when he sees a stone surface that he finally feels cold. A shiver runs through his body, but he moves closer.

“vas, aude in custodia…”

The sound is in a language that he does not know, a song that he can’t understand. It doesn’t sound like someone he knows, it doesn’t even sound like someone’s voice, more like an echo of a song, in a different language. In a tone of music, but somehow it soothes him.

“Accede propius, Vas creationis.”

“Accede propius”

The sound is almost a muffled song, the closer he moves, the more sounds he hears. Yet the song has yet to grow any louder, it stays a musical whisper of the water. Seeing the stone closer, he now comes to realize that this is a statue, beautiful as it lies, covered in a think substance, more dense than the water that surrounds it.

The boys feels a cold shift, as he reaches closer, wanting to feel the material even though he was sure what it was. His mind had yet to agree with any of these actions, but by now, his thoughts had become something of the past.

Who needs those pesky thoughts anyway? They’re just there to make you second guess what is clearly correct.

When his hand grazes across the stone, he realizes that the stone is warm, opposite of the cold water that he floats in now. It feels like pyro, it reminds him of his older brother, in a way. The blond wonders if his brother would enjoy this?

The thought left as quickly as it came, no matter how much he pondered over the thought, he couldn’t remember what he was just thinking about. The warmth that radiated from the statue continued to grow. Alarms in his head started to sound as the heat continued to get much more intense, yet he couldn’t seem to pull away.

His body mistakingly believed that the burning heat that warmed his body was safe, though it was quite the opposite. The thing that prevented to cold from eating him alive slowly was now consuming him much faster-

“Hey what are you doing!? Don’t touch that!” The sound was clear unlike everything else under the depths. He didn’t realize until he broke from the water and was now breathing air, that somehow, he got away.

His lungs felt hot as salty water erupted from the pits of his lungs. He grabbed onto his chest as he heaved, and his torso raised and fell at an uncontrollable paste. For a long time his body burned, as he tossed and grabbed at the fabric, something wasn’t right. he couldn’t tell if the water that was in his eyes was the start of tears or the end of sea water.

The water that spilled from his mouth prevent any and all noise from coming from his throat, unless it was that unbearably harsh sound of him coughing.

“Hey! Hey!” He almost missed the sound of someone talking to him, by now he could tell that water was coming from grey his eyes. “I’m going to grab you, ok?” He couldn’t answer, and he was sure that the person, whoever they were, could understand that. His body was lifted and moved to a new position, where his head was propped up onto something wet, but firm.

Water brushed against in him in soft waves. Something was pressed against his shoulders, and as if nothing happened, he sat up.

=============

“How are you feeling?” His older sister asks as she hands him a cup and saucer.

“Better…” He mumbled with his head down. The feeling of guilt had washed over him so many times by now that he’d been drowned by it. He remembered both of his older siblings saying that they’d spent hours looking for him. They asked so many people of they had seen him, only for everyone to respond with the same pitiful answer.

“No, I haven’t, but if I do see him, I’ll tell him that your looking for him.”

They heard it so much so that Lyney had just stopped asking entirely. This left Lynette to have to do all the talking by herself, while Lyney looked around.

The only way that they were able to find him was because they heard someone shouting, and they hopped that whoever was making such a noise was their little brother. Only to find his unconscious body, drenched in water. His helmet was no where to be found, and his right hand had a make shift bandaged on it made of kelp.

“I’m sorry..” was the only words that he could mutter, he felt too ashamed to say anything else. Fearing that if he did, he’d somehow say the wrong thing.

“Also,” Lynette continued “I found this in your hand, did you find it while diving?” She showed him a scale, sharp, and shiny. It had been too large to have been owned by any normal fish, and was a unique shade of teal.

“No..” His words trailed off. Where did this beauty come from?

[dick-meister]

The absolute deconstruction of Adam’s mental in UC verse has me feeling a bunch of ways.

Like, he started out hopeful, trying his hardest to work things out with Lucifer and Lilith and actually did! They were having a good bit of fun and at one point Lucifer started to catch the tiniest bit of feelings for Adam. He talked to Roo for the first time in a long time to which he made amends for things between them as well.

Feeling good and having trust in them, Adam was fully prepared to go and talk to Sera and get an audience for all of them to talk about G’s plans but funnily enough, Adam’s own superior wouldn’t hear him out and locked him away for an amount of time he wasn’t even sure of. There he was bombarded by memories of himself and of Eve that tortured him pretty much.

At the time, he was feeling like the people of Hell were a lot better than those in Heaven only on the sheer fact that they listened to him and would listen to him. However after being broken out of the white room, everything changed dramatically. Lilith approaching Adam and trying to get him angry just so he could kill her in said anger, while around Lucifer, messed him up on the inside. He knew she was right on some levels but how it was done was just… wrong and left him literally beaten and half dead. Where else was he supposed to go after that but home?

Home, where he was now a fugitive if spotted by anyone who worked for the council as Sera had never allowed him to leave the White Room and if found, he would have been sentenced to fall. Only to just… lie on the ground for a day, bleeding and being alone up until Charlie was ported to him by G himself as a test to see if Charlie would finish him off right then and there. The sad thing is, looking back on it now, Adam would have preferred her to do so.

There was a bit of regained hope for him at that time, talking to Charlie and taking care of her made him feel a little better in a way that he wasn’t so alone. But there was a growing feeling of abandonment that was quickly getting bigger and bigger.

Eventually, Charlie leaves back to Hell, Lute tells him of Sera wanting to summon him after an accidental slip of the tongue and they ditch to Hell together. At least at the Hotel he got some time to rest, however that wouldn’t take long to be disrupted, learning of Charlie’s death, then having to fight Charbringer and eventually give up fighting her knowing that it was wrong to do so and he died.

Adam still remembers feeling the pain of death, being dead and his soul slipping away. Even though, somehow it was reverted and Lute took his place in his stead to which he had to watch Lute die, and then watch Charlie die in his arms…

After that, he buried Lute and just gave up. Adam went home and felt nothing. He’s lost so much and when looking around himself for who he had, who was he supposed to go to for help? He didn’t view himself as anything but a joke to everyone, someone to pin blame to, someone to leave in the background. Of course Angela tried to console him, but he wanted people who knew him to help him, love him, because those who don’t know him say the wrong things, make assumptions and cause him to feel even more lonely and wrong.

His mentality at this point was so shattered that when Eve, who is absolutely alive, showed up. He thought she was just a figment of his imagination, more White Room BS who helped a little but once he left to see Emily and found out that Sera had passed in battle, he found that he really couldn’t feel anything towards it. He felt bad for Emily, but the feelings of it was all light and on the surface.

Once he got home, that’s when he made the decision, if he was doomed to be nothing more than a after thought then he would just go back to being the villain he once pushed himself past. It’s the only way he knew how to cope and it’s not like anyone was coming around to help him anyways, it was either the mask or lay on the floor until the Cycle ended and he couldn’t sit back and do that.

He’s come full circle, and that’s really sad but also an incredibly interesting character ‘development’ that’s happened over time. I thought Adam would end up being a hero through this story, showing off bravery, selflessness and care but… this has all gone so against him that he just can’t feel those things anymore or much of anything.

UC is…. Not great for Adam lol

[forflightlessbirds]

liveblogging tmagp 22 except it's really incoherent

INTRO BABY I MISSED TOU

grrrrr alex j newall ily

mixed signals ooohhh

29 minute episode oouhh

IT STATETRD

GWEN BACK. GWEB BWEGGN BACK.

"watching figure you mentioned" NO. STOP STOP SHRJEIF SYOP NDOKS

"i know what you're doing." 2hat

LENA THREATENING. OH LORD. i don't liek womrn but for her

that thing was an EXTERNAL???

DEMOTION?????????? WHATSTT.

don't quit bbg

she didn't!!!!

yeaaah gwen stop being unstable GWEN

stop theyre so. ugh i hate them all

CASEMENT STARETD

it's a lteer???

AUGUSTUS I MISSED YOUUUUUUU

experimentation??

oh no. experiments on thibgs

alarmign results???

EXPERIEMNYS ON PEOPLE??????? STOP THIS.

i must say i don't like this

charts??! brain charts????

using silver for conductivity... ooooyh

you did what with the wires

erratic results??

okay the double coil makes sensw

PHOTO

the work of whom.

REPUTATION???

no no not intensive

he had a RIGHT to be hesitant.

CONSTANTINE

I'M WHAY NOW HE DID WHAT

oh no i don't like this

2 seperate animals in one bofy.. where gave i heard that before.

i can see where this is going oh no oh lord

QUESTIONS OF THE SELF.

as you sjoild

data reviewing.. yaaay

me too bae

OCEAN. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO

RADIO SIGNALS AND OCWANS OG FUCKS SAKES

these two things would never meet

okay fun science

deconstructed them all and did what with then.

WHAT WAS THE DEISGB

oh no no no plumbing

questions of the self part 2: electric boogaloo

TICKING.

"imagine yourself." i don't inow

i kind of love tmagp's more intimate feeling to it. it feels less detached than tma an d i love it

UNCHARACTERISTIC WHIMSY

oh no he's sending

imagine yourself

dead. oh no

yaaaayy activity

TIDAL WAVE IF SIGNAL

i loeeeveee

oh no wait actually this seems Dangerous

FUCK. NO. THERE WILL BE A REPLY????

SMOKE

what on EARTH happened

ursula are you oajy

ursula. what is happening

is he okay?? is she okay???? what's happening

hear WHAT.

be patient with your wife fuckass

OH NO THE PATIENT

oh my lord????

good lord. arteries.

SCREAMING

tetanus comparison

rictus.

his tongue.

crescendo.

cracking.

background music i love it

WHAT.

they severed the sense of self.

shiiiiiit.

IT'S ON THE FLOOR

oh he's dead

"you could not hear it?" what.

"just another case of unfortunate frontier science" die

what did you find. this better have been worth it

a pattern you say

OH SHIT WHAT DID HE REALISW

there's no misfile.

FINGERPRINTS PROVE IT

what did you understand??

"she was always a better communicator than i" yeah makes sense babe

what had she HEARD.

oh my god

oh holy shit

holy shit

we are.

i am here.

here alone

we are i alone

all alone

so alone together

together alone

i think we get the message

he's alone

help

help we us

alone

help out

OUT????

WAIT.

i'm connecting threads.

i don't know what they are but i'm connecting them

violence is discovery of life or something idk man

yeah you delay those findings babygirl

robot voice again

WAIT. I KNOW THAT NAME

casement ends.

ALICE AND SAM

OH SHIT HE KNOWS

i hate her and him and UGH

he knowszs

alice you're really in it now

okay sam you're being a bit mean

but alice is also being a little obsessive

alice is losing all her friends around her.

she's just like me fr

"i just thought that you'd be different. that you might actually listen to me" sobbing

why is she still here. good point.

it's easy money??

oh lord she's me

"we could-" alice honey we all know you're not over him

ohhhh theyr3 so complex ily

OOH WHAT'S HAPPENING NOW

sam and celia oooh

i can't hear a word they're saying actually

SHE CAN EITHER GET OVER IT OR GET LOST??? OUCH.

celia stop encouraging ot. this isn't healthy celia

names??

JON AND MARIOGIB

JMART.

J. MART. MENTION. WHAT. THE.

OH MY GOD

OH MY GOF OGG MY GOFK THEYRU BACK TEHEY RYHD WHAT TTAHT WEHAT DOES YHDI MEAN

EPISOODE ENFS

FUCK

[darlincollins]

the wave returns to the ocean: chapter 1 (two lifetimes ago)

prologue

note: we are proceeding on energy alone here and not one scrap of historical accuracy both for i-didn't-do-research purposes and also logistical-leaving-darlin-as-not-gender-specific purposes!

tag list: @dollscircus @angel-shaw @taelonsamada @friendlyfaded @darlin-collins @romeo-the-homeo

----

Sam ducks into the covered tent just as the fire elemental on stage is wrapping up her show to clamorous applause, and pushes his way as close to the front as he can manage given his lateness. He doesn't mind missing these earlier acts; really, there's only one he's come to see. The heat from the spectacular images the performer has conjured up in flames lingers a few long moments after she's dissolved their forms and taken her bows, causing a number of audience members to produce either fans or small breezes, depending on their aptitudes, as they wait for the next act to begin.

The lights, aided by magic, swivel up to the impossibly high ceiling of the tent as tense music begins to swell. Audience members murmur amongst themselves, squinting in confusion at the apparently unoccupied space tangled with ropes, bars, hoops, and silk strands dangling downward, and Sam settles in with a smile. They'll know the start of the show when they see it; subtlety has never been Darlin's strong suit.

A few frightened gasps break out as people begin to catch sight of the wolf balanced on a narrow plank way up at the top of the tent. Those turn into screams as the wolf leaps from the beam, seemingly suspended in the air for several long moments as they fall before canine turns human milliseconds before they twist and grab onto a thin bar hanging from ropes connected to the metal frame of the tent.

They swing a few times to gain momentum, and then flip from that bar to one of the dangling hoops, effortlessly twisting themself through and around it to resounding cheers.

Darlin' keeps the audience on the edges of their seats for the rest of the routine, spinning and tossing themself through the air before finishing the routine with a dead drop that gets even Sam's heart racing despite knowing that their control is perfect; indeed, a moment before they hit the ground they break their own fall and slowly bring themself to the floor, offering the crowd a flippant wave instead of a bow before disappearing behind the stage.

Sam ducks out before the next performance begins, heading around the magically enhanced tent to what's serving as the backstage and living area- little more than heaped boxes that once contained fireworks or cannons or the trapeze sets and a number of wagons piled with more boxes, crowded among the unevenly spaced, smaller tents. The horses which cart the deconstructed circus from show to show are unhitched and grazing; Sam weaves between them to where his darlin' is sitting on the ground. Of course in the brief minutes it took him to join them, they have already earned the eternal devotion of a stray cat, purring as it rubs against their leg and arches its body into their hand to be pet.

"I've gotta admit, when you told me you were joinin' this rig I had my doubts, but that was damn impressive," he calls, and the cat startles, fleeing under the protective cover of a nearby wagon.

They turn to look up at him as he approaches, shoot him a flash of that rare, devastating smile, and Sam falls in love all over again. It's no longer surprising or offputting, as it was the first few times, and now he's only glad for the opportunity. "Sure beats that shifter fighting ring, huh? I guess you won't have so many chances to come keep all my limbs attached anymore."

His heart clenches. Are they saying goodbye? This can't be it already. "I guess not."

"Maybe-" Darlin' shifts nervously back and forth, avoiding his eyes. "I mean, it is still pretty dangerous, though, right? Wouldn't want to break something and not even know about it until too late."

"This comin' from the same shifter who told me you were 'basically alright to keep fighting' after I had to replenish about half your blood volume?" Hope stirs in his chest again. If they still want to see him...

"Yeah, well..." they glance at him briefly, looking almost sheepish. "I guess you're rubbing off on me, mother hen. But anyway- if you wanted, I mean- maybe you could come back sometimes. For medical... check ups. And I could tell you about all the unsafe things I've been doing that make your face get all scrunched up, and you could lecture me about wise decision-making and bones and stuff?"

"Hmm..." Sam pretends to consider, unable to resist the urge to tease a little. People have been less disappointing and hurtful to his love in this life, so far, and he relishes the amused confusion he can draw from them in a lifetime where they don't fear the uncertainty so much. "I think I've got a better idea."

"What's that?"

"You let me take you to dinner, and that way we can skip the lecture about regular meals. Save more time for your horrifying stories about jumpin' off buildings and fighting loose bears."

Darlin' perks up noticeably, and he fights back a grin. "Really? You would- I mean, you want to?"

"Course I do, darlin'. You're the most amazing, stress-inducing, beautiful person I've ever met. I'll always want more time with you."

They have no idea just how much he means it.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 815: Nomeansno Sex Mad

My first introduction to Nomeansno was hearing Sex Mad's "Dad" on a punk rock radio show on Oahu's Radio Free Hawaii station sometime around 1991 or 1992. The song's straightforward fury and harrowing depiction of domestic abuse carried the musical power and lyrical urgency that was like a drug to my young teenage mind. But I wouldn't actually hear the rest of Sex Mad until my college buddy dropped this LP on my doorstep a decade later.

The first two tracks off Sex Mad---the title track and the aforementioned "Dad"---sound like classic early North American hardcore. But that one-two-punch opening sequence was a Trojan Horse. By track three we have "Obsessed," a twisted and puzzling instrumental song that's like a punk version of Rush's "YYZ" (side note: I wouldn't actually hear Rush until sometime around 1997, and I distinctly remember thinking "this sounds like an arena rock version of Nomeansno"). Then there's the a cappella shout-fest "No Fgcnuik." These aren't exactly the kinds of departures that your average liberty-spiked punk wants to hear. Side one wraps up with "Love Thang" and "Dead Bob," both of which deconstruct hardcore's rage with syncopated rhythms, jarring shifts in song structures, and a general musical aptitude that one could only imagine both intrigued and puzzled the punks back in 1986.

Things get even weirder (and WAY cooler) on Side 2. "Self Pity" is the kind of protracted, exploratory, slow-build jam that completely avoids the three-chord, top-speed formula of hardcore. Instead, a low, menacing bass riff and nimble drum pattern drive the song, with brief explosions of guitar hinting at some inevitable climax. We keep getting teased with a big pay-off, and there are a few moments of thrashy release, but you get the overall sense that the ultimate moment is just on the horizon. And then it arrives, and it's not some big mosh part or circle pit anthem. It's guitarist Andy Kerr sending a signal through some sort of delay effect and tweaking the knobs into a swirling storm of chaos. Thirteen years later, Botch would do something similar on "Transitions From Persona To Object" without ever having heard "Self Pity."

Side 2 continues on in its strange journey with "Long Days." This is another track that almost owes more to prog rock than punk. Rob Wright plays a dexterous bass line on an infinite loop while John Wright keeps teasing us with various fragmented drum patterns. Rob sings a mournful melody on top of all of it. Andy appears to have not shown up to the studio that day. There are a few moments where John finally locks into a four-on-the-floor drumbeat and it's completely gratifying, but the overall intention of the song seems to be all about depriving the audience of what they want.

That vibe continues on "Metronome." Another looping bass line. Another song where John spends more time hinting at a beat rather than playing the full kit. Andy is back from his coffee break to provide vocals, but when the song actually lays into the bass riff it's so satisfying that the band apparently decided to leave guitar out of the mix entirely. There's hardly any guitar on Side 2 until the closer "Revenge," where Rob ditches the bass. We get angular guitar riffs for the verses and triumphant chords for the chorus. It's big and epic, but hardly the kind of straightforward blitzkrieg that kicked off the album.

The punks must have been completely perplexed, but maybe the punks were actually bored by the old formulas at that point. After all, Sex Mad gave Nomeansno their first hint of success. The band got signed to Alternative Tentacles, providing massive exposure across North America, and the band was invited on their first tour of Europe, where they would close out the decade as one of the top drawing punk acts on the continent---just behind Fugazi and Bad Religion. By 1986, the first batch of North American hardcore bands were dying out or crossing over into metal territories. Up in British Columbia, Nomeansno were charting a path that would now qualify as "post-hardcore," taking the urgency and DIY spirit of hardcore but expanding its parameters with a broader emotional spectrum and a larger arsenal of musical influences under their belt.

[naomimoorewrites]

A Quiet Lament

1192 words

My mind is rarely at peace. I woke with a scream, scrambled to untangle myself from bed sheets that are not mine only to fall in a heap onto an equally foreign floor. It has been impossible to get away. Anything worth doing takes great effort. And I must free myself from these confines. The exquisite agony. I am terrible at being myself.

I had a case of the doldrums lately. This incessant pounding between the ears. A muted ache that drowned out the details of life. Let's face it, I was a living corpse for a year or so. If I had been then who I am now, I could have done it. I would have been okay. But I wasn’t. I was a fucking mess. 

How many years will the last ten months take off my life?

A thousand falls. I can’t stop torturing myself. Tormenting myself. This is spiritual warfare. There will always be - always has been - struggles. This is a fallen world. Already forsaken. Our God has left us. An absent father. Blood. Tears. Struggle. His beautiful council. Self deconstruction. Wasting your time without profit and so nothing can be expected of me. 

I am in a time of torture. For I continue to fall, and fall, and fall. Forgive me, Father, sometimes I fall a thousand times a day. I am what I am. So what can be expected of me? Nothing. Humility born of reality. Some sins should not be forgiven. I warned her.

You need me, and I intend on being there for you.

A roaring wave of feeling brought tears to my eyes.

Broken, ensnared, taken. I am so trapped in existence. Although, I suppose, in the dark, we see the truest reflections of ourselves. Demonic opposition. Bodily vigil. Cowardice and depravity. The daughters of disbelief. Screeching demons and fucking faries.

I nearly drank myself to death, or at least I tried. Damaged, and adorable. At first sight, I just wanted him to shove his tongue in my mouth. So deep that I had no more to give. Steal my breath and my words. Feel the weight of who I am. 

Love always involves a sacrifice. 

And not all sacrifices are equal. You will be, in your resurrection, more alive and more lovely than when you first took steps on this earth.

Inside of me are two wolves. And today I lost the battle. This is a tale of one truth among the lies, though which is which? I'll never tattle. One way or another we all end up dead. A resented necessity. For things to stay the same, they must change once again. For me to feel, I must hurt, or so I have come to learn. 

Here now, his funeral - days after his death - my eyes scan the room and stop on the striking blonde leaning in the doorway. Dark round glasses obscure her gaze but I can feel her watching me. Observing. Dissecting. She's here, but not. Present and distracted. Am I a masochist? Putting myself in your presence once again.

Never be surprised by betrayal, anyone can do it. That fucker died first. Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe without him. 

I drag in an unsteady inhale. Smoke and air scratched along my raw throat but I didn’t care. I’m not ready to see him yet. Exhale. This is anger, not fear.

People like me only go to church as a last resort. 

I find church comforting. The old smell and creaking floors. The light draft, and echoing hymns. The speech. The response. I have spent much time among the pews. 

What you survived matters. How you survived holds the keys on how to heal.

My tongue burned. Raw from the sour taste. The smoke made it worse. I didn’t care. The tough chew of sour straws reminded me of him. The hollow substance soothed my nerves. He would always tell me what he's thinking. No matter how little I wanted to hear about it.

You will get what you want. What you Crave. What you desire, even in your wildest dreams. 

That’s what he said.

Do not hate yourself for what you discover along the journey of life.

That’s what he said.

Let yourself cry, if that’s what you need.

That’s what he said.

There are people on their deathbed with a list of regrets. Do you want that to be you?

She asked, and I did not answer. 

And then it begins to rain.

The church teaches you that, because you failed a test you had no choice in taking, you have sinned. And have broken the world. Don’t believe the lie. Your God cursed you - women and serpent alike - and what did man get for his cowardice.

Unfortunately I am my fathers daughter, not a daddy's girl. I will ruin you just as he ruined me. I learned long ago: if everyone is going to look at you like you’re crazy, be crazy.

A speculative look had crossed his eyes when I said as much before, but now he is dead and it is her study that I must contend with now. I have at times been unsure, but never untrue.

Tell me, my love, why did I mistake you for a sign from God?

I’m flattered beyond all recognition.

The hello is just as important as the goodbye. He had caught my eye then my attention then my heart. 

His eyes were a striking blue, lighter in the centre and nearly black around the rim. He had seen the naked panic in my eyes. A caged animal. Unpredictable and ready to fight for my life. He loved that until he loved me. He loved me. He must have loved me. A foolish notion. A dream. It's all a dream. It had made me warm just to see him. 

Oh Lord, I have done this because I am what I am. And see how wretched I am. And so nothing can be expected of me. But such transgressions are even worse if your Grace does not help me. If I am left to myself. Alone, I grieve over what I have done. My life has no righteousness in the wait of your care for me. Do you love me? But I continue to fall and fall and fall. Forgive me. 

You cannot unwant. He taught me that the night we met.

Either you can do what you desire, or die with it trapped within you. It’s all the same in the end. Your God does not care. He leaned in and whispered against my mouth. His breath was spicy and cool. Then he nipped at my bottom lip. I was scandalised and more alive than ever.

Good luck convincing yourself that you don’t want something you want.

When you commit to finding a solution, only then will you find it.

Does it feel good, hmm? To say you quit? That you don’t care anymore. 

More than anything, even when I know it isn’t true.

Cry, baby. Keep going.

The power of religion is perseverance. The power of love is unknown to me.

You can see smoke. You can smell smoke. But you cannot grasp it.

[boozeforblues]

If Your Heroes Aren’t Criminals Of Some Kind, Your Values Are Trash

Momentary admissions of guilt and wrongheadedness And I'm not sure just to whom I should credit this God or the devil, fighting for supremacy And I'm secretly hoping they're both a distant memory At least until I can make heads or tails Of this battered vessel and the holes in its sails And these winds don't seem to affect our course Blowing in vain, until you find the remorse To speak your truth, questions from the innocent regarding my whereabouts Tell me it was wrong to put us on the outs Come to me, hat in hand; bolster your reputation as the worst Goddamn person I've ever met, contrition would be a first Use me to feel better about your shit situation Channel every ounce of misplaced frustration I've felt over the last three weeks Whoever said the earth would be inherited by the meek Never lived in a modern era of fight or flee Tell me you're just as out of place as me Spare me your self serving protestations At this point, I'm welcoming defenestration With outstretched arms, can't do my own dirty work The kind hearted and naïve labeling my anxiety a quirk I can't speak, spitting out the worst word salad Mouthing every word of this fucked up ballad I've got a scar on my thumb to remind me of your mistakes Tell me you're authentic in a world full of fakes And sincerity takes some effort on your part A genuine apology would be a start Towards redemption, I can't be sure you actually care Picturing open mouths and blank stares And I missed my calling as an unrepentant doormat Making friends with the same floor that Once broke my fall from your uneven pedestal Ignoring every situation, emotional and medical I've been experiencing since I walked away You were out of your mind not to ask me to stay And I can't tell if these are geese flying south Or vultures coming to pick the maggots from my mouth Convince me I'm not dead yet, just not on the outside It's as if every tactic went untested and untried Taking baby steps to nothing, headed down the same road You admitted was the wrong one, deconstruct the code Like NASA is paying my bills, pretension is my currency And I can't sense the slightest bit of urgency On your part, defeatism your game Dousing water on what's left of the flame Take all my concentration and throttle The effort to find regret at the bottom of this bottle When it provides the inspiration to unleash the (sleepy) bear Desperate for proof of life, proof that you care About more than yourself, find the humanity In a self imposed situation that feigns vanity And to put it mildly, I can find myself at the very least Ignore me into oblivion, let the demons feast On my reticence, apprehension is a killer Especially when the alternative is pretending to be a pillar Of the very community that shuns my every travail Convincing myself that love can't prevail Disconnect myself from being a cliched Nail in a coffin, every pained moment I'd trade For half hearted honesty from a thief And my liver is crying out for relief Self imposed exile under the rule of my imprisoned thoughts Making it seem like I nobly fought The good fight, but losing battles Got the best of me and rattled My cage to the point of questionable return Searching the lowest places for any signs of concern Here's to tearing down and mending fences Holding out hope that you can still come to your senses…

[s-o-n-de-r]

2022 Grab Bag Playlist

Curated by Travis Boyer

Photo by: RODNAE Productions

For your ears, I present the 2022 Grab Bag playlist. If you like indie or alternative music, there is bound to be something in here for you. Here are a few highlights of the bands and artists that you will find:  

Keystone Punk Scene These days, there is a preponderance of punk originating from the Keystone State. Hailing from Philadelphia, post-punk band Church Girls presents a raw, rugged and rowdy sound on “Telepathic Mind.” If straight up, early 00s pop-punk is more your style, My Cousin’s Girlfriend’s House, also from the City of Brotherly Love, kicks up the angst with a hyper poppy track reminiscent of early century, pop-punk stalwarts on “Wasting Away.” Allentown, PA’s Floor Space goes for a frantic, existential spin on “Gray.”

Hyper Pop Maniac From the United Kingdom, hyperpop artist Jack Goldstein is a mad scientist of epic, immersive tunes. Blending together overactive pop with searing indie rock riffs, “SAILIN” is a glorious hybrid. If you like what you hear, be sure to check out Goldstein’s EP “the world is ending and i love you” for more wild experiments.

Emo’s Not Dead Despite what you may have heard, emo didn’t die, it was just hibernating for a while. SKIES delivers a melodic brand of emo rock on “Deconstruction.” In turn, Born Astray’s “Dangerous” lets loose with a incendiary style of emo introspection. Also, Glow &The Dark with Tiny Stills slows things down a tad with the acoustic tinged, solemn and bittersweet “holy shit.”

The Eclectic Nashville Scene It is a common misperception that Nashville is owned by country music. However, it is much more than that. Nick Noon presents an elegant, symphonic style of alt-rock while firing veiled, political barbs on “Costumes.” Singer-songwriter Ryan Yingst takes us back to the 90s with some old school, soaring alternative rock on “Incessant.” Also, indie artist Tornsey’s “Lost Control” is a roaring piano-led track that speaks with a powerful, impassioned voice.

Check out the playlist here.

---

Like this? Sonder is an independent music, travel and photography publication at sonderlife.com. Give us a follow here or at our Twitter, Instagram or Facebook if you like this!

[be-a-snake-stab-your-brother]

Oh ho ho ho prepare thyselves, I have some thoughts about Loki's appearance in the latest What If... episode

Let's jump into this.

Okay. So Loki shows up with an (if not the) entire contingent of Einherjar and the Warriors Three (Four, really), giving the same damn speech he did during Infinity War, minus the "Odinson" portion.

Okay. So Loki shows up with an (if not the) entire contingent of Einherjar and the Warriors Three (Four, really), giving the same damn speech he did during Infinity War, minus the "Odinson" portion.

This isn't a mistake. Loki, at this point, damn well knows who he really is and why. And assuming that events up to this point follow the same trajectory as the "sacred timeline" (does anyone else think the "Watcher" is just Kang hanging out with a bowl of popcorn overlooking the multiverse because that's how I'm reading it...) Anyway, assuming everything we see in the first Thor movie holds true up until Thor's murder...

And that's just the thing, isn't it? It's Thor's murder that is the "nexus event." Loki comes screaming down to Midgard, apparently having secured the loyalty of all of Asgard as its acting King (he's still holding Gungnir, after all) so something must have gone on behind the scenes for everyone to start trusting him. Even when they obviously know he is Jotun.

AGAIN, HE LEADS WITH THE WHOLE JOTUNHEIM THING. Doesn't deny it, proclaims it in front of the entire Asgardian army. This...this is a very different Loki than we saw in the first Thor movie. Whatever shame he held about being Jotun, he's at least come to partial terms with it. And it's not the reason he ends up taking over Midgard/Earth (more on this later).

Loki isn't on Midgard because he wants a kingdom. He's the "rightful" King of Jotunheim, not the actual one. And he's actually quite forward about the fact he's rallied the entire Asgardian army to avenge his adopted brother's death. He loves Thor that much. (As if Asgard would deny him this. Of course not, they'd want their "pound of flesh," or more, just like Loki does.)

Remember the Loki series? When Classic Loki just wanted to see his brother again? This is the same thing.

Now here's what I find really fascinating.

When Loki goes for his show of strength, when he declares he will reduce Midgard to ruins (specifically, "ash and ice") if he doesn't get the "pound of flesh" aka the entire corpse he deserves (and just...the meta of this...the pound of flesh being a reference to Merchant of Venice and Tommy H being a Shakespeare expert is just perfection on every level)

Anyway, Loki goes for the bloody Casket of Ancient Winters.

Again, Loki has Gungnir, which is not only a weapon no one would laugh at, but a symbol of the Asgardian monarchy, and yet he takes them all out with the Jotunheim Casket. I mean, fascinating. And Loki doesn't turn blue while handling it, which I believe (contrary to some internet opinion) means he has mastered the Casket as its wielder. Meaning he's come to terms with his identity. Even if he still hates Odin, who may be dead or alive at this juncture (Frigga is most definitely alive, or else Loki would be having a breakdown). I find this choice utterly fascinating.

So I want to reiterate that through this entire exchange, Loki is on Earth for a single purpose: vengeance. He wants his brother's killer. He shows no signs of desire to take over the planet, to subjugate its people, and he has never met Thanos (in any iteration) because he never let go on the Rainbow Bridge. It's not until later, not until Hank Pym spills some beans regarding Fury, that Loki seems to switch tracks.

So Fury and Loki strike a deal and Loki (illusioned as Fury because that is most definitely one of the powers Loki has) outs Hank Pym as the murderer of the proto-Avengers, who is on a revenge tour due to his daughter's death during her SHIELD days (which was likely an alt-universe Bucky Barnes/aka the Winter Solider seeing as it was in Odessa and that's just an entirely different story to deconstruct).

But here's the interesting part:

Remember, Fury is not Fury here. I doubt the real Nick Fury would ever refer to Thor as a "Prince of Asgard," and so we know this conversation is happening between Loki and Hank (and wow, I a) never thought I'd type that sentence and b) I cannot believe Marvel got bloody Michael Douglas to play this character, holy hell).

But the important thing to remember here is Hank's point of view. The way he casually says Fury would have recruited Thor for his initiative. Hints that if Fury had done so, he would have considered Thor as an expendable hero. Outright says he would prefer Fury's death over Thor's and this is the moment I believe Loki decides to conquer Earth. Because he cannot trust these warring factions and his brother is dead because of it.

And Loki wipes the floor with Hank. Think about it. Hank has managed to kill all of the Avengers minus Steve Rogers (only due to the fact Steve was doing his popsicle impression at the time). He managed to kill Thor.

And Loki destroys him within a few minutes. I mean, what a testament to our deity of mischief.

But has Loki really gotten his pound of flesh? Hank is taken away, not dead. Thor is still gone, forever. And there was enough logic in what Hank said during their confrontation (after all, Loki would know about being used as a weapon, or at the very least a means to an end. He had that conversation with Odin. He will not stand to see it repeated with Thor). There was enough in that exchange with Hank, there was enough in the negotiations with Fury...that Loki directs his army (his legitimate army who does not rebel against him) to take over Earth in what we can only assume is a mostly peaceful coup (minus some frigid temperatures here and there, but you know, we can just say Loki was counteracting global warming at the same time.) No Chitauri, no Thanos, no utter craziness.

Just...retribution on this planet for making Loki lose what was dearest to him.

[shine-no-hitokiri]

This post is going to be fandom-critical and Loki series-appreciative, so get out and block/unfollow/whatever while you can if that's not your cup of tea.

There is a trend in many fandoms of characters who are in opposition to the hero (villains, antiheroes etc) that is critical of the "redemption through death" scenario. The latest that comes to mind is Star Wars, but there are countless examples. The typical in-story narrative is that the villain had committed too many crimes and there is no place for him in the new world where the heroes won, so he's killed off - usually not by heroes but by tragic circumstances that allow him some positive light before the end (Loki in Thor2, Ben Solo in SW). Fans of the character argue that a fully realised, slow redemption would be an awesome storyline, and that it'd be both interesting and refreshing to look at the life post wrongdoing.

So far, no mainstream media has ever done a fully realised, psychologically grounded redemption storyline. Hollywood go-to idea to rehabilitate the villain is to make the villain useful to the heroes and ultimately just "forget" about the initial transgression. The initial bad deed is never looked back on, addressed or analysed except maybe as a funny oneliner. Because addressing shit is hard... And also because, as Loki series has shown us, the fandom doesn't really want to see the true psychologically grounded redemption storyline.

For the Loki series is exactly this: the first time a character must face uncomfortable truths about themselves, to better themselves. This is a process that isn't nice. It's a beatdown after a beatdown. It's humiliating, soul-destroying, there is much kneeling and grovelling and unflattering names. The character isn't shown as pretty and composed, he isn't allowed to wear nice clothes that give him a feeling of power. He feels useless, powerless and messes up a lot, for his self esteem is gone. He doesn't strut around showing off magic feats and yes, almost everyone around him is shown in better light. Because that's what a true redemption storyline is like. It's a deconstruction of the ego. Eventually, it will lead to a stronger and better sense of self, but first we must crawl on the floor. And the fans, who usually overidentify with the character and his background, just cannot take seeing him, and by extension themselves, in that light.

So what does the fandom do?

1) Insist that Loki does not need a redemption storyline. Because he was tortured by Thanos (this is fanon), because he was influenced by scepter (this is still mostly fanon but has a bit more substance), because he was emotionally abused by Odin (this is almost canon). Now before you crucify me - these are my favourite fanons, my go-to fanfiction, I adore them all. But. There is absolutely nothing incorrect or malicious with the Loki series going "You know what? Loki still carved out that eyeball, and I am not going to sit here and "address" the fact that Odin emotionally neglected him, because that's already been shown and is in the past. I am going to postulate that Loki, deep in his core, is ashamed of himself for his deeds, and that bringing up Odin isn't going to solve that shame, and explore how Loki can move forward from there. The story isn't not going to be about Odin or Thanos, who are both gone and dead, it's going to be about Loki -who is the one who gets to live with the consequences."

2) Insist that the series hates Loki and was written specifically to humiliate him. This ties back to my thesis that the fandom simply does not want to see what a true psychological work of a redemption storyline looks like, for the ego beatdown is the essential part of it. This is how the story of Ben Solo would have had to look like, had he survived Star Wars. This is how Thor 2 would have looked like, had we been following Loki and not Thor: Loki being chained by the same soldiers he commanded, being stripped of his armour, being led down the rainbow bridge and into the palace. In that movie, it would have been worse because he had personal history with all these people. In the series he gets TVA's indifferent approach, which should incidentally be easier to swallow.

3) Insist that Loki is not the protagonist of his own series. Apart from this not making an ounce of sense, this reading comes from the idea that only physical deeds are valid storytelling material. Sylvie is stronger than Loki, hence she's the protagonist. Mobius is in the position of power, hence he is more important than Loki. All the while Loki is out there, doing enormous self-work, changing by the hour and showcasing more stable coping techniques. But he's not glamorous while doing it and he's kneeling a lot, so it cannot be that the writers actually like him and wish him to do well in the long run.

4) Insist that the new Loki is OOC and give him a plain, insulting new nickname to differentiate him from the beloved and cool old Loki. The one who liberated eyeballs while clad in impeccable clothes because he was terrified of Thanos. Or the one whose non-existent coping mechanisms almost made him kill his own beloved brother in despair. The one who had plans upon plans and was always so ready for betrayal that he had no friends on his own. The one who would surely glamour awesome clothes onto himself to avoid signalling any weakness. The one who was incredibly high strung and could never allow any weakness. You guys want that Loki back? Ok, that's fair. That guy was deeply damaged, and very interesting to watch. But then, a story that takes these aspects from him (and make no mistake, all of them are maladaptive and trauma induced - all -of - them) isn't hating on Loki, or making him dumb, or exists to hurt you personally. It allows him to overcome his internal hurdles, lower his defences and eventually arrive to a better place.

So here I rest my thesis: actual well written redemption stories, of which Loki is the frigging first (and how groundbreaking is that) aren't really wanted by the fandom. Most fans would rather whitewash or cocoon themselves in the trauma aspect, leaving the actual responsibility and consequences out of it. Which is fine as a comping mechanism, fiction is escapism after all, you're all perfectly valid... But there should at least be enough self-awareness to differentiate between a good story that's uncomfortable/too heavy for you and a bad story with evil writers who either have no idea about Loki or specifically want to punish his fans.

The Loki series isn't the latter. It might not be the fantasy escapism most would have preferred, but it has a very specific and respectable goal and it's going about it in a grounded way which is - actually - fully respecting of Loki as a person. I swear that the series sees him as more capable of doing the work he needs to do than his own fans.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Playing the Part

~8300 words of steamy Loki tickle fluff

PG13 for this one, kids. Lots of making out.

CW: some swearing, suggestive humour, mentions of murder/death, alcohol consumption

Every job has its ups and downs, and every employee their good days and not-so-good days. You’d hardly classify yourself as an employee because you didn’t get a paycheque, your entire occupation was a hazard unto itself, human-resources was punching it out on the sparring mat and your boss was either a 100-year-old super soldier or an eccentric billionaire, depending on the day and who was wearing what suit.

Wait… should I be getting paid for this?

Looking around your room that you paid no rent on, in a multi-billion dollar superhero compound, you decided that wasn’t a question you were ever going to ask. The question of the hour was which dress would best conceal your thigh-holstered gun.

Today, your job entailed one of those tasks that could be fun if you decided it would be, or hell if you had a bad attitude about it. You prided yourself on always being up for any mission, so that answered that question, though infiltrating some black-tie gala undercover was never as exciting as fighting alien forces.

You gave up feeling guilty about being a little excited when Earth faced threats long ago; no one had to know that impending planetary destruction was your favourite kind of mission to help out on.

Selecting a red strapless dress from the middle of your mission closet (which was differentiated because most of these dresses were bulletproof) you slipped it on over your underwear and thigh holster. A knock came at your door as you were reaching behind yourself to zip it up.

“Come in!”

“Agent, we- oh… Oh.” Loki’s featured turned from surprised to playfully smug in a matter of seconds.

“Can you get this zipper?” You winced at the stuck metal. He nodded and approached, you turned and held the fabric up. Before he even made it halfway to you he gave a brief wave of his hand and used his magic to unstick the zipper, bringing it to the top.

“Thanks,” you smiled, familiar with that particular kind of help from Loki. “Can you see my gun?” You did a little spin and he shook his head. “Great. You look nice," you commented, gesturing to his impeccable black suit.

“As do you.”

“Ready?”

”I suppose there are worse charades to play on a Saturday evening. Ones that don’t include fine wine and the prospect of a tussle with a Midgardian security man.”

You shot him a look as you two walked towards the garage together. “You said no Midgardian wine could be classed as fine.”

“Save for one region in Italy, I’ve discovered.” Loki shrugged, tightening the fastener on his cuff link.

You gave him a mock look of shock. “Are you telling me… you were wrong?“

“Smugness is not becoming, Agent,” Loki playfully warned.

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes. “Looks like I’m spending too much time with you.”

You bickered and bantered good-naturedly as you entered the garage, which was more like a hangar but only for cars. This mission would be you, Loki, Natasha, Sam and, strangely enough, Tony wanted to drive the van. He gave some excuse about wanting to test some new equipment and spend time with his team. Though you knew it was because Pepper wanted him to attend her aunt’s seventieth birthday, and Tony had a long-standing feud with that particular aunt ever since she went on a forty-five minute tirade about how much she hated Led Zeppelin. You weren’t sure if it was the sentiment behind it, or the fact that she could talk for forty-five minutes straight without the awareness to stop. Either way, Tony was on the job tonight.

“Black Widow is already onsite,“ Tony handed you three some photos as you entered and took your seats. “Your names are on the door, fake ones obviously, here they are.” Tony pulled up some information on the screens and then commanded the self-driving van to go with a few taps at a holographic control centre.

You went over the plan, the objective, who to avoid at all costs, where the gun was supposedly hidden. There was a gun used in a murder of a journalist - the employee of an old friend of Tony's, a young guy working on an exposé of a filthy-rich family dynasty in New York City. The journalist was sure the McDane family money came from arms dealing, but he was found dead just a few short months after he started investigating. The following week, Charles, the charming and likeable newly-married eldest son of the family, announced his run for mayor.

Whether Charlie McDane ordered the murder, or if he didn't even know it happened, Tony's source said this family kept trophies of their victories and the murder weapon would most definitely still be in the house.

On the face of it, it was an unusual assignment for the Avengers. If you didn't think that hard about it, you could have just sent Nat in alone. However, the McDane family was even more powerful than they loved to show on the surface, and this wouldn't be a simple theft. Hence, a small team was going in to avenge the fallen journalist.

Natasha had been planted on the inside, posing as an event manager for a soirée the family was hosting to celebrate Charlie’s birthday and, since he’d invited everyone in the political and social scene, it was the perfect chance to enter the mansion; there’s no way he’d know who each and every person was and should be.

As you walked down the road with your arm slotted through Loki's, you eyed the metal detectors at the front entrance. You gripped his arm and slid your hand into the pocket of your dress, but the pocket was hollow and only existed as easy way to grab your gun. Wordlessly, you passed it to Loki and he concealed it with his magic in the exact same way you planned to smuggle the murder weapon out later that evening.

Maybe it was Loki's elegance or your years of training that started when you were very young, but the way you two could instinctively weave around each other's thoughts, ideas and actions without so much as a glance was something special you didn't take for granted. You both had keen senses, but there was some kind of unexplainable energy that made them align perfectly.

You never let your mind wander on nights like these. On missions. Perhaps if you were less professional you'd take a moment to fantasise about what it would actually be like to go to a party with Loki. If the way he led you through the room with a gentle hand at your waist was more than a ploy to look like an adoring couple, or if he knew your favourite wine because he cared, instead of just having heard you order it a million times before.

He kept things light with jokes and little jabs, never once crossing a boundary when fake-flirting with you, but it wasn't lost on you that it was unusual to have this kind of working relationship that had all of the chemistry with none of the awkwardness. It was almost as if it was second nature now for him to pull you a little closer when you were in a nice dress, considering you'd only worn them in front of him on missions. And so he did pull you closer as you approached the bouncer to give your names.

You spied Nat at the front, leaning around a security guard's shoulder to point to something on his list. She always played her parts so well. She stole a glance at you and Loki through her fake glasses and that was it. No indication she knew you, no special treatment, no way she'd do anything to blow this. She walked up the outdoor staircase as you gave your aliased names to the guard and flashed fake drivers licenses that were pretty much real, considering the government had created them.

Loki declined the arrival champagne for the both of you, immediately leading you to the bar. You looked at him as if to remind him that you weren't here to drink, and his subtle smirk replied that he didn't care. He ordered two glasses of a merlot from the one region in Italy that'd won his respect, passing the glass to you once it was laid on the bar.

"To the finer things," he cheers'ed your glass and you scoffed with a laugh, taking a sip of the wine. The rich flavour burst through your mouth. It was dark and deep, spiced with... with... "Cedar," he offered, reading the analysis on your face. "Rosewood, cedar and some sort of stone-fruit."

"Nectarine."

He smiled and took another sip. "We don't have that on Asgard."

"This wine is good," you nodded as you two turned and deconstructed the room and all of its guests.

It made you kind of sick seeing all of these wealthy people in one place pretending to give a damn about Charlie McDane's birthday. It's not that you liked the guy, not at all, it just felt weird to know that every person in here was the exact kind of person you hunted down. Power-hungry. This mansion may as well be a lion's den. But full of naïve lions, who had no idea two apex predators just walked in.

Just when you started wondering how many people in your line of sight had also committed murder to protect their wealth and power, you saw Natasha give a subtle signal of which way the room with the safe was. Loki saw it too.

It was upstairs, but there wasn't much cover to get upstairs. The great foyer's ceiling was three stories up, the two floors above the ground floor you were on had square balconies that let the people upstairs peer downwards into the masses. Nat's fingers adjusting her hair told you that the room was on the second floor. Thankfully, there were guests on the second floor. Under the guise of admiration for the architecture and a desire to explore the great house, you pointed out works of art to Loki as you ascended the stairs together. When you walked past Natasha she smiled politely, like a good host, and asked if you were enjoying the wine.

"It's most divine. Though, I believe my beloved may be in search of a room to powder her nose."

You would have rolled your eyes at his usual choice of asking for information if you weren't aware that security's eyes were everywhere. Even on the event manager.

"You might find what you need up the stairs, down the first hall, third door on your right."

The way her hands were motioning didn't match her hushed description, so you followed the instructions in her voice instead of the way her hands were telling you.

You allowed Loki to lead you upstairs, down the first hall. When you two were certain there were no eyes, he concealed you two with his magic. The hallway was darkened. He pressed his hand against the lock and unfastened it with an unseen pure magic and you two slipped inside. It was a large office with grand mahogany furniture, decorated exactly as you'd expect Old Money Americans to decorate their office. Right down to the bear head above the fireplace and the first edition novels sitting proudly on the shelf, probably unread by their owners. That also made you a little sick: great words sitting unread as trophies.

Scanning the room for any obvious signs of the safe, your eyes settled on a panel in the wood on the side of the desk. There was a slightly smaller gap in the wood on one side, indicating hinges. You held your hands up to Loki and he conjured thin gloves to grace your fingers, then you pressed gently on the wood to engage the latch. The panel swung open to reveal the safe. Shifting out of the way, Loki took your place and placed a gloved hand on the dial. In less than three seconds, it spun rapidly in each direction before clicking open.

"We should really consider robbing banks," you whispered as the black metal door swung open and you were met with stacks of paper and envelopes.

"Need I remind you I am a Prince? If it's gold you want, darling, say the word."

"Eh," you shrugged, feeling around for the gun. "I meant more for the thrills."

Loki chuckled as your fingers found a familiar-feeling package. You pulled the envelope out and peered inside before showing Loki the sight of a small pistol. He nodded and took it from you carefully, then concealed it in some unknown magical space close to him.

You closed the safe carefully and then your gloves disappeared. Moving quietly back to the door, you listened for several moments to make sure no one was coming. Then, you both slid out and began walking down the hall like a loving couple.

Suddenly, a guard appeared at the end of the hallway. Thinking fast, you opened the closest door to you and pushed Loki inside. There was a shout you vaguely heard before you shut and locked the door again.

"Shit," you hissed. You were in someone's bedroom. Or maybe it was a guest room, considering how clean and un-lived-in it looked. There was a fireplace, like in the office, and a large four-poster bed against one wall. In the middle of the room were two plush couches that faced each other and were side-on to the door. You two walked over to them to get the vantage of being in the centre of the room and quickly searched for an exit.

"I'll cast an illusion," Loki whispered, ready to wave his hands and make it look as if you two weren't here.

"No!" You whispered, eyes wide. "They already saw us come in here. If we disappear, they'll know something's up and lock the place down."

"Then what do you propose?" He held his hands out, annoyingly unbothered by the prospect of blowing a mission. The doorknob twisted and you both snapped your heads towards it, then back at each other.

"Sit," you hissed and shoved him back onto the sofa right behind him. He stumbled and fell with a small indignant noise of surprise. You heard the tinkling of keys and your heart beat in your chest.

"Agent?"

Knowing the security team was about to enter, you acted fast. "I'll never hear the end of this," you mumbled before sliding forward to straddle his lap. His eyebrows shot up his forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and looked at him with nervous urgency. "Kiss me."

Loki didn't question it, and he certainly didn't need to be told twice. His hands found their place. One at the small of your back, one firmly gripping the hair at the nape of your neck. Then, he pulled you in for a fiery kiss.

You barely heard the door open as you lost yourself in the strength of his hold, the steady and eager grasp with which he held you. His hands found their places as if they'd been there a thousand times before, as if he knew exactly how you'd feel the safest, feel the most desired. You pulled him deeper by the back of his neck and could have sworn he made a small noise of satisfaction.

Oh no.

He kept kissing you, you kept kissing him, even after the head of the security team had cleared his throat a number of times. As much as you knew you'd already sold it, and boy you sold it well, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Were all Asgardians this good at kissing, or was it just Loki?

Oh. No.

"HEY!"

The sudden loud command pulled you away and, much to your internal mortification, you didn't need to feign how flustered you were.

"O-oh my," you squeaked and looked up at the man, blushing profusely.

Okay, the squeak was fake, but it felt almost real.

You stayed put where you were straddling Loki's lap and grimaced when you saw Natasha, still in character, entering the room. "What's going on, I need you downstairs to- oh!" She looked a little taken aback by your position atop the prince who, you were fuming to see from the corner of your eye, had the audacity to be smirking.

"My apologies," Loki drawled in his growly regal voice, trailing his hands around to your sides. "I simply couldn't control myself, seeing my queen in this dress..." He punctuated it with an "Mmph" and a firm squeeze at your hips. You flinched and squirmed a bit under the ticklish touch, trying to keep your composure but letting a small giggle slip out. Then, catching the pleased and mischievous glint in his eye, you dug your nails into the back of his shoulder to warn him off trying that again.

"This room's off limits," the guard tilted his head towards the door and you made to move your way off of Loki's lap. Instead, with his incredible strength, he stood with his hands still at your hips, lifting you to your feet before turning and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He looked the guard up and down, "Of course, good sir." You bit your lip and blushed, cowering in Loki's hold as you exited the room together. Nat smirked at you and winked before proceeding to fall back into character and tell the guards there was a belligerent drunk man downstairs needing to be kicked out. That man would be Wilson, who was playing his part as tipsy distraction.

Loki led you down the hall and you rounded a corner, then you broke off from him and held a hand to your chest. "That was too close," you breathed deeply once, then met his eye. You glared when he saw him smirking at you.

"Do I have lipstick on my face?" He asked, feigning worry.

"Oh, shut up," you swatted his shoulder. "I did what I had to do."

"I never knew you had the passion in you, Agent," Loki smirked again. You glared once more and peeked around the corner, only to jump and hold in a yelp as Loki's pinching fingers found your hip. "I also never knew you were so ticklish."

"That's not something people advertise- cut it ouhout!" You swatted his hand and squirmed away from him as he prodded his fingers into your side. "We have the gun, let's get out of here."

"Tsk, you're no fun," Loki scoffed.

You exited the party and made your way down the block towards the van, knowing that Nat's glasses had broadcast at least the last part of your little tussle with Loki. Steeling yourself as you gripped the handle, you reminded yourself that you were a professional, and this was sometimes a hazard of the job. You needed to play it cool when the eventual teasing came.

"Hey, lovebirds," Tony quipped the second he saw your faces.

"Hey," you chuckled, stepping inside and removing your heels the second you found your seat. "We got it."

"Here," Loki closed the door behind him and pulled the enveloped gun from the magical space he'd hidden it. "So you saw the Agent's display of passion, did you?"

"You wound me, Loki," you deadpanned. "I thought we had a mutual connection."

Perhaps those words were a mistake considering all the truth behind them. However, all the best lies were founded on truth, and for now you needed to convince everyone in the van that you weren't totally freaking out because you'd felt the most passionate attraction you'd had in years with a former villain. I mean... how predictable.

Loki looked at you suspiciously as he took his seat, but something in his gaze told you he wasn't going to prod deeper on this. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone.

Nat and Sam joined the fray five minutes later and you all got a move-on back to the Compound. Nat poked more fun at the position she'd found you two in, and you laughed good-naturedly at all their jokes. Loki was uncharacteristically silent, and seemed to always be looking at you when you laughed and instinctively checked to see if he was laughing too.

The jokes shifted to Sam and the wine he spilled down his shirt, then the conversation shifted to the next steps of what to do with the gun, then you all arrived back.

Tony got to work dismantling his rig, declining your help, and so you took your field weapons over to the cabinet to put them back in their places. As you were unclipping the magazine from your pistol, you felt a presence behind the door. You peered around to see Loki.

"What's up?" You raised your eyebrows and snapped the case shut, then closed the door.

He looked at you meaningfully, quizzically, but didn't say anything.

"Okay..." you chuckled uncomfortably and put the latch on the door in place. "I'm going to shower."

You made to walk past him but he grabbed your upper arm, stopping you by his side. Facing different ways, he leaned in a little closer and spoke quietly. "I can spot a lie from lightyears away."

Turning to look at him, you'd probably have been caught off-guard by how close his face was if it hadn't been for the events of earlier. You shrugged, pulling your arm from his grasp. "I didn't lie."

He scoffed and also turned to look at you, eyes flitting once down to your lips, then back up to pierce your gaze with his. "You know what I meant."

You were proud of how composed you kept yourself when you shrugged again and kept walking, swallowing hard.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Never one to waste water, you took an uncharacteristically long shower. Haphazardly smearing face wash over your skin to scrub the makeup off, scrub away the flustered energy. But no amount of scrubbing could help you forget the feeling of his kiss, and shampooing the hairspray from your head only made you remember the feeling of his fingers in your hair.

You reminded yourself that it had been a very long time since you'd kissed someone. You were probably just desperate, definitely a little touch-starved in general, so the fact that it was Loki didn't matter as much as the fact that it had happened.

That's what you told yourself over and over as you threw on sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved shirt. It was cold and the marble floors could be unforgiving, so you thought it best to go for fluffy socks, but then pulled some slippered boots over the top. You didn't bother brushing your wet hair, letting it fall where it wanted as you made your way to the kitchen.

"That smells good," you commented as Nat pulled some dish out of the oven.

"Mmm," she agreed with an excited smile. "Nico is my favourite," she admitted slyly, referring to one of the chefs Pepper would call in to prepare a bunch of heatable meals during busy periods. Delivery app drivers would probably cancel the order if you tried, thinking it must be a joke that a super solider was asking for a Big Mac to be delivered to the Avengers Compound. Besides, by the time it was scanned and made sure to not contain a deadly poison, it would be cold and stale. "There's enough for you too," Nat said, pulling out another plate and serving you a steaming slice of vegetarian lasagne.

"Thanks," you smiled, still a little distracted. Of course, with someone as perceptive as Nat, that wouldn't be allowed to slip by.

She leaned against the counter and poked at her meal, not meeting your eye to keep it less direct. "You alright?"

"Hmm?" You looked up, and so did she, then you looked back down to your food and shrugged. It was no use lying to her. "I think I'm lonely," you laughed humourlessly, nervously, sadly.

"The kiss got to you," she said knowingly, placing her fork down to give you her full attention. You didn't return the favour, nervous about what you'd say if you were really talking about this. Which, as long as you were here eating dinner, you weren't really talking about it.

"It's not like I haven't kissed a fellow Agent before to keep cover," you sighed a little, shaking your head. "It's just been a while, I guess, since I've had... anything... or, someone."

"I get that," she nodded, picking up her fork again. You two ate in silence for several moments. "This is really good," she declared through an extra-large mouthful. You chuckled and nodded, swallowing another bite. After several more moments, she said quietly, "It's okay if you felt something."

That made you choke a bit. Noticeably, unfortunately. You shook your head, but didn't deny it. "No. It's not okay."

"Why not?" She asked as if you were crazy.

"It's not okay," you repeated firmly, stabbing your fork again at the lasagna. "It's not."

Before she could attempt to pry for more information, Thor and Loki entered the kitchen together. Great.

"Good evening," Thor beamed a toothless smile.

"There's more in the fridge if you're hungry," you looked up at them in an attempt to not seem as regressed in on yourself as you felt. Thor looked at your plate and nodded in approval, opening the fridge. Then you looked at Loki, fully expecting to see some kind of calculating stare as before, but his expression was soft. He looked you over, probably noticing your out-of-character hunched posture and the way your head hung a little lower than usual, and he gave you a look that was subtly laced with sympathy.

Now that made your blood boil. Who was he to feel sorry for you?

He seemed to notice the way your jaw clenched under his gaze, and opened his mouth to say something but Thor spoke first.

"There's a film Stark wants us all to watch this evening."

Nat chuckled, finishing off her dinner. "You say that like he's showing us training videos. He's just trying to bond the team over some cheesy nineties movie." She looked at you and nodded to your clothes. "You look ready for a movie night."

Before you could explain that you'd rather go to bed, Thor beamed again. "Excellent, then! We'll all be there."

Thor was always kind to you, so you didn't want to disappoint him over something so inconsequential. You smiled warmly at him and nodded. "I'm gonna go claim a good spot," you excused yourself, aware it was almost time for it to start. You quickly did your dishes and left the kitchen, making sure to get a seat on a large armchair so you made it clear you'd rather have some personal space right now, even though it was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Maybe it would be good for you though, to remember that you were alone for a reason. That this life you chose wasn't kind too love.

Gods, love. Why did you think of that word, of all the ones out there. You were spiralling. Sentiment, you corrected yourself with a swift reprimand. Sentiment, loneliness, desperation.

You busied yourself chatting to Wanda as people filtered in, taking note of how she seamlessly wove herself in and around Vision as they sat on a two-seater next to you. Determined not to look at or think of Loki or romance or kissing or anything like that, you trained your eyes on the screen as the movie started.

But you spiralled.

There were these two main characters in the movie with this undeniable bickering co-worker chemistry that reminded you of Loki, the jokes he’d whisper into your ear during meetings, the harmless mischief he’d pull to make you laugh, the way his hand felt at your lower back- NO. You couldn’t think about that.

Wanda and Vision were in your line of sight from the corner of your eye and you saw her fingers lace through his, you then saw him place a silent kiss on the crown of her head. Biting down on your tongue, you remembered Nat and Bruce, Pepper and Tony, Thor and Jane, Clint and Laura. All those people who seemed to find love, even temporary love, in the midst of all this madness.

So maybe it wasn’t this life. Maybe it was just… you.

Biting your tongue a little harder, you reminded yourself how powerless you were compared to all these super-people. Sure, many of them were human like you, but all the other humans seemed to have someone who loved them.

It felt hopeless, knowing the only person in this room who you wanted close was so extraordinarily out of your league. He was a god. You were a human. Your life was a flicker compared to his, of course he’d never waste time indulging the likes of you.

But it felt real.

Halfway through the movie you decided you couldn’t sit there and see these buddy-cop characters fall in love. You couldn’t watch Wanda and Vision so enamoured with each other. What you needed was to hit something hard, and then go to sleep. So you excused yourself without a word or a glance at anyone. It was late, anyway. You weren’t even the first one to leave.

A turn of a black-haired form told you that Loki noticed you leaving, but the lack of footsteps behind you as you walked down the silent hall told you that he hadn’t followed you.

Slipping into your room and then into some workout clothes, you jammed your headphones into your ears and put on some classical music; you weren't sure you could stand to hear any words right now. You laced your shoes a little tighter than normal and practically sprinted to the gym, very unwilling to have anyone notice you were gone and decide to come check on you.

Hitting the bag felt good. It was the perfect consolation prize for what you'd actually prefer right now, but with every crushing of your knuckles against the thick canvas you found it easier to forget how it felt to have your fingers looped through his hair. The sweat dripping down your face replaced the feeling of his breath against your skin when you'd broken the kiss, and the aching in your obliques from your tensing and turning to hit the bag took the place of any memory of his hands at your waist. The aching was here, and he was almost gone.

After a half-hour of interval sprints, it was just past midnight and you were exhausted. Not knowing how you felt about no one coming to check on you, you traipsed back to your room in silence. The faint echoing of your footsteps through the hallways made you quiet yourself further, stepping as lightly as you could to prove to yourself that you were still a good spy. Good spies don't get caught up with feelings. Your footsteps fell, dead quiet, and you regained some confidence.

Your muscles stung the next morning but in a delightful way. You'd treated yourself to another hot shower when you got back to your room, so this morning it would probably be best to have an icy one.

As the cold water hit your skin, you felt okay again. The boxing and running last night had really shaken everything out of you, only the smallest lingering of lonely desire remained and it could easily be ignored. Of course, that was easy to say. The second you walked into the kitchen to see that Loki had heard you coming and poured you a coffee you felt a tug at your chest.

His hands closed around the mug to pass it to you and you remembered how his fingers had closed around your waist. He smiled good morning and you remembered how his lips felt against yours. Holding it all in, you smiled and took the coffee, then proceeded to have a short conversation with him like a normal person would. He made jokes about last night, but not about that, and you chuckled at them. After perhaps too short a time for how long you usually chatted, you excused yourself to go do some paperwork. You caught the way his brow furrowed a little, but he didn't question you.

The next few days were more or less like this. You'd try to engage with Loki normally but spiral a little more, convincing yourself that the more you continued like you always had, the more normal things would be again. But he was just so... beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful and now you couldn't help but notice.

One evening, nearly a week after you'd kissed, you were having a bit of a vulnerable day and you walked into the kitchen for some ice cream. Loki had just finished cleaning up after his dinner and turned to say hello, but you couldn't do it. You just turned and walked right back out again. He called after you but you didn't stop. It's not like you were going to cry in front of him, but you just couldn't do this right now.

Seeking refuge in your bedroom, you shut the door and slid down to the floor with your back against it. An immediate soft knock frustrated you, especially knowing who it probably was. You sighed and stood.

“Hey,” you greeted Loki with a nod when you opened the door, immediately turning away to make it look like you were about to do something else. “What’s up?”

Loki stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, which made you stop and give him your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied.

He squinted for the faintest second and smiled a little sadly. “Light years,” he reminded you how he could spot a lie without harshly calling you out. It pained you that he didn’t. That his lack of sarcasm indicated that he saw you as a bit fragile right now.

You sighed a little and ducked your head to the side, conceding the point. “I’m a little haywire,” you admitted. “I think I need to get some stress out and go to sleep.”

”What troubles you?”

Ah. What a question.

You didn’t want to shut him out, but you certainly didn’t know how to explain that one simple kiss undercover had brought a massive crashing wave of insecurity and anxiety that made you feel completely unlovable. Or... maybe you could just say that?

You were silent for so long that Loki spoke again.

“I’d like to offer my apologies,” he said very diplomatically. “If I overstepped the bounds of our relationship.”

“I’m the one that made you kiss me,” you winced. “I should be apologising.”

”I didn’t mean that,” Loki shook his head. “I meant after, when we returned. When I cornered you.”

You had to laugh. “You didn’t corner me, Loki. I appreciate you wanting to make me feel better but you have nothing to apologise for.”

”Very well. But you didn’t make me,” he replied firmly.

“I know, I know…” you rolled your eyes. “A god submits to no one, I just meant that I put you in a situation that I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I’m paying the price.”

That last part came out a little faster than you’d intended it to. In fact, you didn’t really mean to say that last part out loud at all. Or maybe you did. What a perfect Freudian Slip. Quickly collecting yourself, you spotted your headphones and went to pick them up but noticed that Loki was taking slow steps towards you.

”Paying the price?” He asked carefully. You stopped and folded your arms, shrugging.

“People poke fun, you know.” You bit your tongue. Then, you saw him smirk a little. Ah. Lightyears.

“I thought we had a mutual connection,“ he raised his eyebrows, teasing you with your joke from That Night. You gave him a firm stare, but couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t that far away now.

“Loki, that was-“

“A thinly veiled truth,” he interjected, leaving no room for debate. He also left very little room between the two of you. You opened your mouth to respond, seemed to not be able to, and he smirked at your speechlessness.

"Y-you can't." You shook your head. "There's no way."

"There's no way, what?" A smiled tugged at his lips at the way your eyes widened when he took a strand of your hair and wrapped it once around his finger.

"... Mutual?"

“Now that we won’t be interrupted…” he brought his hand up next to his face, flourished it, and you heard your door’s lock click shut. You held your breath as a mischievous grin graced his lips.

Oh gods, you were looking at his lips. You couldn't seem to look away.

He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Might we finish what we started?”

With the smallest nod of your head, he immediately ducked his head to press his lips against yours. Your small noise of surprise made him pull away for a second and grin, before he playfully growled and lifted you from the ground. His eyes stayed trained on yours as he walked a few steps and firmly shoved your back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his hand found that place at the back of your neck, and this time, you kissed him. Eagerly, hungrily, feeling so overwhelmingly euphoric that this was even happening.

It had to be a dream, you thought as his lips trailed along your jawline, his hot breath hit your neck and his strong unwavering arms kept you above the ground and level with his gaze. He kissed you not just like a god or a great lover - he kissed you like he wanted you. Like he‘d also been waiting to do this for an unspeakable amount of time. It felt like relief.

Pulling you both back from the wall, Loki's lips didn’t relent as your fingers tangled once again in his hair. He walked backwards and found his seat on the end of your bed, sitting with you in his lap as he had at the party.

“Gods, you enrapture me,“ he pulled away, a little breathless. He grinned and his eyes were hazy. He looked at you intensely before looking back at your lips, subconsciously slipping out his tongue to wet his own. Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You could have melted into his touch. In fact, you were fairly certain you just might.

He leaned back and you both fell onto the bed, you on top of him. You laughed at the sudden impact and you pulled away for a few seconds to catch your breath. You looked at his adoring gaze and blushed. “I never thought someone like you could want someone like me.”

He furrowed his brow, unsure if you were about to reference his nefarious past.

”You’re so… mighty. You’re a Prince, a god, you’re wickedly smart and powerful and… and I’m just a human.”

“Watch your tongue,” Loki scolded somewhat seriously and held you a little tighter. “Don’t speak of yourself as if you’re insignificant.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, giving him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do, I’m wickedly smart,” he smirked and you playfully swatted at his chest. He smiled contentedly and ran his hands firmly down your sides to settle at your hips. It was an innocent romantic gesture, one to position you for further making-out with Loki, but your eyes widened at the memory of his discovery the previous weekend and the assumption that the God of Mischief was about to turn the tables.

Unluckily for you, your flustered expression rendered it a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“Loki…” You warned as you saw the glint in his eye.

“That’s right…” His smirk widened to a devilish grin.

”How about you keep kissing me, huh?” You laughed nervously and leaned in closer. Loki laughed and nodded, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of your neck as you pressed your lips to his. Once your arms were around his neck, he deepened the kiss and rolled over, putting you underneath him. Still on the edge of the bed, your feet barely skimmed the floor. Then, he suddenly became the classic Loki you knew.

“Mmmhmhm!” You whined and giggled a little into the kiss as the fingers belonging to his arm around your waist started ever so gently scratching at your side. “Mmnnoho!” You broke away and gave him a pouting look. He lifted his head and smirked.

Gods. He’d never looked so unspeakably hot.

Messy curls framing his face, that look he gave you that said You’re In Trouble in his distinct Loki way, mixed with the desire in his piercing blue eyes; you’d gladly endure his torture if it meant he looked at you like that.

But maybe that’s because you had no idea what was coming.

“Darling,” he cocked his head and kissed your cheek before kissing just below your ear. “I am the God of Mischief….“ he kissed your neck in a way that you were sure was intended to tickle. You giggled and bit your lip. “And now that I've got my hands on you, you simply cannot expect me to not exploit this little weakness to its fullest extent.”

“L-Loki!” You blushed at the very real threat and he chuckled.

“How about you guide me, hmm? Where should I start?”

“I’m not playing this game,” you laughed nervously, squirming a bit underneath him and resting your hands on his shoulders to push away the ticklish kisses.

“Aw, come now,” he lifted his head and that same beautiful smirk made your heart beat quick. His hand behind your neck slid down under your shoulder blade until it sat at your upper ribs. You stole a glance down to where it may be, even though you couldn’t see it. He cocked his head again. “No? Alright, I’ll choose.” With a wink his thumb slipped around the side and up into the hollow under your arm.

“LOKI!” You gasped, clamped your arm down from instinct and immediately started squirming and giggling, even though his thumb wasn’t even moving. He grinned again and kissed your lips once more.

“You've been down all week, love. Let's have a bit of fun,” he whispered, then sprang his hand at your waist into action, scratching and grabbing at the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You gasped again and started laughing softly, then squeaked when his thumb started wiggling into the hollow under your arm.

"NOHOHO!" You shut your eyes and then squealed loudly when his fingers underneath you began clawing into the back of your uppermost ribs. Damnit, you thought he may start easy on you, not go for three different places at once. You were already in a desperate cackle, bubbling incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as you writhed underneath his amused self.

"I'm honestly delighted you're so ticklish," Loki teased with a chuckle. "It's adorable, really. So professional all the time, yet..." He finished his sentence by intensifying his touch and speed at all three sites of attack, drawing a small shriek from your laughing lips and a jolt from your body. "Has it always been this easy to undo you?"

“OHMYGOHOD!” You shrieked, throwing your head against the bed and trying to buck your upper body against him to no avail. He paused his torture and kissed you deeply again, lips curled into a smile as he pressed his lips to yours. You shook your head and broke away, still laughing. “Youhou’re ridiculous! We were hahaving such a nice moment and y-you ruined ihit,” you whimpered. He kissed to again to silence your complaints.

“What did you expect?”

“I-I expected a nice romantic moment!” You laughed and brought both arms between you and him to shove at his shoulders. “Now,” you gave him a stern look. “Do you want to tickle me, or kiss me? You can only choose one.”

He scoffed. “I don’t do ultimatums, darling.”

“You do now.”

“Bold.“ He stuck his tongue against his cheek then ducked his head to the side in consideration. He then looked at your face, which you’d been attempting to hold in some semblance of a firm glare. He lowered his lips to your ear and you heard him chuckle once. “Far too bold for someone so ticklish.”

He whipped his arms out from under you and pressed his weight down again, trapping your arms between your bodies as he clawed into the front and sides of your lowest ribs.

“NOHOAHAH!” You immediately fell into desperate belly-laughter as his fingers drilled and clawed into the spaces between your bones. Your feet kicked helplessly, merely grazing the ground as laughter kept spilling from you. “NOHO! NO! LOKIHI I CAHAN’T!” He shifted his hands further up your ribcage and snuck his fingers around to dig in at the back and, after one more shriek, your laughter went silent. It was trapped in your chest as his squeezing and vibrating fingers found every sensitive space on your ribs that made you want to melt into a little puddle. You were gasping for air by the time he halted his attack, squeaking and wheezing as you tried to regain your breath.

It was torture, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask you if it was worth enduring to have him this close. If he could spot a lie from lightyears away, how much easier could he spot it when he was close enough for you to see the flecks of green in his eyes.

”You’re… you’re gonna kill me,” you hiccoughed. He smirked and leaned in for another kiss. “Nuh-uh,” you pulled your finger up as much as you could from where your arms were trapped. “You made your choice.”

He grinned and slid his hands down your sides with a wink, "Oh? Then I'll gladly continue."

"W-w-wait! I dihidn't th-WAHAIT!"

His thumbs drilled relentlessly into your hips as Loki joined in with your loud laughter. You finally managed to wiggle your arms out from where they were trapped at your chest, shooting them down to grab at his fingers. Your feet having no traction and his near entire weight pressing you to the bed made it impossible to buck or lift any part of your torso, so you were completely trapped with nowhere to go as he gripped and grabbed at the skin of your hips, kneading at the pressure points that made you squeak and squirm beneath him.

When he tired of your fingers trying to grab his, he did a devilish swift lift of his own body and slotted his hands between the two of you, settling them palms-down over the majority of your belly. You made a huge gasping noise and started frantically giggling and squealing even before he'd moved his hands. You shook your head and begged for him to kiss you instead, nervous high-pitched giggles interlacing your words.

"N-noho, Loki just kihiss me, kiss me plehease! PLEASE!" You squeaked, cupping his cheeks and gently pulling him towards you. He chuckled and grinned, gently digging a few fingers in just once. You thrashed and renewed your struggling and squealing efforts. "Dohon't you DAHARE! I won't kiss you agahain if you do this!" You threatened. He cocked his head and leaned in a little closer to look deep into your eyes. Then, he grinned and whispered:

"Lightyears."

You thought for certain you'd pass out from laughter when Loki's fingers sprang into action and rippled against your hypersensitive stomach. You laughed loudly, completely powerless to stop his fingers from digging in wherever they pleased. After not much time at all, your laughter went silent and you weakly batted at his shoulders, sides, face, anything your hands could find for themselves since your eyes were shut so tight. Any words your brain even began to think of forming got lost as laughter ripped through your chest from the electric intensity of his fingers against your body.

When your hands finally found both sides of his face, you used all the energy you had left to press your laughing lips against his and, finally, he relented. You fell back with a loud gasp as he retracted his hands with an amused chuckle and took his weight mostly off you, propping himself up with a hand planted either side of your head.

"Alright there, darling?" He teased as you coughed weakly and wiped the tears of mirth from your cheeks. You gave him a scowl, but he found it adorable.

"Thihis isn't fair," you crossed your arms defiantly.

"No?" He smirked. "Pray tell, my love. What isn't fair?"

Oh. My love. His love.

That took any breath you'd managed to get back in your lungs.

"Y-you... you..." But your words were lost in the bliss of being his. He seemed to quickly understand how his words touched your heart, and it softened his teasing demeanour, and softened his smirk into a smile. "You found my worst spots so soon," you managed to murmur through rosy cheeks.

"Was only a matter of time."

"But now you have the upper hand."

"Dear heart, this isn't a struggle for power," he laughed heartily. "I do not seek to rule over you. Anything you ask of me, anything in the Nine Realms, I will give to you."

"Tell me where you're ticklish."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before falling down beside you. He hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you as close as you could be.

"Anything but that."

[taleasnewastime]

Caught in the crossfire | Chapter 1

Summary: Taehyung gets paid to kill people, he isn’t ashamed to admit it (though it’s not something he shouts about). To date he has never found a reason that someone didn’t deserve to die. That the person hadn’t committed some hideous act. That the world wouldn’t be a better place without them in it. But that was before he got sent your information.

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Genre: assassin au; strangers to lovers; 18+ rating.

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: Mentions death, Taehyung is an assassin/killer, you’re unaware you’re being watched/monitored, Taehyung has questionable morals

Authors Note: Another day, another series, this time it’s Taehyungs turn. It has a pretty dark theme (I think I’ve just been watching too many police/mystery/thriller shows (Line of Duty!!!!)). I hope you enjoy!!

Series masterlist

Deep breath in.

Focus.

Deep breath out.

Follow the movements. Keep the target on shot.

Deep breath in.

Light pressure on the trigger.

Deep breath out.

One last check. Wind Ok. Distance Ok. Target in focus. Everything as planned.

Deep breath in.

Press the trigger. Bullet escapes the chamber, flies through the air, shatters the window, but neither the wind nor the glass stops its trajectory. It meets its intended target, on the intended spot.

Taehyung waits a second to see the body fall to the floor, making sure the job is done. Then he’s deconstructing his gun. He hardly has to think as he pulls the silencer off, his mind going almost numb as his body takes over, a process he has done thousands of times now. It takes him no time for the sniper to be in parts and back in its case. Standing up he picks up the case and casually walks away from the scene of the crime, making sure no evidence is left behind.

This is the most important time to not panic. Most people probably think it’s when you’re pulling the trigger, but it is actually after when you’re at your most vulnerable. If someone were to see him now, they would probably put two and two together and come up with him as the answer. Not something he needed the police, or any other interested parties hearing. If he were to run, he would look suspicious, if he were to act like he isn’t supposed to be there, then it’s as if he’s asking to be caught. No, the secret is to blend in, to look like you haven’t just killed somebody.

He casually walks down the stair well of the building. He passes one other person who he looks dead in the eye and gives them a small smile and nod of the head, a gesture less suspicious than avoiding eye contact and looking awkward. Weirdly the guy is more likely to forget him, Taehyung notices the way the man turns away from his stare, as if he feels awkward being acknowledged by a stranger. He won’t have even gotten a good look at Tae if by some small chance the police come knocking at his door.

Once at street level he steps out onto the pavement, walking the route to his car, a route he had scouted out days earlier and knows will avoid all CCTV cameras. It will be like he was never here.

He places the case with the sniper in in the boot and then gets into the driver's seat. He stays fully concentrated until he pulls into the garage for his building. Any small mistake could catch him out and he knows it. Slipping through a red light, breaking the speed limit, not wearing his seat belt. Small mistakes that would equate to monumental mistakes. He’s been doing this for years and still doesn’t slip, it was always the small things that got you caught in the end, and he was determined to never get caught.

It’s only until the door to his flat is closed behind him that he can fully relax. He dumps the sniper in his safe before collapsing on the sofa. Pulling out his phone he sends a quick message, it’s done, before checking his bank.

He’s always thought it was like some sort of magic trick, online banking, just numbers on a screen, the higher the better, and then the tap of a card and you can have anything you want (within reason). Looking at the screen now he’s satisfied to see the numbers have increased by the agreed amount since this morning. Now the job was truly done.

The tension leaves his body and he can feel his weight sink further into the sofa. The guilt of killing someone never comes. He never thinks there is anything to feel guilty about. He kills people, sure, but they always deserve it, there is always a reason behind it, otherwise he wouldn’t take the shot. Tonight, a member of a gang who had been selling drugs on the side for his own benefit, as well as using his connections to traffic humans. Not cool.

Some might say it’s an extreme sentence. What that unknown man was doing was wrong, 99.9% of the population would agree with him, but did he really deserve to die? Why not call the Police? Because the Police had too much other shit on their hands, that’s why. They never seemed to have time to deal with things like this, had red tape and a list of boxes they needed to tick before anything was actually done. And even then, the guy would be thrown into a prison for a few years just to be released able to do it all again.  

But Taehyung didn’t have any of those rules and regulations he had to follow.

He doesn’t choose the target; he works freelance and gets sent jobs through interested 3rd parties. He’s good at what he does, and his bank balance reflects that. But that doesn’t mean he has no morals. There is always a reason, even if he is never provided with it, he doesn’t just turn up to a spot and pull the trigger, no, there is more work involved than that. He has to scope out the best place to do the deed, and whilst he’s doing that, he finds information, information that usually tells him why the person has been given a death sentence. To date he has never found a reason that someone didn’t deserve to die. That the person hadn’t committed some hideous act. That the world wouldn’t be a better place without them in it.

But that was before he got sent your information.

Even though he had the destination set on his maps it took him a few wrong turns to find the shop. On the bottom of a high-rise building, next door to a small café and a laundrette, he wonders how any of the places manage to stay open. It wasn’t far out of the city centre, but with no other shops in the area, you would have to be purposefully coming this way to spot it. But maybe that was what you wanted, maybe that was the perfect situation for whatever hidden activities you did behind the doors.

The bell above the door jingles when he walks in. The sort of noise you expect from a small bookshop like yours. There’s a display at the front of the shop with signed editions of books. Another small table next to it with best sellers. A rack of individual sheets of wrapping paper. And then rows and rows of books. It wasn’t a big shop, but you were definitely utilising every space you could, cramming as much in as possible.

His eyes scan the empty shop. It was the sort of place that drew people in with its uniqueness. You came in for that one book you’ve been searching for everywhere and leave with three books you had no prior intension of buying, a novelty pen and a notebook that states you’ve got this on the front. It was cute, and he hated it.

Taehyung steps towards the closest display, his eyes scanning the piles of books that are buy one get one half price, when you finally appear. He recognises you immediately from the picture that sat on his computer. Though your hair is styled differently, your clothes different from the picture, you are exactly as he expected.

Y/N. He even knew your name. Knew you owned this shop and ran it alone. Knew that the flat that stood above the shop was where you lived. Knew you lived there alone, had no partner. He knew your age, your height, could probably find out your dress size if he really cared that much. He knew so much about you, and yet this was his first time ever seeing you in person.

He watches as you carry sheets of wrapping paper over to the stand before looking in his direction, a wide and welcoming smile on your face.

“Hello, is there anything I can help you with?”

Your voice was one of the things he didn’t know before stepping in here and he can’t help but think how much it suits you. It has a singing quality to it. Light and airy and happy just like your appearance.

He returns a boxy smile to you, relaxing his face to look less calculating. Slipping into the role of the curious customer he was supposed to be playing.

“Yes, actually. I’ve been looking for a book for a while now and didn’t want to buy it off Amazon, but seems I’ve been pretty unsuccessful in finding it elsewhere so far.”

His words cause the smile on your face to widen, he was trying to gain your trust, to get on your good side and it looked like his words were working.

“Well I hope I can help. What’s the name of the book?”

“See here’s the thing. You’d think I’d remember that by now, but all I know is it’s the one that the film The Arrival is based on?”

A small chuckle leaves your lips and the sound causes Taehyung's smile to become more genuine. He follows you to the counter as you head behind the till, standing opposite you as you start to type on the screen.

“I know the one, Stories of Your Life and Others. I just need to check the authors name, but I think you may be in luck.”

You knew your stuff about books then, or you had just been lucky to know the book Tae was talking about. But then if this was all a front, a way for you to hide what you were truly doing, it would help if you had some knowledge of the business, so really, it should be no surprise you knew the book. Still, it didn’t help Taehyung work out why your details had been sent to him.

When the information had come through to him, it had made him immediately interested. It wasn’t just the extraordinarily large sum of money that sat next to the word fee, because that had made his eyebrows raise; even the guy who had killed a mafia bosses' kid didn’t fetch what was being asked for you. No, what interested him was that you looked nothing like anyone that was normally sent his way. Not that there was a prerequisite for how all psychotic, murdering, child molesting, drug dealing, human trafficking weirdos that Taehyung was paid to kill should look, but you definitely looked different to all of them.

He couldn’t pin point what it was about you, but there seemed to be an innocence to you. And now he’s met you, even though it’s barely been 5 minutes, that statement seems to ring even more true.

As he follows you through the small shop to where you believe the book is placed, he can’t help but think that you would never be capable of committing any of the crimes that currently run through his head. It might be naïve of him, but he’s been in this game long enough to have good instincts on the matter. But that’s exactly why he’s doing all of this. Scoping out the target to find out why they fell into his lap, as much as to find out the best way to kill them. If there was something you were trying to hide, he would find it, and then he would know whether you deserved to die.

“Here we are,” you say as you come to a stop, hand reaching out to the shelf and pulling out the book he’d mentioned.

“Next time, I’ll know that I should start my search here,” the words evoke another smile from you.

“I try to stock a good range. And if we don’t have it then I can order it in for you.”

You were a good sales woman if nothing else. He’d almost believe this was your only income, that you needed this sale.

“Is there anything else you needed?” You ask.

“I might just have a browse if that’s ok?”

“Of course, take your time. I’ll be back at the front so just give me a shout if you need any help.”

His eyes remain on you as you walk back to re-stocking the wrapping paper. You seem oblivious to the danger you are currently in. Not that he expected you to know that you are currently in the same shop as one of the best assassins in the country, if not the world. But it felt strange that you were alone. No one else in the shop to watch your back or do business with. In his experience, it was rare for people to work alone, it made them vulnerable not having someone on their side, someone to help look out for and cover any mistakes.

But then Taehyung was alone, always had been. And he had done a lot of things to warrant a black line through his name. It makes him wonder what number would be next to fee if someone was to ever send a hit out on him. Almost definitely not as large as the number on yours, though he imagined it would be close if enough people knew what he’d done.

But he had never crossed the line and got caught. He had never been stupid enough for someone to find out who he was and what he had done. A few people knew, a few trusted people, and even they didn’t know all the details. That was your mistake, whatever you had done, or are doing, you’d been caught.

Taehyung goes back to scanning the shelves. Shuffling along the rows of books, eyes dancing across the book spines, hardly taking the words in. His mind was more preoccupied with memorising the layout of the shop, working out places to hide, trying to see if there was anything amiss.

When he gets to the end of the row, he sees the door to the back of the shop. The doors open and from where he is stood, he can see the boxes of presumably extra stock and not much else. Glancing over his shoulder he sees that you’re still busy putting the wrapping paper on the rack with your back to Taehyung. He dips into the room, steps around the corner so that you won’t see him if you turn to look.  

There are more boxes littering the small room. Pulling back the cardboard lid Taehyung sees it’s what he expected, fresh unopened books inside. He has a desire to pull back the covers and sniff the fresh pages, but instead continues to look around. To be honest it looks exactly like any stock room in any small book shop. The only thing of note is the set of stairs that lead to the flat above. A piece of information to store for another day.

With one last glance around the room Taehyung heads back out into the shop, where you’re still oblivious to the customer in your shop who is not shopping. He heads towards the till, picking up another random book on his way.

Placing the books on the counter is enough to get your attention. You almost spring into action, leaving the sheets of wrapping paper on the floor you brush your hands on your trousers before stepping behind the counter.

“Find everything you wanted?” You ask as you pick up the books he’s buying, silently judging his choice.

“It’s a really nice shop you have,” he says instead. “Have you had it long?”

He watches your eyes going from the books to his eyes, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Most people assume I’m just an assistant, not the owner.”

“Why?” Taehyung fakes surprise. “It’s not impossible for a young, beautiful woman like you to own a shop.”

He takes a small amount of pleasure watching the way your head ducks when he calls you beautiful. Your fingers fumble while they tap numbers on the screen. Again, it makes him wonder how someone like you could ever be considered dangerous.

“They’re especially surprised when they hear I did it all alone,” he doesn’t miss the cocky smirk that comes to your face, though you remain looking away from him, showing you’re still timid.

“It’s not a family business?” He digs.

“Unfortunately, not. It would have saved me a lot of hassle if it was,” you finally meet his eyes and he can see the truth behind your statement. “No. This was the result of a dream, a lot of hard work, and a couple of loans.”

“It looks like it’s all paid off at least,” he nods his head in the direction of the shop.

“Hopefully,” you give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and he has a desire to ask you about it. But he’s a stranger to you, just a customer that is buying two books, why would you ever tell him what you’re really thinking?  

“So, that’s £17.98,” you say and he holds up his card in answer to how he’s paying.

You tap a few buttons, he taps his card on the card reader, and the transaction is done. You pack up the books into a small paper bag and rip off the recipe, shoving it in the bag with the books.

Then you turn nervous again. You give him a few small glances, and he can see you’re wondering whether to say something. He silently wills you on, puts on his least intimidating smile, as if it will help coax out the words.

“We do events here. I don’t know if you would be interested. There’s book signings with local authors, a few coffee mornings with the café next door, a book club if that’s your sort of thing, we do children's story time if you have any kids?” You can barely look him in the eye as you hold onto a leaflet with dates of upcoming events. The whole thing so endearing that he has to try and supress the smile threatening his lips.

“No kids,” he says and almost laughs when he sees you shoot him a look that looks a lot like relief. “But I’d be very interested in some of the other things. What’s the next one you have coming up?”

You turn shy again, looking down at the leaflet to check the dates that he knows will probably already be in your head.

“We have the author Isabella Tree coming in to talk about her book Wilding,” you shoot him an amused smile. “I know, her name is too perfect. It’s like the olden days when your name was your occupation.”

He lets out an amused chuckle and your face lights up. “And what about you? Are you a Page or a Reade?”

He can almost feel the heat radiating off you at this point and it gives him more confidence. Even he has to admit that was a smooth line.

“No,” you squeak the words out. “I’m Y/N.”

“Taehyung,” he smiles down at you. “Well, I’ll definitely be interested in coming to the event. Do I have to buy a ticket or anything?”

“No tickets, just turn up on the day,” you reply.

He nods, picking up the bag with his new books. “I might see you there then.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” you say as he heads towards the door.

He doesn’t look back, but can feel your eyes on him the whole way. He came here for answers, and not that he expected to have them all by now, but he certainly didn’t expect to be walking away with more questions than he arrived with. At least there would be another opportunity to snoop and hopefully get all his ends tied up.

The tables that held signed copies of books and best sellers when he was last here are now pushed to the edges of the room, snacks instead of books on them. There are a couple of rows of chairs all facing one direction, where a solitary chair sits.

Taehyung walks straight over to the snacks, shoving a few crisps in his mouth while he looks around the small bookshop.

There were only 4 other people sat waiting for the author to come out, more than he would have guessed, and you were nowhere to be seen. Presumably you were out back with the author, doing whatever people do when waiting to speak about a book they’ve written.

He had little to no interest in Wilding the book Isabella Tree was about to speak about. But it was the first event you had going, and like hell he was going to wait a month for an evening with Sylvia Day, some erotic novelist. Then the only other option was a reading of The Gruffalo, and he wasn’t above kidnapping a child to fit in, plus, he had already told you he had no children. Wilding it was, which in all honesty, could be a lot worse.

He takes a small paper plate and loads it with as many snacks as he can before taking one of the seats at the back.

You walk out minutes later, introducing the woman next to you as Isabella, who launches into a speech about how her and her husband changed their farming techniques to become less intensive, allowing nature to take back areas in a bid to become more ecological as well more sustainable. Honestly, Taehyung found it surprisingly interesting. Isabella managed to make the time fly enough that he wasn’t constantly looking down at his watch, and for that, he was grateful.

There are a few questions at the end, but then the event is over, however, as Taehyung hoped, people lingered. Drawn back to the snack table, he chats with a few people before heading over to you.

“Hey,” he says, and doesn’t miss the way your shoulders tense in surprise.

You turn on the spot to face him. “Hi. I’m so glad you could make it. What did you think?”

“Really interesting, especially the bit about how we are slowly but surely killing our biodiversity,” Taehyung widens his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. “But no, it was good. Especially the Cheese and Onion crisps.”

You laugh, a full belly laugh, head falling back on your neck, and something swoops inside Taehyung at the sight.

“It’s good you learnt something at least. That’s why I like doing these things so much. Sometimes people come with no idea about the book or author and go away loving it,” you say, face lighting with passion. “And the crisps are Tyrrells. There’s still a half open bag if you want it?”

“Now that I can be on board with,” he shoots you a wide boxy smile. “One last thing though. I don’t suppose you have a toilet I can nip into?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Go through the door at the back and on your right there's a bathroom.”

“Thanks,” he shoots you one last smile before you are pulled into another conversation and he starts off to the back of the room.

He’s been through the door before. The stock room looks exactly how it had the other day, boxes piled on the floor, table in the corner. He can see the door for the bathroom, pokes his head around the door just to check, but that’s not really why he’s come back here.

He’s quick to leap up the stairs, trying his best to keep his feet light so no one can hear him. The door at the top of the stairs has a lock but is thankfully open. Pushing it open and stepping inside, he is met with the sight of a small flat that reflects the space of the shop below. Instead of book shelves there's a sofa and a TV. Instead of a counter and till there’s a small kitchen area and breakfast bar. And to the side there’s a door that is pushed open showing a double bed and wardrobe doors. It’s not a big space, but it looks cosy, enough for one person, and Taehyung is pretty thankful it’s not bigger as it will mean his next job is not made harder.

He starts off by looking at the most obvious places, he has limited time, so if he’s going to get caught in the act early, he needs to think strategically. His eyes do a quick sweep of the room and he lands on his first point of interest.

Your laptop is just sat on the sofa, it’s like an invitation to just open it up and have a look. Taehyung doesn’t even sit down as he picks it up, he needs to remain mobile, if you walked into the room now and he was sat lounging on your sofa he wouldn’t be able to worm his way out of the situation as easily. The screen lights up and immediately he’s on the home page; you don’t even have a password? It makes him think there is nothing of note on here, but he still does a few clicks around to check. As expected, nothing.

He places the laptop back in the same spot he found it, before moving on. Surely there is another laptop somewhere. All he’d found on that one was some personal holiday photos and documents to do with the bookshop. There could be some folders in the deepest darkest depths of that laptop that incriminated you somehow, but it just didn’t add up in his mind. His search was quick but thorough and he saw nothing.

But his search didn’t stop there. Maybe you were old school, kept whatever you did on paper. Maybe you did have another laptop that was in a safe, hidden away. Maybe you did business purely on a mobile. There were still options.

Taehyung does as in depth a search as he can under the pretence that he’s in the toilet. He knew if he spent too long up here you would come looking, or he would have some awkward interaction when he comes out of the toilet after 20 minutes.

Like the laptop his search is quick but thorough. And he finds absolutely nothing.

There is no evidence of you being a murderer. Nothing about you owing money to some dodgy dealers who have chosen that you’ve had enough warning and should be killed. No documents of you moving illegal goods across borders. No messages to anyone that could be classed as dangerous, and Taehyung would recognise their names as he has dealt with a lot of dangerous people. No human trafficking. No evidence you’re a gang leader. Nothing to say you were an online hacker. No stolen goods.

He’s stumped. Something no one has ever done, and you’ve done it.

He can’t kill you without knowing that you’re a bad person. He can’t ask you what you’ve done, but he also can’t find anything anywhere about literally anything illegal you’ve done. There wasn’t even any parking or speeding tickets. You were as clean as they come.

There were still possibilities. You could have a warehouse, a separate location where everything is stored and happens. But he doesn’t have time for that. He’s been given a job that has a time-frame, this isn’t some fun activity he’s decided to do.

He heads back down the stairs, back through the stock room, through the door into the shop.

It’s as if he hadn’t left, you were still talking to the same person who caught you after he left. No one had, thankfully, noticed he’d been gone longer than for just a wee.

He comes to stand next to you, mind still whirling with the possibilities of who you are and why people want you dead. He joins the conversation half way through, the confusion obviously evident on his face when you attempt to get him involved in the conversation by explaining.

“Have you heard of the politician Robert Morton who’s been accused of having loads of affairs?”

He didn’t really follow the news, or generally keep up to date with what was happening in the world, but he would have struggled to avoid this story, it was everywhere.

“I don’t really see why it’s become such a massive story, sure having an affair when you’re trying to become Prime Minster must not be a good look, but does it stop him effectively doing his job?” He comes clean on his lack of knowledge on the topic.

The woman you were talking to, who he doesn’t know, speaks up. “It’s more than him just having an affair though. This dates back years. There’s rumours of the terrible things that he did to these women, though no one has actually come forward to say anything against him.”

“White men in power,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Innocent until proven guilty,” Tae chips in, which was evidently the wrong thing to say when both women shoot him displeased looks.

“He’s going to have to do a miracle to get this one to blow over. He’s not got long left till the vote and I can say that it makes me not want to vote for him,” the woman continues.

“I guess if no one comes forward to actually say that these allegations are right though, how do we know it’s not just his opposition framing him to make themselves look better?” You say.

“True,” the woman lets out a sigh. “It’s like the whole Harvey Weinstein scandal. How do these men get away with these crimes for years with no consequences?”

Jesus, this was serious for a book event. He would need a strong drink if he was going to continue talking politics.

He nods his head in the direction of the snack table and swiftly departs the conversation.

He would have loved to have told them what he did, loved to have seen the look on their faces when he said that it was his job to kill people who did what those men were doing. And he totally agreed with what they were saying, it was wrong, and they deserved to be punished to hell for it. But it seems to only solidify in his mind that you are not bad. The genuine innocence in your voice at the thought of what those men had done sounded real, but if you knew that there were men, and women, out there, living scout free who have done things one hundred times worse, he wonders how you’d react then.

You were either innocent, or one hell of a good actresses. And Taehyung was unsure which one to believe.

He had devoured most of the snack table before you made your way over to him. Thankfully you were alone this time.

“You’re making it so much easier for me to clear up.”

“I can lick the bowls clean if you want?” He asks and watches the amusement sparkle in your eyes.

“It would make the washing up easier too,” you joke.

“I did genuinely enjoy tonight by the way.”

“I’m glad,” you give him a small but genuine smile. “Believe it or not, this was a pretty good turn out.”

“I can believe it. You should do it more often. I looked at the list and you only have two book events this month, I bet a lot of people would be interested if you did more,” his words weren’t a lie for once.

“Find me the authors and maybe I’ll take you up on the offer.”

You seemed so unlike when he first met you. That day you were all shy and preserved. Sure, you had welcomed him to the shop and engaged in conversation with him, but that seemed like a front that you put on because you had to talk to customers. Today, you seem more confident, more open and easy to talk to. It throws him for six, unsure what to think.

“Looks like people are heading home,” he nods his head in the direction of one of the people leaving the shop. “Want me to help clear up?”

You look up at him, eyes wide with surprise, as if no one has ever offered to help you before.

“Don’t be silly,” you stutter the words out and it only makes the fondness in him grow.

“Silly,” he chuckles like he’s never heard the word before, he’s definitely not been called it before. “It’s the least I can do as I cleared you out of crisps.”

Your eyes search his, but he remains calm under your gaze. He wants to stay, and he realises it’s not only because it would be another good opportunity to find out more information about you.

“You didn’t. Like I said, there’s still a half open bag out back. Which I will get for you before you leave.”

“Ah, so you want me to clean you out?”

He can see you flush under the words, even though you don’t outwardly show it. His smile only broadens at the effect he is having on you.

“They’ll only get chucked if you don’t take them,” you shrug.

“Well, we can’t have that.”

He watches your throat bob at his deepened voice. God, you were too easy. But you were trying hard to not make it obvious and he had to commend that at least.

You don’t say a word as you turn and head to the back of the shop. Taehyung watches as you disappear from site, then surveys the shop. He pretends to be interested in the remaining customers when he senses you coming back. Pretends to be surprised when you appear at his side, as if he had no idea you had even come back.

“Don’t eat them too fast,” you say when you hand over the promised bag.

“I owe you,” he says.

“It’s fine,” you say, wafting a hand in front of you as if dismissing the whole thing.

“Well, Y/N,” he says, standing to his full height. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. It was a lovely evening. I will see you soon.”

“Thanks for coming,” you look up at him, your voice once again weak.

He gives you one last large smile before turning on his heels. He feels your eyes on him the whole way, and when he gets to the door he pauses and looks back, confirming his suspicions when he meets your eyes.

“And thanks for the crisps,” he lifts the bag in the air as evidence for what he means before opening the door and leaving, not waiting to see if you reply.

He clicks open the secure messaging system. It’s unconventional what he’s about to do, there’s probably some rule somewhere that says he can’t do it. But what are they going to do? He’s freelance so they can’t fire him. They could not hire him again, maybe tell other’s not to too, but he doubts they would do that.

There’s no other way around it. He’s done what he can to find out who you are and has found nothing, so asking the source is his only option.

Taehyung: I have questions about my latest hit and why they have been given to me to deal with.

He doesn’t know who sits on the other end of the computer reading his messages, just like they don’t know who he is. Unknown is the only name he is ever given for any of the people he talks to. It’s safer for everyone that it’s done that way.

Three dots appear showing someone is typing.

Unknown: What’s happened? Has something gone wrong?

Taehyung: Nothings gone wrong. I just fail to see why this person deserves to die.

Unknown: I see you’re playing Judge and Jury now. It’s not really your decision. We pay you to do a job not make decisions.

Taehyung: A job I can decline.

There’s a pause. No dots appear and he wonders if he’s pushed them too far.

He’s made them think. They don’t have to tell him anything besides a name and a price. But equally he doesn’t have to accept that offer. If he declines then they could get someone else, but that someone else would be less clean and everyone knows it. Taehyungs using his celebrity as the best assassin to get what he wants.

Unknown: What do you want to know?

It’s a question even he struggles with. What does he want to know? The list is too long to type out now. Even if he did, he knows they would laugh him out the room and he would be without any answers. No. He needs to think this through, pitch them the perfect question that will give him what he needs.

Taehyung: Why?

He types the single word and presses send, but then continues to clarify.

Taehyung: Why does someone want her dead? What has she done?

He waits. No dots appear and he wonders whether he’ll ever get an answer. But he can see the other person is still online. It’s like a game of chicken, waiting to see who will give in first. Them with their information or Taehyung with the prospect of the money from the job.

Taehyungs will wins as the three dots shows them typing.

And then the message appears. The reason you’re wanted dead. There, in plain black and white. No mistaking the reason.

Taehyung falls back into his chair, his body going limp with shock. But his eyes remain on the screen, reading the words over and over again as if it will help lessen the blow that has just been dealt to him.

Well fuck, is all he can think.