#welcome 2 the pain train motherfucker

[serickswrites]

Hiss

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Warnings: restraints; kidnapping; pet whump; blood; biting, defiant whumpee

Whumper surveyed their new pet as they knelt on the floor, their arms bound behind their back. Whumper was very pleased. This one was very....pretty. “Welcome, my pet.”

“Pet?” Whumpee tilted their head. “That’s a first.”

Whumper frowned. “Yes, pet. This may come as a--”

“Wait, like pet pet?”

Whumper took a slow breath. New pets always took training. This one was proving to be...difficult. “I am your master now. You will listen to me!”

Whumpee rolled their eyes. “Listening has never really been my thing.”

“Then you will learn,” Whumper sneered. They cast about for their crop. This one was testing their patience. 

“I’m assuming you would much rather a warm cuddly pet. Never had a dog. Mother abhorred all things with fur. The man who raised me, he had cats.” Whumpee continued to ramble on.

“What are you going on about, my pet?” Whumper asked as they snatched their riding crop from the desk.

Whumpee’s eyes grew wide as Whumper brought the crop close to Whumpee’s face. Whumper brought it under their chin, lifting it slightly. “I-I was just saying I don’t have much practice with pets.”

“Well, I can teach you, pet.” Whumper whispered. “You were around cats?”

“Sometimes. Not too often. My sister is allergic. But,” Whumpee’s blue eyes shined brightly as Whumper ran the crop down Whumpee’s body. “But I did have a pet once.”

Whumper cupped Whumpee’s face delicately, crop poised to strike if needed. “Oh? My pet had a pet? And tell me, pretty, what did you have?”

The blue eyes turned icy as Whumpee twisted in Whumper’s grasp. “Snakes.” Whumpee bit down on Whumper’s hand that cupped Whumpee’s face. Whumper howled and attempted to strike Whumpee with the crop, but Whumpee lunged forward, shifting Whumper off balance. 

The two of them fell into a heap on the ground, Whumpee thrashing violently as they continued to bite down on Whumper’s hand. Whumper’s pained shrieks drew the attention of their minions who flooded the room and one of the minions hooked two fingers in Whumpee’s nose forcing Whumpee to release Whumper. 

Whumper jumped up, snatched their crop and slapped Whumpee across the face. “That was a bad pet! How dare you bite your master!” They slapped Whumpee again. 

Icy blue eyes stared up at Whumper, defiant as ever. Whumpee licked the blood off their lips. Whumper’s blood. “Hiss hiss, motherfucker.”

[iwantescapism13]

'The Core and The King' - Dark Marcy finally appears and we get to see King Andrias' past.

Fucking. YES.

After several episodes of being missing, Dark Marcy has finally appeared with more lines than just a freaking sentence and they were quite... dorky. I didn’t expect that at all. It made me feel like I shouldn’t be scared of such a villain. 

However... the indications that Marcy is trapped somewhere else while The Core plays around? Damn. That’s so evil. On top of that, they are very, VERY sarcastic. It’s what’s “charming” about them, I’d say. 

I’m excited to see how Amphibia will tackle Dark Marcy’s characterization moving forward.

For now, my comments [in which I bully King Andrias most of the time, so go and have a read if you hate him too]:

Oh no! They teared Marcy’s phone apart! Shit! Some of her memories are in there!

They really love the word ‘pathetic’, huh? Also, does this mean that they didn’t find anything useful in the phone? If that’s the case... then Marcy’s phone probably contains stuff about Anne and Sasha! Oh no!

King Andrias asking the most important question of all.

How dare you ask if Marcy’s in there, you pompous a**hole. But fine. It’s for the viewers’ sake.

What the hell did you all do to Marcy?! WHERE IS SHE?! Is she in pain?! Is she miserable?! Is she in a forever loop of good memories with Anne and Sasha?! DAMN IT ALL!

So, a few things to take note with this: 1) Dark Marcy talking using teenager lingo is seriously unsettling [considering WHO are inside The Core]; 2) Marcy has a sweet tooth [the only other food that we know she loves is mint-chocolate ice cream]; and 3) “UBE”??! Is... Is Marcy... Filipino? But... But if she was, wouldn’t Matt Braly have stated it in that interview where he revealed Sasha’s and Marcy’s ethnicities or whatsoever? She’s just confirmed to be Taiwanese. But... if it turns out that she’s half-Filipino as well, oh my god... I’ll be so damn happy. Side note: makes me want to try Red Velvet + Ube frosting now.

Oh gosh. Dark Marcy is clumsy. Is it possible that the final battle will be comedic? We shall see...

“Redundant memories”, eh? I trust that Dark Marcy is smart enough to retain Marcy’s memories of Anne and Sasha so they could use it to blackmail or manipulate the Resistance in a certain way. However, it could work the other way around too because then she’ll be easily controllable. They didn’t need to take over. They can just tell her what to do and she’ll do it on her own accord. She’ll be their puppet. But then... they’ve been wanting a body so... hmm... I wonder what they’re planning...

Geez... Dark Marcy just keeps bullying King Andrias to no end, huh? Well... serves that motherfucker right.

~Welcome to Amphibia~ ~Have a look around~ ~In here conquering worlds is apparently normal to be found~ ~We got mountains of adverts~ ~Some bad and some worse~ ~If none of it’s an interest to you~ ~You will be killed~

So I saw people mention that the original trio are just children in this flashback. And I questioned that, if that’s the case, why would Barrel be assigned to be a guard here. Then I remembered that Grime told Sprig that toads were trained since they were young. Huh... good continuity there.

This stupid salamander had the audacity to interrupt Barrel’s job, but when Leif and Barrel later plays around with the music box, he tells them to give it back like a sissy child. He’s such a pathetic dude, I cannot even.

Barrel is the hero we need and deserve right now. 

Including the current one, King Andrias had done the same thing and lost 26 fucking times. Haha. What a loser.

Leif’s note to King Andrias.

Sooooooooo... we all know what kind of dance she’s talking about here, right? Or is it just me?

Blush of embarrassment from King Andrias and a really high Barrel. I love Barrel. He’s fun.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh my god, Barrel is such a funny toad. He’s my favorite amphibian now.

PFFFFFFFFFT! “’Drias”?! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! So lame.

Look at this pompous idiot’s face. So he had always been an arrogant one. And apparently, “invasion” is a positive word around Amphibia back then that Leif and Barrel CLAPPED THEIR HANDS AS CONGRATULATIONS. Wow... times were so different.

Geez... King Andrias was such a massive simp.

Former King Aldrich sounds a bit like Belos. *proceeds to check whether this is true* Okay, he isn’t voiced by the same voice actor but holy shit! He voiced some characters in Dark Souls and Bloodborne! God damn!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA oh my god, I cannot. It’s such a lame nickname. XD

SO THE FANS WERE RIGHT! FORMER KING ALDRICH IS THE ONE WHO SAID THIS LINE! But... not gonna lie, it was kinda disappointing that this wasn’t directed to Marcy.

Yeah... friends do be like that once someone in the friend group attains a high position.

Former King Aldrich speaking THE TRUTH.

There it is. Greatest minds + Leviathan ancestry. I’d say they’re very smart. With their consciousness transferred to a robot, they can technically be considered immortal. I’m curious as to HOW they managed to do that, though. You got to admit, that’s very impressive.

“Savages”? Damn, sir. You talk as if you’ve been there. Also, what kind of resources would you even need? You said it yourself: Earth is medieval. There’s nothing that the world can offer that you don’t already have. Amphibia is, like, centuries ahead in its advancement of technology. 

If you think this line makes this pompous idiot redeemable, well you’re dead wrong. He’s gonna fucking change his goddamn mind later on in the episode. I wasn’t fooled by his words.

But why the hell do you need to invade other worlds to survive? That doesn’t make any sense! Look at Amphibia! All the amphibians are doing fine, you salamanders are in charge of everything, and let’s not forget about all of the technological advancements. What more do you guys need? MORE robots? Why? Is it not enough? Is Amphibia still not prosperous enough for you? Most importantly, ARE YOU BORED OR SOMETHING??

GASP! It’s in one of my predictions that Leif will steal the music box as a joke! Oh my god, I can’t believe it came true! Holy shit!

This is the only time I ever felt that bullying is well-deserved. Go Leif! Go Barrel!

So... all 3 of the gems can be pressed, eh? I’d say this is just convenience at this point. It makes me wonder what will happen now if any of the Calamity Trio press all gems together. Will they see what’s gonna happen in the future too?

Let me just say that the background music during this vision scene was fucking scary as shit. 

Probably an unpopular opinion but: Leif is such a hypocrite in this scene. She was totally okay with the invasion of another world - which would probably mean the total annihilation of a species - but as soon as she knew that it’d affect Amphibia, suddenly she gets all teary-eyed and realizes that what they’re doing is wrong. 

No, Leif. You only knew it because you saw the vision. 

Geez, lady! Haven’t Amphibia had enough resources?! Jesus!

This just means that Former King Aldrich KNEW about the vision and refuses to act on it because The Core told him not to.

“Sacred birthright”? Sure, it was created in Amphibian soil and whatever, but that doesn’t make YOU the right one to use the gems to conquer worlds - or conquer ANY THING for that matter. Who even told you that?

I’m actually surprised that King Andrias even gave Leif a chance to present her case. This doesn’t add to his redemption whatsoever, though.

Former King Aldrich have a point, you know. Despite being an aloof father, he doesn’t seem half bad in trying to sound like he’s encouraging his son. This may be borderline manipulation, but he has given King Andrias chances to prove himself. He never thinks of him as anything less. I don’t know...

Again, WHY? Is it because of the finite resources? And once the CloakBots are out of commission, does that mean that Amphibia is doomed? But again, WHY? They were robot-less for 1,000 years after the incident with Leif and the music box and Amphibia seems totally fine. So what’s getting these creatures so bananas?

You are NEVER gonna get redeemed in my eyes, King Andrias. Never.

He treasures his friends, that’s what I’m sure of. He was just blinded with the idea of proving himself to his father and not disappointing his ancestors. WELL. That still doesn’t make him redeemable because HE HAD ONE THOUSAND FUCKING YEARS TO THINK ABOUT WHAT HE HAD DONE BUT NO. HE CHOSE VIOLENCE. HE CHOSE TO STAB MARCY. How is this pompous a**hole redeemable? Dark Marcy is right. He’s pathetic.

To be completely fair, it’s a bullshit move to betray her friends like that. She was all in favor of invading other worlds and just because something weird happened, suddenly turned 180 and run off with the music box? Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

Barrel, what exactly do you plan to do here? Knock her unconscious? Okay, actually that’ll work.

Reason #1354657 on why King Andrias will never be redeemed in my books: he had the intention of killing Leif after she stole the Calamity Box.

So... something interesting about this is that it was shown in a vase in ‘Fight At The Museum’ that Leif went to Earth and showed humans the Calamity Box. Does this mean that the olms told her to go there and find the destined 3 stars that will save Amphibia? So... does this mean that she died on Earth? Can amphibians last until over a thousand years too or does that only apply to salamanders? Because if so, is it possible that she’s still alive somewhere?

Two things: 1) WHAT DRUGS ARE YOU ON, FORMER KING ALDRICH?! Amphibia is doing perfectly fine! and 2) You see, Former King Aldrich didn’t even do anything to punish King Andrias when he clearly messed up. He’s a fine father. He’s just... manipulative.

The fact that it has been 1,000 years since then, these salamanders sure are patient as fuck.

DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE LOOK AT MARCY WITH THOSE EYES! YOU. FUCKING. STABBED. HER! YOU DECIDED TO DO THAT! DON’T YOU DARE START HESITATING NOW, YOU FUCKING COWARD!

----

Ahem. Okay. Anyway.

What a very good half-episode! I absolutely love Barrel, he’s such an adorable and loyal toad. Now, I feel sad that he’s already dead. He would’ve been a great addition to the main cast. I love Dark Marcy as well, the sarcasm and all those times they bullied King Andrias that made him look so small and... well... lack of a better word, pathetic. 

As you can see, I hate King Andrias and will continue to hate him because he never gave me the impression that he’s redeemable. He may be a misguided kid, but he should be smart enough to think about Leif’s decision and everything else that happened over and over and over for one thousand years. But no, he’s bent on “taking revenge” on his friends. And now, he just seems so fucking salty that he failed before he even began to prove himself to his father and to everyone.

And Leif... I... couldn’t say I like her. I can’t deny that she did a really good job in being loyal to her own morals and beliefs, but... she agreed to the invasion earlier without any thoughts of how it’ll affect the other party until she saw the vision. It felt very hypocritical of her. So... yup.

And since we didn’t have any opening and ending themes for this episode, I’m anticipating a new one next week. Well... honestly, the ending theme can stay. It’s a very nice animation done by hardworking people. But the opening theme... the characters are now in Amphibia and it’s the final set of episodes. They should have an updated one already.

Anyway, I give this episode a 10/10. Perfect... because of my boy, Barrel. XD

[luxekook]

ego | jjk | harry potter au

⇥ pairing: gryffindor jeongukk x hufflepuff reader

⇥ genre: harry potter AU, smut, fluff, angst

⇥ summary: in which jeongguk is a cocky lil shit and the reader has to take him down a few pegs 

⇥ warnings: 18+, dirty talk, light smut, cursing

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

The wind whirled around me as I careened towards the glistening goal posts, imagining the opposing team’s Keeper darting back and forth in hopes of blocking the Quaffle that was currently tucked under my arm. I feigned left and the imaginary keeper followed suit. I threw right – Quaffle sailing through the rightmost gold hoop.

I smiled and dove down past the posts to catch up with my own throw. Even though it was still the first week of the new term, I was determined to prove my newly acquired captain-status. Hufflepuff hadn’t had a female captain in ages; and, paired with that, I was only a 6th year.

Luckily, I had a strong team behind me with mostly returning players who I knew would fiercely support me. Us Puffs stuck together. It was inherently in our blood to be loyal as hell to our own, and I thanked Merlin for that every day since receiving the captain’s badge.

As soon as I had hopped on the Hogwarts’ Express a few days prior, I had immediately been swept up in a giant bear hug by Jeong Yunho, one of the Hufflepuff beaters.

“Oh, captain! My captain!” he had dramatically cried, spinning me around. His Dead Poet’s Society reference was not lost on me since I had a muggle parent with excellent taste in movies. Similar reactions from the rest of the team followed suit over the course of the train ride and the Welcoming Feast.

Trials for our only open position of Seeker would take place this weekend with practices immediately starting Monday. We had high hopes for redemption this season after being crushed by Slytherin’s team of goons early on in the Cup tournament.

The Slytherin team’s head hooligan Kang Dokyun led his team with a nasty blend of intimidation and violent tactics. I was convinced that Slytherin didn’t even hold trials and that they just lined up the Slytherin boys, picking out the biggest of the lot. Basically, Slytherin was strong, but slow and slightly uncoordinated. We could beat them by exploiting their weaknesses – of that I was certain.

Ravenclaw would be a bit harder to conquer. Their team played with a level of elegance and intelligence that was so utterly Ravenclaw that even us Puffs got annoyed. Ravenclaw’s captain Yoon Jisoo constructed tactical plays so tricky that she was already recruited to play for Puddlemore next year. Their team was smart, but not completely unbeatable. The Ravenclaws sometimes got so ingrained in their methodical maneuvers that they failed to notice some of their opponents’ counterattacks. That was how they lost the Cup last term to Gryffindor.

Gryffindor was our toughest competition. Winning the Cup last term, the Gryffindor team was a nauseatingly perfect balance between brains and brawn. Their captain Jeon Jeongguk, now a 7th year, was renowned for his tyrannical practice regime that he put his team through. We’d only played Gryffindor once in the regular season last year, and we had held our own for a while until we started getting tired and they didn’t. Seems like Jeongguk knew his shit when it came to conditioning. Something that I was determined to emulate with my own team.

Jeongguk was also the best damn Keeper that Hogwarts had seen in a long time, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the looks of the professional Quidditch scouts that avidly attended his matches. He was way bigger than a typical Keeper – extremely tall with broad shoulders and giant paws for hands. However, the only thing bigger than his stature and talent was his fucking ego.

He carried himself like he was the king of the school, and, unfortunately, most people treated him like it. Girls especially flocked to him – mainly for two reasons: 1) Jeongguk was undoubtedly hot, and 2) he held the promise of a rich future. Personally, I cared for neither of those traits considering his appalling personality and pride.

That damned ego would be his downfall this season. I would make sure of it, I thought as I circled around the stadium and then landed to get a drink.

I was definitely above average on the Quidditch talent scale. Holding the current school record for most assists in a season, I considered myself the glue of the Hufflepuff team – a fact that our Head of House obviously agreed with. However, no one really talked about the glue of a team, they talked about the flashy glitter and the gold stars. I was fine with that. Being the underdog was nothing new to a Hufflepuff, and I planned on using that to our advantage this season. Who said Puffs couldn’t be a little devious?

I smirked to myself as I grabbed my broom, ready to get back to practicing. This would be our fucking year.

“Hey,” a deceptively sweet voice rang out from above me, “You mind sharing the pitch? I need to practice.”

My mood soured. I knew who that was. Kicking off the ground, I flew to face him, “Sure thing, Jeon, just stay out of my way.”

It was almost as if I’d slapped him across the face, “Excuse me?” he choked out, “Do I know you?”

Unbelievable. Jeongguk’s head was evidently so far up his own ass he couldn’t recognize opponents he’d been playing for years. “I guess not,” I countered. And with a flick of my ponytail, I took off towards the opposite end of the pitch.

Unfortunately, he followed, “Are you a Gryffindor? If so, you should come to tryouts tomorrow. You’re pretty fast and we need a new Chaser.”

“Not a Gryffindor,” I called out, dipping low to the ground to scoop up my old practice Quaffle, “But I am a Chaser.”

Jeongguk was still tailing me, and I pulled to a stop to face him, “I thought you had to practice?”

He mirrored my position and crossed his arms. I tried (and failed) to stop myself from noticing how his biceps flexed and how a hint of his famed phoenix tattoo curled up his neck. Merlin, even I couldn’t deny he was hot as fuck. The recent summer months seemed to have blessed his skin with a glowing tan that accentuated the warmth of his dark eyes. It also seemed like he forgot what a haircut was as I watched the wind tousle his slightly curling hair.

“I do,” his eyes were narrowed as he cleared his throat, “I just have to make sure you’re not spying for another team.”

All thoughts of him being fine flew out the Owlery as I scowled. I refused to be intimidated by some arrogant asshole, “Did you not hear me when I said to stay on the opposite end of the pitch, Jeon? What kind of self-respecting spy would ask that?”

“You’re a Slytherin,” Jeongguk declared, his tone too sure for my liking.

He was really aggravating me now, and it took a lot for a Puff to get pissed off, “So, just because I have a semblance of a backbone, I’m a Slytherin? You need to brush up on your House knowledge.”

He was quiet, his expression contemplative, his jaw clenched. His eyes were scanning me with an intensity I was not sure I liked. And then he did something I liked even less: “I propose a game,” his mouth twisted upwards in a smirk, “You say you’re a Chaser?”

I gave a slight tilt of my chin in affirmation. He resumed, “Well, then you must know I’m a Keeper.” He paused, grinning wickedly, waiting for me to react to the double entendre. Eyebrows raised at my pointed silence, he continued, “And we both need to practice… So how ‘bout you try to score on me and for every shot I block you have to answer one of my questions.”

This motherfucker right here. I summoned my inner Helga to give me the strength to deal with this Gryffindor prick, “Say I was to agree to this, what would I get if I score on you?”

The laugh I got in response made all thoughts of remaining a kind and patient Puff evaporate faster than a weak Patronus.

He was still laughing when he noticed I looked ready to Avada him wandless, “Okay, okay. What do you want if you score?” He barely got the words out in between chuckles.

“To come to a Gryffindor practice.”

That shut him up real fast, “No fucking way. I don’t need you distracting my players.”

My nose crinkled, “Distracting? I would just be sitting in the stands, you prick.”

His jaw ticked as he rolled his eyes, “You could be on the furthest corner of the pitch and you’d still distract them, jagi.”

“Don’t call me that. And, pray tell, why I would distract them?” Our brooms were now practically touching as we had instinctively moved closer to one another. I could see the sweat glistening on his brow and the shadow of stubble on his jaw. Merlin, he was potent.

“Because,” Jeongguk paused, acting like this was the most obvious answer in the world, “You’re hot.”

I blinked. And blinked again, “Are you serious?” He opened his mouth to respond. “Nope, don’t answer that, Jeon,” I brushed right over his attempt to answer my rhetorical question, “So, do we have a deal or not? If you’re the esteemed Keeper that you clearly think you are, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to block all my shots, should it?”

My words echoed around us. He looked conflicted, but I knew his ego would not let my challenge go, “Deal. Five shots from the penalty mark.”

He flew towards the goal posts, “Looking forward to getting my questions answered, love,” he bellowed back at me.

I mentally flipped him off as I took off after him, clutching my Quaffle.

Sending out a plea to Merlin, Helga and everyone in between, I pulled to a stop at the penalty mark and pondered how I wanted to play this. He obviously thought he would save all five attempts. I spared him a glance and glower as I notice he was slouching on his broom with a lazy smirk, clearly not taking me as a serious threat.

Fine, I would just have to hustle him. He was asking for it at this point.

I got into formation. As much as it would pain me to mess up this shot on purpose, I knew that I had to in order to make my plan work.

Taking off towards the posts, my movement caused Jeongguk to finally move into a somewhat defensive position. I feigned right, doing so in a way too obvious manner. Hurling the Quaffle towards the top hoop, I watched expectantly as he deflected it with just a slight flick of his hand.

“Come on,” Jeongguk laughed, “You can do better than that, jagi.” He flew over to me and when I stretched to take back the Quaffle he now held in his hand, he shifted it out of reach, “Uh-uh, nope. It’s question time. What’s your name?”

How predictable. “It’s (y/n). Now give me the Quaffle.”

“Last name?” Jeongguk kept the Quaffle out of my hands.

“That’s a separate question, Jeon. You never specified that I give you my full name.” It was my turn to smirk as he threw the Quaffle back at me and headed back to the posts mumbling about loopholes and how I must’ve been a Ravenclaw.

I lined back up for the second shot. I had to make this one a little bit better than the last to show that I was trying, but not too much better that he’d be prepared for my final shots.

I ducked down, twisting around to head towards the right post with my full focus on the hoop. I launched the Quaffle. Jeongguk swooped up to catch it in a way that was entirely too elaborate for such a lame throw. He was clearly showing off – an action that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the meaning behind.

Jeongguk made his way over to me, grinning, “Second question, jagi. Full name, please.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n),” I muttered, eyes scanning his face for signs of recognition and hands grabbing the Quaffle away from him.

He looked puzzled, “(y/l/n)? Why does that sound so familiar?”

Before he could think on it further, I pushed his shoulder, “Back to the posts. You got your answer.”

Well, I had attempted to push his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch at my shove. His eyes darted to where my hand now laid on his chest. I removed it faster than a Wronski Feint, trying to ignore the tingles that shot up my arm.

Our eyes connected and his were blazing as his mouth crept into a slow smile, “Like your hands on me.” Before I could formulate a reply, he flew off and I resolved that I would make this next shot as if my life depended on it.

We faced each other. I shifted the Quaffle from hand to hand and took off towards him. I gave him no tells, no feints, nothing. This seemed to throw him off for a split second, but that second was all I needed to send the Quaffle sailing through the bottom hoop.

“What the fuck was that?” Jeongguk yelled as he got all up in my face.

I bit back a smile. “Beginner’s luck?” I quipped, loving how his face had darkened perceptibly, “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can pick up some more tips at your practice.”

Unable to keep my grin in check any longer, I smile widely as he lets out a stream of curses that would make even my old crotchety aunt blush.

We resumed our positions. This time he seemed more alert and watchful. He was getting wary of me, despite my claim that it was just luck. Maybe he knew better after all…

“That won’t happen again, (y/n). Don’t get used to it!” he shouted from the posts.

…Or not.

I took off. Luck be damned. I zigzagged back and forth towards him. Throwing the Quaffle up in the air, I quickly rolled off my broom, sharply grabbing its end and swinging it up to hit the Quaffle mid-air through the center goalpost. A perfectly executed Finbourgh Flick. Regaining my seat on my broom I sailed back to the penalty line and turned back to face Jeongguk.

He looked utterly gobsmacked, “Beginner’s luck? Beginner’s fucking luck? Who the fuck are you?”

I grinned victoriously at his wounded ego, “You know my name, Jeon. Now you can use it at two practices.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n), (y/f/n) (y/l/n)… fucking hell,  you’re the new Hufflepuff captain,” he gawked at me.

“Bingo, Gryff,” I laughed, “Took you long enough.”

“Why did I think you were a bloke? I would have remembered such a—” he cut himself off, “You hustled me! There is no way I’m letting you into my practices now.”

We were nose to nose now as I responded, “A deal’s a deal. I thought you Gryffindors were all about honor.”

His face was thunderous, “And I thought you Hufflepuffs were all about fairness.”

“We are,” I said plainly, “We just don’t take lightly to intimidation. Now come on, we’ve got one round left.”

A range of emotions moved across his face to settle in a heated look that I couldn’t quite decipher, “Fine, jagi,” his molten gaze darted to my mouth, “Give it your best shot.”

Swallowing hard, I shook my head, trying to clear my brain of entirely too inappropriate thoughts of me and Jeongguk. As much as I attempted to refocus on making my final shot, my attention wasn’t fully there.

And I fucked it up. Jeongguk dove to catch my throw mid-air, and he sped towards me triumphantly, “Slipping already? What was that?”

I blushed. He noticed.

“Come on,” he said, “I need a drink and then you need to answer my last question.”

I followed him to the ground, cursing my treacherous body for reacting so obviously. My subconscious battled:

‘He’s a player!’ the imaginary Dumbledore on my right shoulder boomed.

‘Kiss him. Now!’ hissed the fictitious Voldemort from the other side.

However, all thoughts evacuated my brain at the sight of Jeongguk peeling off his shirt and taking a long sip from his water bottle. My traitorous eyes flew over his torso. I took in his defined abs, his chiseled arms and his fucking beautiful phoenix tattoo that spanned the entirety of his left shoulder, left upper back, and a portion of his neck.

Then I noticed his eyes were watching me right back. And they were all to amused to be innocent… “Are you seducing me?”

He spit out his mouthful of water, laughing, “Why? Is this working for you?”

My eyes now resembled slits as I glared at him, “Is that your last question?”

“No!” His response came so fast I jolted back on impulse, “No, it’s not…”

He trailed off as he prowled towards me. I stepped back. He kept coming. I stepped back further.

“Why are you running, jagi?” his words were too soft and too intense for my liking. I took another step back and bumped up against the stands. His grin in response was predatory as he caged me in between the stands and his body, his arms on either side of my head.

“Nowhere to run now, little Hufflepuff…” he dragged a finger along the hollows of my throat. He definitely felt the rapid pounding of my pulse, his eyes darkening to the point that they almost seemed black.

I glared defiantly at him, refusing to be daunted by his size or his words. He smirked, “Your last question: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

I stopped breathing. He waited, a look of uncertainty flickered on his face so briefly I almost thought I’d imagined it.

That little flare of vulnerability – that should not have been as appealing to me as it was – helped me to regain some of my bearings, “And how much do you want to kiss me? I need a scale of reference.”

He smiled crookedly as he leaned in even further, lips brushing against me as he whispered into my neck, “So fucking bad.”

His tongue darted across my skin as he dragged it up towards my ear. Biting it softly, he murmured, “Well?”

Fuck it all.

My hands latched onto his shoulders and his head snapped up. Raising to my tiptoes, I kissed him. He let out a rough groan, sounding like I was killing him. His hands slid down my body to squeeze my ass before hoisting me up. My legs circled his lean hips as his teeth caught my bottom lip in a faint bite. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling slightly. His hips pressed into mine, drawing a moan from my lips. He smiled against my mouth.

I nipped his lip now in retribution, but it seemed to only urge him on. One hand came up to remove my hair-tie, flinging it over his shoulder. I made a noise of protest, but he just kissed me harder.

How the fuck was he holding me up with one hand?

I prided myself on being a pretty thick bitch, and he was over here acting like I weighed nothing. My fingernails slid down his back, raking over the hard muscles and feeling how they flexed and shifted under my touch.

I don’t know how long we spent making out against the stands, but soon enough we heard voices coming from around the corner. Ripping my mouth away from his, I jumped out of his embrace, landing on shaky legs.

His arm wrapped around my waist as he steadies me. He was breathing just as hard as me and I could feel his heartbeat racing. I tugged away from him to retrieve my hair-tie from the ground and put my now wild hair back into its ponytail.

I could feel Jeongguk’s eyes on me all the while. I looked at him. His lips were swollen, his hair was a disheveled mess, his neck was displaying a rather nice hickey that I was sure was mirrored several times over on my own neck. A rare feeling of pride shot through me, and as he opened his mouth to say something, I shook my head and placed a finger over his lips.

“I’ll see you at your practice, Jeon.” I placed a quick kiss on his cheek, grabbed my broom and walked off.

As I strode away, I heard him grumbling under his breath: “Everybody warns you about the Slytherins. Nobody fucking warns you about the Hufflepuffs. Fucking hell…”

I smiled all the way back to the Common Room.

[tomthesoftie]

I love Mob! Tom too much. and I would like to see Reader and Tom as a couple but Tom doesn't know anything about Reader's past because she has lost her memory. and as they are a couple, Reader is Tom's weak point so his enemies try to capture her but she has reflexes to defend herself from before she loses her memory because she was a contract killer, if that's ok with you

at peace

a/n: this was hella darker than i planned, as well as longer... so i didn’t make this fluffy at all, it’s just straight up angst, heavy angst,,, also i wrote this at like 2-4 am so sorry if it gets kind of confusing, i’ll reread it tomorrow... enjoy xx

warnings: heavy angst, wiped memory, major character death, sacrifice

masterlist                     prompt list

You walked into the dark room, senses heightened. A pulsing ringed in your ears as you looked around.

“Hello?” You said, hand gripping on your gun. The sound of someone running didn’t go by you. You snapped your head in the direction it came from. “Who’s there?” Your gun was out of its holster, pointing into the darkness. “Show yourself.”

A figure tried to grab you but you easily dodged their attempt. You punched your target in the gut, causing them to keel over. In their vulnerability, you grabbed their arm and twisted it behind their back. They groaned in pain as you dug your gun into their temple.

“Who do you work for? What was your plan?” You asked, adding more pressure on the gun with each question.

The man grunted and struggled in your grip. He didn’t reply, only kept yelping and mumbling “bitch” or “motherfucker.”

“Answer me!”

“This is our plan,” a deep voice roared behind you.

Then, everything went black.

You shot up in the bed, breath heaving. Sweat was dripping down your forehead. You looked around, but you were still in Tom’s room, snuggled in the blankets of his bed. The space beside you was empty but a dent lingered on the mattress where Tom slept. He had already gone to his office, like always.

What was that dream you just had? Why was it so familiar? And why did it feel so real?

You shrugged off the dream, knowing it couldn’t’ve been real. You haven’t the skill to fight that you had whilst attacking the stranger. You assumed it came from dating Tom and watching action movies. 

You walked out of the mobster’s mansion, into the garden in the backyard. You walked through the vibrant flowers, feeding them with freshwater you’d gotten from the kitchen. Birds chirped happily around you, singing you a welcoming morning song. They’d practically became your friends. You felt like Cinderella, excluding all the labor and step family, whenever you came to the garden. 

You’ve had nothing to do since Tom restricted you from leaving the property. He’d told you someone was coming for you, saying that you were his biggest weakness. He even told you to cut off all communications with friends and family, keeping them off the radar. You couldn’t refuse, besides, you wouldn’t try to anyways.

You skipped and twirled on the dirt trail, humming a quiet tune. You basked in the sunlight and the butterflies fluttered around you. You were nearing the mansion once more. The butterflies and birds had gone away, leaving you in solitude. 

There was silence. It was a familiar silence. Your senses heightened. You could feel that something was off. A deep voice softly spoke to another from behind you. You knew that voice from somewhere, you’ve heard it before. You gripped your metal watering can. Something about your grip felt routine.

You heard the grass rustle and you moved ahead. You knew that if you were closer to the house, you’d be able to get help faster.

Help. Where did all the mobster’s men go? You were the only one outside. There was definitely something wrong.

You felt the warmth a someone’s hand hovering over your shoulder. You gripped it, kicking them in the gut. You turned to see a tall man. Even bent over, he was still taller than you. A wave of fear washed over you, telling you to run but your body moved on its own. You continued to punch the man on the side of his head, hitting a specific point to knock him out. The sound of his head slamming onto the ground didn’t faze you as you prepared to attack the larger, scruffier looking man.

“A failure. Even with your memory wiped he can’t beat you,” the familiar voice said, appearing from the shadows.

The ringing of a gunshot filled your ears. You didn’t flinch or wince. You were still. Something took over you. Memories started flooding back into your mind, one by one. There were images of life before your memory had been taken. Everything fit together perfectly now. You hadn’t met Tom in a coffee shop. He saved you. He saved you from this man standing ahead of you now.

“What do you want from me?” You growled.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you. More precisely, I want to kill you,” he said, pointing the gun at you.

“Was I hired to kill someone that you knew?”

“No, buttercup. You are precious. At least Mr. Tommy thinks you are,” he grinned at you sickly.

“But you wiped my memory before I even knew him,” you stated.

“I didn’t, but he did.”

“What?” You were confused. How did Tom know you before he saved you?

“He watched you everyday for every hour. He found your work inspiring and motivating. Let’s just say he fancied you from the very beginning.”

Without a word, you dashed towards the man, attacking him at every angle. He was able to predict every move and was left completely unharmed when you pulled away.

“Don’t just stand there! Fight back,” you shouted, furious.

He raised his gun, pointing it straight at you. This wasn’t anything new for you. You were trained for these situations.

Building up speed, you ran towards him, swerving so that he couldn’t shoot you. You jumped, climbing to his neck. Your legs wrapped around his neck and elbow knocked his head. He visibly loosened his grip on the gun, and you pounced at the opportunity. 

You stood ahead of the man, safety off, finger ready to pull the trigger.

“I will do it,” you said, a fire burning in your eyes. “You took my memory, my passion away from me. I’m going to avenge myself,” you seethed. He fidgeted, “Hands where I can see them.” His hands shot right up. “I could kill you right now; take back what everything I’ve missed. This can be practice before I go back to the field.”

“Darling?” Your boyfriend’s voice penetrated your glowing red ears. 

You didn’t reply. You were radiating with anger and hatred. You felt powerful, though. The fate of this man’s life was in your hands.

“Y/N/N,” Tom placed a hand on your shoulder, “I can do this.”

You shrugged off his hand, only seeing red. Your breathes were deeper, heaving your chest up and down. Your teeth grinding, you were itching to pull the trigger.

“You deserve to suffer,” you cackled.

The man’s expression was practically begging for you to let him go or make his death fast and painless. 

“Y/N,” Tom spoke up again.

“No! He’s mine to get rid of,” you snapped.

“We need to interrogate him. He’ll give us the answers we need,” the mobster tried.

“What questions? All of them are answered. Aren’t they, Tom?” Your gaze switched to the brunette. “Or are you hiding something from me? Something important?”

The mobster’s men took the burly man captive, leaving you and Tom to sort out your business.

“What d’you mean hiding something from you? I told you the truth about everything.”

“I don’t remember meeting you at a coffee shop,” you glared at him.

“What? Of course we did. How else would I’ve met you? Your memory can’t be trusted, darling. You were wiped, remember?” A stern look rested on his face.

“Oh, how could I forget? But not to worry, it’s back now,” you sneered, “You stalked me?”

“Stalked isn’t the word I’d use, more so observed and protected,” he stated.

You laughed darkly, “I don’t need protecting. I’m a contracted killer, Tom. Get that in your head. Besides, you did a shit job of protecting me, or maybe this was your plan all along. You wanted to take me as your own, so you wiped my memory and told me we were in love.”

“I would never do that, darling. That’s completely absurd,” his brows furrowed, “now please, let’s go back home. We need to pay even closer attention to any intruders.”

You pointed the gun at him, “No. I don’t need your protection. Not anymore, at least.”

“I’d put that down if I were you,” he finally realized you weren’t the same old you anymore; he’d have to put up a fight no matter what.

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me,” you said innocently. You snorted, “Doubt it.”

“I will do it,” he said darkly, the love in his eyes gone.

“Who goes first?” You asked childishly. Before he could reply, you pipped, “Oh, I’ll do it.”

The loud banging of a gunshot rang louder than normal. Time seemed to slow. The birds chirped in a sad tune while the butterflies lined on the branches of your favorite tree. You smiled at them. They replied by gently flapping their wings. You reveled in the sense of peace. You laughed and laughed, remembering your shot, a feeling of victory coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, love!” Tom rushed to your side, clutching your body before it hit the ground. “You’ve gotta stay with me. Fuck, there’s too much blood.”

You smiled lazily at the boy, dropping the gun to the ground. You felt the blood warming your body. Your vision became hazier and everything around you seemed so serene.

“It’s alright, Tommy, no more weaknesses now,” you managed to whisper.

You were numb with love. Everything good in your life rushed into your mind. You felt lighter. Finally, you were freed from your everlasting torture. No one to kill, to run from, to weaken. The birds chirped their welcoming morning song, leading you into the whiteness. You silently thank them, eyes starting to flutter shut.

“I-I lo-love yo--”

Warm. Cold. Peace. Anger. Content. Sad. Two different worlds, two different emotional states. Maybe sacrifice is for the better. 

[queenof-literature]

A Sick Wild Child - Chapter 2

Time was extremely frustrated, and he knew the other boys could tell. The pup’s protege hid an injury from all of them and suffered because of it. An infection was now coursing through his body and while he would make it to the other end, the recovery process would be painful and longer than the average sickness. Time had seen infections such as this one. They caused severe illness, stabbing pain, and horrifying delusions in extreme cases, and Time wasn’t ready to see one of his boys in that state. But he was the unofficial leader of these boys and he would make damn sure they were all alright in the end, no matter what it took.

Time looked at Wild’s face, squinted in pain in his sleep, and sighed. He had sighed a lot with these boys around, mainly in exasperation. Wild was a work in progress but no one minded, they all had their traumas. But Wild couldn’t seem to understand that he had people to care about him deeply all in their own ways. And that saddened all of them.

Time took one last look at Wild’s pained and scarred face, and turned his attention to the boys around their brother-in-arms.

“We’ll stay here for today. It’s not the best decision, but Wild needs rest and is in no condition to travel. We’ll do as Hyrule said and take turns keeping watch over him. This infection is bad and he will need help getting through it. Four I’m trusting you with cooking something edible. Sky, you’re in charge of keeping Hyrule away from the cooking pot.” Time held back a smirk at Hyrule’s noise of indignation. “Twilight you can keep an eye on the cub for a while but I expect you to rest and eat. We do not need another man down if we hope to make any progress tomorrow. Let’s get Wild into his bedroll and we’ll go from there.” As Time said his last sentence, he gently scooped up Wild in his arms, one around his shoulder and the other behind his knees. Wild let out a groan and Time felt a stab of guilt for being part of the reason behind his pain. Wild seemed to instinctively curl further into Time, most likely because Time was wearing his armor which was cooled with the morning breeze. Time smiled slightly at the childlike actions of the young hero.

Once Wild was situated in his arms, he started to head towards Wild’s bedroll, with the rest of the group trailing like lost puppies, all trying to think of something to do to help. ~ Wind was worried. All of his band of heroes felt like the older siblings Wind never had. He resented being treated as the youngest and therefore most delicate, but the group had let up after a small amount of time when they realized how much their babying bothered him sometimes. But Wind appreciated how much they cared for him. He loved all of his brothers and bonded with them over different things. With Wild, he bonded over the sea and coasts of different Hyrules. Wild couldn’t sail like he could, but he did have some funny stories and experiences. Like how he electrocuted himself trying to fish (How?). Wild didn’t talk to anyone at first, so when he finally had a conversation with Wind, although short, Wind was ecstatic. Asking question after question about his journey that Wild patiently answered with his limited usage of his voice at the time. What was his favorite color? Where did he get his tunic? It’s blue like his present from his grandma! Why did he keep his hair that long? Does he just like it that way? Eventually, Warriors had to step in and tell Wind to let Wild breath when he saw the shy teen becoming slightly uncomfortable with the attention, but their relationship was close after that. Wild would always let Wind braid his long hair as he cooked and always listened to his stories about the Great Sea and Tetra and her pirate gang. It was really nice. And now he looked on the brink of death!

When Wind found out from Hyrule that Wild was hiding an infection, Wind was sad. Wild could have told anyone! Wind wouldn’t have made fun of him! He knows what it’s like to be babied and if it bothered Wild that much they could tell Time together! Wind knew he shouldn’t be offended, Wild was just starting to get used to touches and talking for long amounts of time in their small group. He still had a ways to go with teamwork and they all knew that. But Wind just wanted Wild to be okay. And he would be. Wind would make sure of it. Aryll still needed to meet all of her new older brothers, and he had enough knowledge of his grandmother’s soup recipe to assault Wild with bowl after bowl until he felt better. ~ As Sky watched Wild being carried in Time’s arms, he felt disheartened. Wild was one of the last people in Hyrule to deserve to be in the amount of pain he was clearly in. Sky looked at Wild leaning into Time’s hold and smiled, at least slightly, at the sight. It took a team effort, but Sky was the person who first touched Wild without a flinch. When it happened Sky kept calm and smiled on the outside, but on the inside he was screaming with joy. It was a simple hand to the shoulder but it was one of the biggest steps Wild had taken so far. Time had been the first person to touch him out of the group in the beginning. Trying to put his hand on Wild’s shoulder as a welcoming gesture after he joined, only to have the poor teen jump away like he had been burned before Time even made solid contact. He then quietly excused himself and went to the back of the traveling group. Anytime anyone would touch Wild in a friendly manner, he would bolt. It took Sky a while after that to attempt contact, he didn’t want the poor guy to be terrified of him! One night while they were having a conversation around the campfire, the subject of Wild’s past came up. He looked like he was trying not to shake while he told the horrifying story of Guardian lasers, memory loss, and loneliness even before Ganon. He kept looking to Twilight, who would give him encouraging smiles, and Sky assumed Twilight had tried to get Wild to open up a little, and the main story all just spilled out. He could see the look of horror and sympathy on his fellow traveler's faces, and Twilight looked like he wanted to reach out but was scared of Wild’s reaction. So Sky made a terrifying decision. If this didn’t work Wild would most likely flee into the forest for hours so he had to be cautious.

Sky made eye contact first with Wild first, so that it wouldn’t be a surprise, He then slowly lifted his hand, not above his face in case it looked in Wild’s mind he wanted to hit him. And slowly Sky brought his hand down on Wild’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch! Oh, thank Hylia he didn’t flinch! Sky would relive that terrifying moment over and over again if it meant he would get to see the precious ways Wild’s eyes lit up when he too realized he didn’t shield away. ~ Wild was the craziest motherfucker Warriors had ever met. He had seen that kid hop on a Lynal's like a horse and ride it for as long as possible. He had watched him light forests ablaze, ride bears in his underwear and jump off the highest cliffs into the water below. So watching that same feral gremlin being so still except for the occasional wince and whimper was like a blow to the chest. Warriors really enjoyed the company of the kid when he wasn’t being batshit insane… well even then, it was fun to watch. Legend and Warriors may bicker at least 3 times a day, but when it comes to the safety of one of the younglings in their group, they might as well have been telepathic. The second Hyrule asked for potions Legend and Warriors knew what to do. Warriors knew he probably shouldn’t have taken Wild from his mentor when they returned with the potions, but he wasn’t thinking about anything except making sure Wild got better. Although Warriors would never admit it, this was the kid that taught him to properly tame a horse.

He was used to the castle steeds for the most part, or horses that were at least slightly domesticated. But everything in Wild’s Hyrule lived up to its namesake. So when Warriors and Wild were alone one afternoon passing time near a stable, Wild offered to teach him. Warriors wasn’t necessarily scared of the wild horses but he didn’t feel like getting a kick to the chest and end up with a few broken ribs to end the evening. When he told Wild as such, Wild simply laughed and told him to pick one. He picked a horse that looked pink in the sunlight, and Wild ran off to tame it. She was a stubborn one but after many falls to the ground and giving Warriors about five heart attacks, Wild brought him the horse. She was then named Bella and Warriors fell in love with her gentle but stubborn personality. Wild taught him to train a wild horse to stay on the paths around his Hyrule and to adjust them to wearing a saddle. All the while Warriors couldn’t help but marvel at the pyromaniac Hero of Wild being the most gentle being in Hyrule and cooing at the horse to calm it down when she was spooked. It made Warriors feel an odd sense of pride. And from the moment Wild registered Bella in the stable for him to visit whenever they returned, Warriors knew they were brothers. ~ Wild once told Four that he was a calming presence in a group full of chaos, which was funny coming from the God of chaos himself. While Four’s eyes sometimes twitch involuntarily at Hyrule and Wild’s antics, he didn’t try to stop them unless it was terribly dangerous. Four knew Wild was called that for a reason, he needed to be free to an extent. Four enjoyed talking to Wild. They didn’t need to talk about the past, or the present, or the future, they could talk about anything they wanted. It could be somewhere about their adventures or the weapons they liked. Well, Wild’s favorites before they broke on him. That’s one of the things that worried Four the most, Wild breaking weapons, bows, and shields. He could tell from the way Wild fought Guardians that at least one scar was from his shield breaking at the wrong moment, forcing him to take the Guardian’s laser head-on. And Hylia above wasn’t that how he died in the first place? Every time something broke on Wild, it sent a spike of paralyzing fear shooting through his heart. Once a sword broke on him right as he was making a risky move to attack a bokoblin from Warriors' Hyrule. He almost didn’t make it out of that one.

Four decided then and there that he would make something to last. The next time he had access to a forge he spent days crammed within, not letting anyone in except Time and Legend to get their opinions. He wanted it to be one of the best swords he had ever made. Finally, when it was finished, he surprised Wild. He presented it to Wild when he walked with him at the back of the group on a clear day to not overwhelm him with other eyes on him. Wild was doing better at socializing and chatting at the front of the group, but sometimes he got overwhelmed and lipped to the back. The others would check-in by simply asking how he liked his surroundings or something simple, but didn’t crowd him. Four presented the sword a little awkwardly, just now realizing how slightly out of the blue it was. It was a sword that had a sky blue tint to it, similar to the color of Wild’s tunic, and Sky had helped him paint the flower, Wild had called it the Silent Princess, going up along the blade of the sword. Four knew the paint would be chipped but he wanted it to at least be beautiful when it was presented. When Wild saw it, and then realized it was for him, Four could have sworn he saw tears gathering at the corners of Wild’s eyes. Without thinking Wild jumped on Four in a hug and murmured thank you’s over and over until his voice was slightly hoarse. At first, Four didn’t know how to respond. Twilight hugged Wild more and more now that he was getting used to touches, but he had never seen Wild jump into one so enthusiastically. Four gladly returned it after a moment of shock.

Except when Wild didn’t use it, he was worried he had made a mistake. He asked Wild about him not using the sword he made. He assured Wild he wasn’t offended, but he needed to know if something was wrong, like if the balance was wrong. Wild blushed a deep red and stumbled through an explanation, that he was terrified he would break the blade Four made specifically for him like he breaks everything else. Four had to assure him a million times that using it was what it was there for and he could forge another, but Wild still rarely used it. But Four made him promise he would use it if he needed it and Wild agreed. As far as Four knew, it was still in peacefully tucked in his slate. ~ Hyrule didn’t know how he had become the unofficial medic for the team of heroes. He supposed it was because of his healing magic, but still, it was a stressful job when someone was seriously injured. This job got ten times more stressful when it was his best friend, who was more stubborn about “being fine” than even Twilight and Time, which was quite impressive.

Hyrule had bonded sooner with Wild than most of the others except Twilight and Sky. Hyrule believed that as wanderers, they were both just drawn to each other, like they knew what the other had experienced. Both felt at home off of the main roads, running around the forest among the mushrooms and trees. They were mildly responsible at first until Hyrule learned of a beautiful art called Shield Surfing, then it all went downhill, literally. Wild taught Hyrule the perfect hills to use this ancient technique passed down from the Gods themselves. It was hard to find his balance at first, but once he did they spent the afternoon crashing into each other and giggling like madmen. Until Wolfie finally found them and dragged their asses back to camp.

After that, they always snuck away when Hyrule was antsy or Wild was overwhelmed. Sometimes Hyrule would use Wild’s slate to take dumb pictures like when Wild surfed right onto a Lynal. Or other times, they would just lay among the fireflies and look at the stars and talk, or sit in comfortable silence. No matter what, it helped them cope with the changing worlds around them. After all, the stars still existed in every Hyrule. ~ When Wild was better Legend was going to kill him. The idiot had hidden a stab wound from them, and then gone and had let it get infected. Now he was in pain and whimpering and there was nothing Legend could do. Legend had made the promise that he wouldn’t get attached to any of these so-called heroes when they first all came together. Their jobs were dangerous and caring was a liability. But as time went on and more Links joined their little ensemble, or band as Wind called them, that got harder to do. Now Legend had to grudgingly admit that he cared for all of his brothers-in-arms, even Warriors he supposed.

And now one of them had gone and gotten himself sick and infected. It wasn’t fair, Wild didn’t deserve this. But life wasn’t fair, Legend had learned that very quickly. Legend had to admit he really loved this dumb fucking kid. He was fun and loving and had overcome so much. Legend was wary of him at first. He had been completely silent, barley even signing when they first met. But Sky, Twilight, and Hyrule slowly coaxed him out of his shell, and one night they both couldn’t sleep, so they both happened to be at the fire. Wild had been scrolling through his slate, and Legend had asked how much it could hold. So what? Curiosity got the best of him. Wild quietly answered his questions and showed him his armor. Legend and Wild talked for hours about the fascinating things they collected (not hoarded like Warriors would say), and how they were of use. Wild seemed scared of his reaction to all of his jewelry and what he called the Gerudo vai outfit. When Legend asked to see one outside the slate since it seemed so finely made, Wild’s shoulder seemed to lose some tension and he brought out his Sapphire Circlet. The two simply talked for the rest of the night, and some more serious topics were brought out, such as Wild’s fear of crowds and strangers. It was sometimes hard to tell when a Yiga Clan member was ready to jump out and attack him if he didn’t talk to them first. Legend told him vaguely of some adventures and how he didn’t like falling asleep because he didn’t want to dream anymore. He didn’t elaborate far, but Wild understood after the Shrine of Resurrection. After that night the two began to interact more, and enjoy each other's company. And if anyone else saw their bedrolls closer some nights, or Wild shuffling closer to Legend in Castle Town, no one said anything. ~ Once again his cub was suffering, and once again there was nothing Twilight could do. As he watched Time carry his cub away, he felt sick himself. He would never regret taking on Wild as his protege, not for a single second. He loved that kid like he loved the kids in Ordon. He was his little brother and he deserved the world. But all he got was pain. Twilight was frustrated, of course, Wild hid an infected injury from them for Hylia’s sake. Wild was getting better about trust and coming forward with problems, but he still had a hell of a way to go.

Twilight flashed back to a night some time ago. When Twilight was on watch one night, he heard shuffling and quiet murmuring. He turned to see Wild in the midst of what looked to be another nightmare of his death. He was already a wolf, using his heightened senses for hearing monsters, and raced over, careful not to wake anyone. He nudged Wild with his snout as Wild jumped up with a strangled scream. His haunted eyes turned to Twilight and latched onto him and sobbed into his fur within a matter of seconds.

“I-I’m so-sorry Twi I-I-didn’t mean to bother you. B-b-but this one was so so bad Twi.” Wild sobbed as his voice cracked. Twilight took a risk and shifted back to his human form to talk to him. If Wild wanted him in his wolf form he would shift back instantly. Anything to make him feel better. Wild continued to murmur apologies and Twilight's heart broke. Wild could never bother Twilight with his problems. Hylia knows he has far too many for his age. Twilight lifted the cub into his lap and hugged him fiercely as he rocked back and forth. He ran one hand through Wild’s disheveled hair as he whispered soothing words into his ear. Telling him to never be sorry for feeling things. It wasn’t healthy to keep them bottled. Wild’s hands clutched Twilight’s pelt as his sobs slowly turned into soft hiccups.

“Do you need to talk about it?” Twilight whispered as he still rocked Wild. When he received no answer, he looked down as far as he could to find his cub fast asleep, tucked in the crook of Twilight's neck, hands still clutched in his pelt. Twilight let out a small chuckle and stayed like that for the rest of his watch, throwing a rock at Warriors’ leg to wake him up for his turn. Warriors was about to yell at him, but then noticed the small teen in Twilight’s arms. He gave Twilight an understanding smile and took his watch without protest. No one knew who took the picture on Wild’s slate the next day of Twilight and Wild curled up under Time’s cloak, and Wild never had the heart to delete it even if it made him slightly embarrassed. Even if he did, Wind had an extra pictograph. ~ Twilight smiled slightly at the memory. He calmed down slightly when remembering how many people cared for their Wild Child.

[who-ever-said-i-was-nice]

Pt.2. Nothing but an extra

(pls check out pt1. 🙏but only after you read this just in case it’s trash😅)

Warnings: Cursing, mention of death

Word count: To much guys, waaaay to much but like sue me.😅😅😅😆

Y/n went to her dorm after a long day of training. She threw herself on the bed. It had been a week since her arrival at UA and she could not believe how fun it was there. There was not one dull moment. She had also successfully made friends with everyone. Well other then Bakugou and that little perverted grape, Mineta. As she lay there, procrastinating, she herd a faint beep coming from her phone. Interested, she propped herself  forearms and opened her phone. She was surprised to see she had bean added to a group chat, more specifically the bakusquads group chat. She looked over the recent messages.

pikabooooooy: Yoooooo guys I added Y/N to the group!                                         your toxic motherfucker: OMG! That’s awesome! Welcome to the squad Y/N         i’m hard: That’s so manly of you Kami! Btw hi Y/N !                                  Felxtape: Hi!                                                                                                            Boom boom bitch: COULD ALL OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Yup that was the bakusquad for you. She smiled as she typed.

Y/N: Hi guys it’s so nice of you to ad me.                                                                pikabooooooy: of coarse!                                                                                         your toxic motherfucker: Duuuuuuuh!                                                                      your toxic motherfucker:you want to go somewhere? I’m board.                            Y/N: It’s tuesday. Of coarse we want to go out                                                        Flextape:Well said.                                                                                                   pikabooooooy: 🤣🤣 🤣                                                                                            your toxic motherfucker:🤣🤣🤣                                                                                i’m hard: 🤣                                                                                                               Flextape: so where to?                                                                                            your toxic motherfucker: ARCADE!                                                                          pikabooooooy:ARCADE!                                                                                          i’m hard: arcade!                                                                                                      Y/N: Arcade it is.                                                                                                      i’m hard: Bakugou you should come to.                                                                   Boom boom bitch: WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I GO!                                              your toxic motherfucker: yeah yeah. In 10 in front of the school

Y/N quickly jumped out of the bed and rushed to the closet.” i have to wear something nice” an image of Bakugou flashed through her mind. “no why am I thinking of him now.” In the end she ended up wearing shorts, sneakers and a cute pink hoodie that had little bear ears attached. She walked out of the dorms and straight to the front gate. Mina, Sero and Kaminari where already there. They waved and directed their gaze to somewhere behind her. She turned around to witness the “Why the fuck am I going” sight that was displayed by Bakugou. Kirishima ran beside him as Bakugou stomped all the way to her an then stopped short. His gaze lingered on him for a few seconds then stared yelling all types of insult t the rest of the gang.  The trip to the arcade was pretty short. Once they wee there everyone went to their favorite games and started playing. Y/N alternated between watching them play and actually playing with them. At one point Mina called out to her.

“Hey Y/N wanna play DDR. I already kicked Kiris ass.”                                            “No fare you are to good”- Kirishima complained but smiled with all his shark teeth.  (honestly kiri is so cute i had to).                                                                  “ Challenge accepted”- To say they completely hogged the game is an understatement. They just kept playing, because it was always a tie. Mina was honestly surprised that somebody was actually a challenge for her. And for Y/N it was the most fun she had since.....since.... A thousand painful memories flooded her mind. Everything that she has bean through, since her families massacre. The pain came down upon her like an enormous  wave of pain. But she refused to crash. Not. Now.                                                                                                  “Wow Y/N. You beat be.”- Mina looked at her pulling her out of her thoughts. She wicked and added. “Next time I’m going to get you.” The boy have all gathered around. They all decided it was time to go home. As they made their way down one of the allies( obv it was a shortcut), Y/N started to get this weird vibe. Like somebody was watching them. However before she could say anything somebody, that she guessed was a villain stepped out from behind a bush they just passed and  launched a boll of darkness at Bakugou. Y/N immediately blew frost at the ball and froze it. The group all spun around and was shocked to see the ice ball that now trapped the inky  substance.

“You coward!”- Y/N yelled- “ Have you got no shame. Attacking a bunch of kids from behind! You spinless little disappointment”- the villain said nothing instead trowing a bunch of the black stuff at them. Y/N was ready. If she froze all of the balls and then froze the villain as well she might pass out( because she already used this in training today and she needs at least 4 hours after that intense workout,not because her quirk was weak oh no not the case),for a minute or two but the rest will be safe. She did not hesitate. Ina flash she breathed all frost she could muster, decreasing temperature around them to -34 C ( 93.2 F). Then used the fact that the sudden change temporarily blocked the villains ability to move, to run up to him and place her hand firmly and his face freezing him completely. She watched as her frost slowly engulfed the villain turning him blue. The last thing he saw was Bakugou running towards her,with the rest of them at his heels, as he yelled all kinds of things she could not hear at her. His eyes filled with fear.

A few minutes later she woke up with the bakusquad standing over her.                “ What the hell, Y/N! Why did you do that!”- Bakugou instantly yelled, but his tone was not as harsh but more concerned. Y/n smiled at him and witched at the effort it took and the searing pain it caused.                                                           “Because- she said slowly- All of your quirks are are really cool, but not really suited for defense and I didn’t want him to hurt you”- nobody said anything for a long time. Y/N tried o sit up but ended up falling back. To her surprise,in fact to everyone’s surprise Bakugou reached  out and caught her before she could hit the ground . He propped her against the wall and just sat there. She smiled up at him weakly. Suddenly a voice behind the rasped:” Yes go ahead and nurture your sweet little babe. I promise I will be back and I will make her suffer for this”-they looked in the direction of the voice and found a very blue, but very much unfrozen villain. Sadly because she exerted herself in training she did not manage to thoroughly freeze his ass so now here he was. Blue as a smurf and still chanting shit.

“BABE MY ASS! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT SHE IS DIFFERENT FROM ALL THE OTHER EXTRAS!’ - it was useless because the villain had already taken off running. Bakugou didn’t even bother to go anywhere. However his words where as if he ad just stuck a dagger in her heart and then twisted it multiple times. Of coarse. She was nothing butt an extra to him. She hung her head. Bakugou got up and walked away not realizing the impact of his words.      “ Come on”- Kaminari extended a hand and pulled Y/N up. She balanced on him and Kirishima as they made their way back to UA. \

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed! Pt.3 coming shortly.                                          

[the--sad--hatter]

Frozen Heart (Prologue)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  

When Nick Fury finally catches Ex-Shield Agent ‘Black Ice’, The Thief with a Frozen Heart he puts her where she belongs. With The Avengers.

You’re not happy about that decision but you’re the only one who’s kicking up a fuss.

Natasha and Clint are happy to have you back in their lives, Sam Wilson is a big fan, Tony Stark just wants you to keep your hands off his stuff and Steve finds out that not only do you have a connection but you were there for him when nobody else was. 

Bucky Barnes is one of the few people who doesn’t have a connection with you but he’d really really like one. 

                                         CHAPTER ONE

THE KALAHARI DESERT

The Kalahari desert was in Southern Africa so it was quite obviously hot. In fact it was 930 thousands square km of arid, sandy, scorching hell. Or at least it was supposed to be. Nick Fury used his one good eye to take in the perplexing scene in front of him. Smack bang in the middle of the sand dunes was a military style base which according to their intel belonged to a black arms dealer and known human trafficker known as "The Scorpion".

Bad guys having secret bases was hardly unusual however, what was unusual was the fact that this base was covered in at least three inches of ice. Mercenaries who worked for The Scorpion were scattered around, guns raised and alarm on their faces. Fury paid them little attention, they weren't a threat seeing as they were frozen solid like creepy gun wielding statues.

His attention was focused on the battered remains of a tent in the very center of the icy carnage. The tent was barely erect, the front panel frozen in place and giving him a clear view inside to the young woman lying on the frozen ground, two of his medical personnel checking her for signs of life.

They found what they were looking for and related the news to Fury with a sharp nod of affirmation. She was alive. Fury had known she would eventually make a mistake and now she had, he finally had her.

6 HOURS EARLIER

Your head felt full and heavy, your eyes burned and the air around you was so hot you were suffocating. You forced yourself to drag your eyes open, taking in the scene around you. Sand? Tents? You knew what these things were but why they were here was confusing and you couldn’t seem to get your brain to work properly.

Something moved and you looked up, seeing it was a person coming towards you. You knew them, your brain was telling you they were familiar. Your brain was also screaming something else at you, something important but you couldn’t grasp it.

There was a deep gnawing sense in your gut, not a good feeling. You shifted in the seat and tried to move and that was when you realized you couldn’t.

You couldn’t move.

You felt something on your wrists, binding them together. Raw panic started to claw its way through you and you reacted instinctively, reaching down deep inside yourself for the part of you that you’d locked away. You needed to be free, bad things happened when you couldn’t move.

You remembered the blood and you didn’t want to remember that.

You let the primal power inside yourself out and froze the ropes binding you but it all went horribly wrong. You couldn’t reign it in, you couldn’t control it. The last thing you remembered was screaming.

9 DAYS LATER – Avengers Compound, Up-state New York

You had a habit of waking up in unfamiliar places so you weren't too worried at first. It wasn't until you registered the steady beeping of a heart monitor that your brow furrowed in confusion. Your eyes flew open and you tried to sit up, immediately regretting it as the cuffs on either wrist snapped against the metal bed-frame, pulling you back down with a wince of pain.

Panic rippled through you but then a deep chuckle to your right had you turning to face your company, and a growl of displeasure ripped out of your throat as soon as you did. Still, the sight of him calmed your fears and you knew, even if you were cuffed you were safe.

"What the fuck Clint?" You spat out, your voice hoarse from disuse, your hands automatically twisting in the cuffs.

The blonde man sitting on a chair next to the hospital bed you were currently cuffed to smirked at you, unfolding himself ungracefully from the uncomfortable looking plastic chair and leaning over to offer you a cup of water.

You glared at him as he raised it to your lips, tilting it to allow the cool liquid to pour down your throat. The sensation was most welcome, you had no idea how you’d become so thirsty.

Then it hit you, you had no idea how you’d ended up in hospital at all. A quick glance around the room offered no answers. It looked like a standard, albeit well-funded hospital room. The blinds were closed, there were no glass panels on the door to look out of and you and Clint were the only ones in the room.

Panic and uncertainty started to claw at your gut and you looked up at Clint, your expression blank and controlled but he saw the fear and vulnerability in your eyes. He could always see right through you.

“What happened to me?” To anyone else it would have sounded like a demand but Clint knew you well enough to see the plea on your face.

You pulled at the cuffs again and huffed in annoyance. Clint smirked and tapped his ear to let you know he could hear you, you didn’t have to sign.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” He asked you gently.

You frowned, trying to pull up your memories and Clint watched the emotions flit across your face, confusion, pain and then horror.

“Motherfucker.” You whispered.

“That about sums it up... Miss Daniels this time are we?” A deep voice spoke and the door sprung open as Nick Fury walked into the room.

Your expression hardened instantly and Clint's turned apologetic. Fury noted that, the way he noted everything. He glared down at you, trying to intimidate you.

“You froze a 2 mile radius in the desert, killing everyone there instantly. When we found you, you were nearly dead yourself. Lucky for you, we patched you back up and covered up your little mess.” Fury stated.

There was a long pause as he waited for you to say something but you didn’t.

“What, you’re not even going to say thank you?” Fury enquired sarcastically.

“Saying thank you could be taken as an admission of guilt, so no.” You rebutted.

Fury turned to look at Clint who sighed heavily.

“It’s over, you were found in the middle of the scene. We know you’re responsible.” Clint told you.

“We even have a good idea as to why you did it.” Fury informed you and he didn’t miss the way your jaw clenched in response.

“One of the bodies we found on site was First Lieutenant Charles Braxton, your commanding officer. The man who trained you for the past two years and fast tracked you to his special black ops task force. Decorated war hero, husband, father and best friend to Senator Jim Grant. Oh and he was also the criminal known as The Scorpion.” Fury said.

You took in a deep shuddering breath before you spoke, keeping your voice as even as possible.

“If you already know what happened, why bother asking me? What’s your play here Fury?”

“I’m asking because I don’t know what happened but I’ll tell you my theory. You found out Braxton was The Scorpion and he drugged you, kidnapped you and took you to his base. He probably thought he could turn you to his side. He had no idea who you really were though because you would never trust anybody enough to tell them what you were capable of. So when you woke up tied to a chair in the middle of the desert, having just been betrayed and attacked by your supposed mentor and friend you reacting instinctively and tried to freeze the ropes binding you enough to snap them and free yourself. You didn’t account for the drugs in your system or the adrenaline or the emotional turmoil you were facing though because you have always hidden your abilities away rather than learn to use them and instead of freeing yourself you lost control and created a cold snap in the Kalahari that killed everyone around you. How’d I do Miss Daniels?”

“That’s not a theory, that’s exactly what happened and you know it. But you’ve got a second theory lined up where I’m the villain right? Either you rescued a powerful asset or you took down a threat.” You laughed but there was no humour in it.

You knew what was going on. Fury had told you this day was coming and deep down you had always known he was right.

“You’re damn right I do. You killed a lot of people and even if I wanted to I can’t ignore that. I can bring you into the fold and protect you or I can lock you up and throw away the key. Those are the only two choices here. Now I made no secret about wanting you to re-join Shield but last time I asked you told me in no uncertain terms where I could shove that offer. I’m hoping you’ll be smarter this time now that SHIELD isn’t around. So what’s it going to be Miss Daniels, are you finally ready to become an Avenger or are you going to spend the rest of your life in a 4×4 cell?” Fury asked.

You whistled lowly.

“Alright Shaft, I’ll admit it. I was not expecting that.” You said, eyebrows practically disappearing into your hairline.

It was worded like a choice but all three of you knew it wasn’t, not really.

Clint knew you were stubborn and liked to dig your heels in but even you wouldn’t choose life imprisonment just to be spiteful. Fury knew it as well. You looked up at Clint and he braced himself for the anger about to be hurled his way but it never came.

You wanted to be angry at him but you knew it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t done this to you, you had done it to yourself. You had locked your abilities away, pretending you were nothing more than human and it had led to you losing control.

Now you had backed yourself into a corner and the only way out was through Fury, whether it be as an Avenger or a prisoner.

“IF I agree to this ridiculous proposal, I want my record wiped. My real record.” You told him.

“You’re in an awfully precarious position to be making demands. You don’t want to go to prison, If I don’t agree to your terms are you really going to refuse to join The Avengers?” Fury asked you.

You met his eyes and he saw it, you didn’t believe he was going to pass up the opportunity to recruit you but if he called your bluff there was no way you would back down.

He couldn’t comprehend why you were so stubborn but he didn’t have to, he just had to accept it. He nodded his assent and you and Clint both let out a small sigh of relief.

“Welcome to Shield Miss Daniels, Agent Barton here will explain the situation to you regarding the events in the Kalahari Desert and as soon as you’re medically cleared you’ll be introduced to the team who will oversee your official training.” Fury spoke in a crisp and authoritative tone before making his way to the door.

He had gotten what he came for, he wasn’t going to stick around any longer but you spoke up before he could make his exit.

“20 bucks says you regret this before we even reach the end of the month.” You called challengingly.

“I’ll take that bet.” He said without even looking back, letting the door close behind him.

Clint shook his head at you.

“It’s impressive how well he can glare at you with just one eye. Wonder how scary he was when he had both.” You snarked.

“It’s the one eye that makes the glare so effective. And you’ve been unconscious for nine days. The end of the month is tomorrow.” He dead-panned.

You swore and tried to sit up, forgetting about the cuffs and swore again as you were yanked back down. Clint made a strangled noise as he tried not to laugh. He reached over and pushed down on the cuffs, they were pressure locked and didn’t need a key so they popped open quickly and you held your wrists to your chest and rubbed them.

“Nine days?” You asked, confused.

“You were extremely dehydrated and had mild hypothermia. Add that to the drugs Braxton used on you and well… you weren’t in great shape when we found you.” He explained.

There was an edge to his voice, he was holding something back and whatever it was was bothering him. You reached your hand out, palm to the ceiling and waited. He sighed and put his hand in yours

“You get yourself into some stupid shit kid, and she’s not happy about it.” He whispered with an apologetic look on his face.

You shot up in the bed, alarm on your face.

“No no no no no, tell me she doesn’t know!” You begged.

Clint swallowed thickly.

“Fury said he’d tell her when you woke up.” Clint said, getting off the bed and backing into the corner of the room furthest from the door.

You went pale as you glanced franticly around the room like a deer caught in a trap but there was nowhere to hide and you knew it.

“Traitor!” you hissed at Clint as the door swung open and you swallowed heavily before turning to face your fear.

Clint winced under his breath at the expression on Natasha’s face and you felt like you’d been kicked in the chest as you laid eyes on her for the first time in years.

There was nothing you could say in that moment, no way to ask for forgiveness so you just reached out you hand to her, silently begging for something you didn’t deserve. She didn’t hesitate to take it, squeezing your hand reassuringly. And then continuing to squeeze.

“Ow, ow, ow. UNCLE!” You shrieked.

“As soon as your better, we’re playing 60 seconds.” Natasha said with a wicked glint in her eye.

“If you’re so mad, why are you here?” You sighed.

“I came to check on Clint. I would have come to check on you as well but we both know you can take care of yourself can’t you? You don’t need me.” She responded cooly.

Clint could feel the rising tension and he didn’t want a repeat of last time you and Natasha had been in the same room.

“You need rest, you start training as soon as you’re upright and we still need to take an official statement regarding the situation in the Kalahari.” He spoke over whatever biting remark you’d been about to shoot off at Natasha.

Natasha turned her annoyed look onto him, though it was legions softer than what she had directed at you.

“I have to convince the team to actually take her. Just because it’s what Fury wants, doesn’t mean Cap or Tony will be on board.” Natasha said, releasing your hand.

“What are you going to tell them about me?” You asked her.

“For once, the truth.” She informed you.

Clint nodded at her and she turned to leave while you studiously kept your face turned away from the door. Neither you or Natasha could see each other expressions but from his position at your bedside he could see it all, the brief moment of regret and longing you both had before you schooled your expressions expressions.

Clint sighed heavily and wondered what he’d done in a past life that was so bad he deserved to be connected to two such stubborn people. It was only when the door clicked closed you allowed yourself to drop the anger and look at him.

“How bad is it going to be?” You asked nervously and Clint chuckled at your reaction.

“They’re going to eat you alive.” He reassured you.

Tomorrow he would break the news to you that officially Agent Daniels had died in the Kalahari. But that could damn well wait because Clint had missed you, only to get you back in a near death state.  

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Stark, didn’t you get hit by that ice thief a few years ago?” Natasha asked as she walked into the meeting room.

“Four years ago, she broke into the tower and stole an Iron Suit Prototype and left an ice sculpture replica in it’s place.” Tony said with a sour look on his face.

“Yeah, but didn’t she put the suit back the next day? It was on the news.” Sam pointed out.

“Not the point Wilson. She did it to piss me off.” Tony snapped.

“I think it worked.” Wanda coughed.

“Why are you bringing up old wounds Romanov? Nobody’s seen Black Ice for years.” Tony asked exasperatedly.

“Nobody ever saw her, that’s why they called her Black Ice...” Sam added.

“She’s in your medbay.” Natasha said with a smirk.

There was silence.

“The new recruit Fury dropped on my doorstep is the thief who taunted me? And I saved her life?” Tony shrieked.

“Cho saved her life, you just paid Cho to do it.” Sam sniggered, sending Wanda devolving into a fit of giggles.

“Well I’m going to be the one to kill her!” Tony insisted.

“Barton might be a little upset if you do that.” Natasha informed him.

Tony squinted suspiciously at her.

“Why?” Steve was the one to ask.

“Black Ice is a former Shield Agent and yes Tony... Fury, Barton and I knew it was her who stole your suit. She dropped off the radar three years ago, faked her own death after an incident in Moscow. Clint just got her back, he might be annoyed if you go and kill her.”

“You knew?!” Tony was incensed.

“You’re friends with Black Ice?”Wanda asked excitedly.

“Who do you think gave her the name?” Natasha asked her.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

The next morning you were all but tossed out of the hospital bed by Clint who flung a change of clothes at you and told you the bad news.

You didn’t have any close friends, actually any friends at all to mourn your “death” but you still allowed yourself a moment of sadness for the life you were leaving behind. You were shaken out of your moment by a knock on the door and you looked up to see a Natasha stood in front of you.

There was no readable emotion on her face, no indication as to whether she was here to hug you or to kill you. Though that question was quickly answered as with an almost unnoticeable flick of her wrist Natasha sent a knife flying straight at your face.

You whipped your head back just in time, though you were still a fraction of a second too slow and the blade left a slight nick across your left cheek before embedding itself in the wall behind where your head had previously been.

“Reaction time is a little slow but not terrible. You haven't been keeping up with your training. Keep the knife, consider it gift” Natasha told you with a smirk.

You glared at Natasha with wide eyes as she turned and sauntered away.

“Oh and welcome back to the land of the living сестренка.” Natasha called over her shoulder.

You scowled as you signed the medical discharge papers, almost signing Daniels out of habit. It would take some getting used to being a Barton again.

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

So this is going to be my next fic series after Name Calling IF you guys like it. If not, I can scrap it and work on something else. It’s kinda up to you lovely people, and I won’t be offended if this isn’t a hit. 

[iscariotsdeputy]

Analyzing Staci Pratt’s Character Arc

    Julian Bailey once said, on February 13th, 2019:  “Yeah, Staci has a real character “arc” and he’s way more complex than he lets on at the beginning…”. And I, Sam, your local Staci Pratt enthusiast, am here to explain why Staci is a deeper character than everyone’s favorite douchebag son. Now, you may look at me and say, “Sam, you dumbass, it simply ain’t that deep.”, to which I say you are completely valid, but you can and should bear with me here for a second. And yeah, you can reblog this if you wish.

    Far Cry 5 opens in the small, backwoods locale of Hope County, a completely fictional place in Montana that’s actually inspired by southern Montana. Early on, it’s set up that there’s this heavily armed religious group that has taken roots in Hope County. And guess what? The cops are doing absolutely nothing about it. That is, until one fateful 2:37 AM. The Hope County Sheriff’s Department and one U.S. Marshal have decided to finally arrest Joseph Seed on the suspicion of kidnapping with the intent to harm.

    Now, as you sit in the back of the chopper with Sheriff Earl Whitehorse and U.S. Marshal Cameron Burke, two Deputies sit up front, flying the ‘copter and pressing buttons like it’s nobody’s business. Their names are Joey Hudson and Staci Pratt, for the intents and purposes of this post, I will be focusing on Staci Pratt.

    Not much is known about Staci Pratt pre-game, except for the fact that an NPC says “Deputy Pratt always came off as a bit of a douchebag, but that doesn’t mean he deserves what Jacob’s doin’ to him”. Throughout the first cutscene, you can occasionally hear some wise cracks from Staci, and although less noticeable, Staci does mess around with Joey up front, offering her his flask and whatnot. Now, Staci’s wise cracks come in the form of hazing the Rookie Deputy (“Maybe we shoulda brought Nancy along with us instead of the Probie. These Peggies wouldn’t fuck with her”) or disrespecting Joseph Seed (“Crazy motherfucker”).

    If you think that Staci calling Joseph crazy is the only time Staci is disrespectful to his elders, you’d be incredibly wrong. Now, it’s not exactly “disrespectful”, but it shows a moment of doubt that Staci has towards the orders of Sheriff Whitehorse. When Whitehorse tells Staci to set down the helicopter, Staci does nothing at first. He just keeps the helicopter completely still and doesn’t move it. He’s completely silent too. Staci does nothing until Whitehorse says “Pratt” and Staci quickly says “Roger that”, like he was snapped out of a thought. So, this is where we set up Staci’s character arc:

    Confusion. Staci’s character arc is moral confusion and also confusion of one’s identity. As of right now, let me quickly state who Staci is: A guy who’s a bit of a douchebag and he doesn’t believe in a word that Joseph says.

    Let’s fast forward to when the Rook eventually goes to the Whitetail Mountains. When you reach these mountains, more often than not, you will hear THIS BROADCAST before you see Staci again. Now, you may say, “Sam, he could’ve just been reading this”. And yeah, definitely, he was reading. The way he stumbles through it and says it so blankly is a very obvious way to say “Yup, that’s false emotion”. So, if I were to put it on a timeline, this had to have been recorded when Staci was first taken in. Maybe within the first week or so of his capture. But, something I didn’t realize at first when I listened to it. Basically, the whole time, it sounds rehearsed. It sounds faked. It sounds like Staci had a gun to his head. But then get to the end. Around 1:10. Please listen close to when Staci says the phrase “Train, Kill, Sacrifice in the name of The Father and The Project at Eden’s Gate”. You hear him, right? Suddenly, he lights up. Suddenly his voice is more gruff, more emotional, more angry. Those cue words, that phrase, and Staci is there again. No stammer. No blank slate. Those are words that Staci believes in.

    So, no matter if he doesn’t believe in Joseph normally, as soon as he hits those cue words, his heart is into whatever’s conditioned along with it.

    While you’re running around the Whitetails, you’ll hear some NPCs talk about Staci.

My favorite thing is that a few people say “Friends might not be friends after Jacob’s done with ‘em.”, “He might never come out of it. The very least he’ll never be the same guy he was before. Not ever.”, “There’s not much of the old Deputy Pratt left. Jacob made sure of it.”

    Alright folks, now we’re at the first time you see Staci in person again. Actually, it’s entirely possible from this clip that Staci is the one who carried your sorry butt to get conditioned. Now, it’s harder to notice because Jacob Seed may believe in culling the weak, but he doesn’t believe in proper lighting: Staci has scars. Staci is roughed up. He went from THIS to THIS. That is the reverse of a glow up. That’s a blow up. In this scene, Staci gets one line: “You shouldn’t’ve come for me. You should’ve run.” Also, the minute Jacob shows up, Staci literally runs to get in his spot. He runs to the back, gets out of Jacob’s way, and just stands there. So, in the time that Jacob has gotten his hands on Staci, our douchebag Deputy has suffered some major wounds to his pride. Believes both Rook and Him were both better off by leaving Staci in the mountains.

    BUT HEY HE GETS MORE LINES IN THE CONDITIONING SEQUENCES HA HA GOD I’M IN PAIN.

    Hey, hello there, welcome to the Time Break (Part I). What’s the Time Break, you ask? This is where I shamelessly yell about Staci’s voice lines because some of them don’t really fit into a specific point in time (You hear them after you free Stace, but these are just like “hey fun fact Jacob eats a kitkat bar the wrong way i wanna die” reminiscing things) , but they really just reveal facts about Staci’s mental state. Hint: It’s not good.

“Jacob took me on one of his hunts. Only we weren’t huntin’ any animals. A couple of prisoners had escaped. They didn’t get far.” FROM THIS AUDIO

Can I point out how at the end of this line, Staci laughs a lil bit? His voice lightens like he’s amused.

Also, Jacob took Staci on a hunt. It sounds like it was just the two of them hunting people down. I feel like it was a way to “”””reward”””” Staci and get him more chill with pulling the trigger on helpless prisoners.

“I had to help round up the wolves. Y’know, to be made into Judges. They were so scared. So scared.” SAME AUDIO AS ABOVE

This is fairly self explanatory, but yeah, this poor man had to round up scared, whining wolves and lead them to their deaths, essentially.

“I had a dream once that Jacob took me on a hunt. We shot some deer and he asked me to skin ‘em. As I was cuttin’ them open, they changed. It wasn’t deer. I...I don’t think it was a dream.” THIS AUDIO

STACI PRATT HAS SKINNED A HUMAN BEING A HUMAN PERSON A REAL ASS PERSON NOT A DREAM LITERALLY SKINNED A PERSON ALIVE Okay, in all seriousness, I believe Staci was going through his conditioning, which is why they changed. Or, worse, Staci hallucinated it in order to justify his behavior. Either way, Jacob Seed stood and watched as Staci skinned somebody alive under the pretense that he was just skinning a deer.

Finally, here’s Staci singing Only You   

    Hey there, buddy. Welcome back from The Time Break. Now, let’s keep moving right along through Staci Pratt’s suffering to the next cutscene, again, this is a one line scene. It’s when Joseph comes to speak with Rook about sacrifices and Rook wakes up to hear Staci “They want you to be strong. One of you will be strong.” And once again, Staci finds himself interrupted by Jacob and as soon as Jacob gets there, Staci moves to stand right in Jacob’s line of sight. First he stands on the right of Jacob, but when Jacob turns, Staci rushes to be on Jacob’s left so Jacob can still see him.

    Now, let’s go to the next scene where Staci has no lines, but he’s there so let me analyze those body expressions and movements. Pardon my French, but Staci is doing his fucking best here. Like, poor dude has to rush to give Rook their mystery meat and then has to shave Jacob’s beard, then washes Jacob’s hands, and then hands the canteen over to Jacob. The most interesting thing here is the whole shaving nonsense because Staci has a literal knife to Jacob’s throat. Staci has a knife, right there, and he doesn’t slit Jacob’s throat open. He doesn’t kill Jacob, even though he has a very good opportunity. Why? The poor bastard was conditioned to believe that without Jacob, he had no purpose. Jacob is the leader. Jacob is strong. Staci can’t do it. Staci is subservient to Jacob in every way. So no, Staci isn’t going to kill Jacob. Staci is lost without Jacob.

    Are you guys ready to commit treason? STACI SURE IS. BUT FUN FACT, I WHOLEHEARTEDLY DON’T THINK STACI THOUGHT OF IT HIMSELF. Let me run through the whole scenario real quick. Staci sneaks out, avoids the guards, goes to Rook, frees Rook, tries to warn Rook about their conditioning, and then shoves Rook onto the truck to free them. Staci thinks he’s being a hero. Staci thinks he’s doing something on his own, but he’s not. Now, why do I think Staci didn’t think of this himself? Because Staci said it himself.

    He (Jacob) gets in your head.

    Now, please tell me, how Staci would evade capture? He yelled at another prisoner that they weren’t strong. He alerted the Judges there because they started barking when Staci freed Rook. Also, it’s funny how there are no guards out there in the cage area. Nobody watching the prisoners. And how there were no guards that caught Staci and Rook on the way up to Jacob’s office. And that Jacob wasn’t in his office. And that there is a bag of weapons there that anyone would have noticed. Jacob sees everything, we learned this early on. He has security cameras everywhere, just like Eli. Anything Staci did, Jacob or a guard would have noticed. And yet, the alarm finally sounds off just as Rook is about freed. And when you wake up, the truck is all abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Staci was set up. Jacob orchestrated that and let Staci run through the motions.

    It was a test. And Staci failed. Staci was weak and traitorous. And we all know what happens to our traitor…

    He’s strapped to a chair. He’s publicly humiliated on TV. He’s strapped to a chair in a cold, wet, dark bunker. He is left to die. He will starve and dehydrate. He will rot. When he passes, his body will get thrown to the wolves. And the video ends with Staci crying to help. And guess what?

    When you find Staci again. It turns out that he has been listening to that video for days, it has to be less than 7 because he would have dehydrated by then, most definitely. Imagine if you were in his spot. Imagine if you were left to die and all you got to listen to was a video of you being called weak and traitorous, and then you crying for help and crying for Jacob to not leave you there. It’s awful. It’s horrendous. And it leads to a major change in Staci Pratt.

    When you meet again, Staci says the line, “Rook, are you real?”. This indicates that Staci had been sitting down there, having hallucinations about Rook and other people. When you free him, he falls to the ground. When he gets up, he says that he was weak. He says that maybe he deserved to die, to starve, to be stuck down there. Then, he takes a sledgehammer, and surprisingly after starvation and dehydration, through that sheer adrenaline and strength, he takes that hammer and smashes everything in sight. Then he takes a gun, says he’s strong and that the people who made him strong are now weak. And that they must be culled.

    WOW THAT’S BAD, HUH?

    YOU KNOW WHAT THIS CALLS FOR?

    Welcome to Time Break (Part II). Now, we’re going to see some of Staci’s lines that happen after you free him and get him to the Wolf’s Den.

“We could’ve died. We could’ve died. And maybe..Maybe I deserved--NO, NO, STOP STOP! The weak! The weak must be culled!”

“Maybe we didn’t survive that crash. Maybe all this is purgatory. We have to atone for all the shit we’ve done before we can leave this place. We have to suffer before God will grant us salvation.”

“Train, hunt, kill, sacrifice.”

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“Jacob. His experiments. He takes us. Owns us. Speaks to us. He hears us.” THIS AND ALL ABOVE IT IS THIS AUDIO

“He was right! He was right! I knew it! I fucking knew it! Shit, Jesus, help us…”

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” 

“Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.” (This happens when the bombs go off)

“It’s just gonna get harder. They want an offering. A Sacrifice.”

“I’m trying. I’m trying my best, you have to know that.”

“The whole time I was locked in that room I just kept thinkin’ about how I got here. Y’know why I became a cop…To get laid! That was it! It was a whim! And then after a while I tried to convince myself that I did it for the “greater good”. To help people. But I can’t. I know that now. Jacob taught me that.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I don’t even know who I am.”

“I...I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now. Protect and serve? Out here? There’s no law anymore, Rook. Look around! Someone shoulda been here by now! Nobody gives a shit about what’s happenin’ here. We’re on our own. Survival of the fittest. The weak and the strong.”   ALL OF THAT WAS THIS AUDIO

If you resuscitate Staci, he says “You’re like my Guardian Angel!” 

Alternatively, if Staci’s in pain, he’ll beg The Father to stop his pain.

“This place...do you know what it is? A protector from what’s to come. But it isn’t inevitable. He said to me that you could stop it. But only you, Rook...Only you...But if you don’t...if you don’t listen...if you don’t...We’re all gonna die. Either down here or up there. It won’t matter. We can’t stop it...The Father...He sees what’s coming...He’s right…” FROM HERE

“Nobody’s gonna take anything from me again. Ever.”

“You see that, Jacob?! Who’s weak now?!”

“I’m alive, but I’m weak...weak. Need to be strong. We are meat. We are all meat.”

Also here are four fun videos of what happens when you initiate combat with Staci Pratt: ONE    TWO   THREE   FOUR

    Now that we’re free from the final Time Break, let’s talk about the end of the game. First things first, let's talk about the common factor between the two endings, the confrontation with Joseph. This is when Rook turns and sees Joey and Staci forced down on their knees with guns to their heads. Joseph says that you can go in peace and there’s this exchange between Joey and Staci Joey: Go in peace? You’re fucking insane. Staci: Is he? We never should’ve been here in the first place.

    Then, in the Resist Ending, as he sits in the back of the car, Staci screams a Hail Mary and then he yells about how Jospeh was right. How Joseph was fucking right. Also, Staci is sitting right by Joseph as he screams that all, so you know Joseph hears him.

    Now, to the Walk Away Ending, as soon as they’re let go, Staci is shaking as he gets up and has his hands up to show he isn’t a threat. His back is hunched and he makes himself look small and he’s literally shaking like a leaf. Joey and Earl fight and he rushes to get in the truck. Staci sits in the back with his hands in his lap and staring at the floor. He stays silent until Whitehorse brings up coming back and fighting again. And all he does is say “No. No way. I’m not gonna be a part of this. You heard what he said.”

    I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, I really do, but I’ve realized that I seriously need to come to a conclusion here. So, let’s go back to where this all began. We started with Staci Pratt, the douchebag cop who had wiseass remarks to every situation. Though Far Cry 5 follows the arc of a young, Rookie cop who faces something they were never prepared for, there is an arc to Staci Pratt’s character and it’s a path of confusion and not knowing who he is or where he belongs anymore.

    One of the first things Staci does is insult Joseph, and by the end of this story, Staci Pratt believes in Joseph Seed and the Project and culling the weak. Staci’s character arc is so much breaking and breaking and breaking and then being rebuilt in the visage of the Project. In an essence, Staci develops and destroys himself at the same time. Pardon me for a pun, but Staci Pratt is a far cry of the man he once was. As Whitehorse and Joey still fight for the Resistance and loathe Joseph, the same cannot be said with Staci.

    He believes is Joseph, but all of his friends are in the Resistance. He is every single one of Jacob’s lessons, beliefs, manifestos, plans, all shoved into one person. He is a living legacy of the man who orchestrated Eli’s murder and yet he’s sitting there in the Wolf’s Den. And yet, he was treated like shit in the Mountains. He was treated as lesser. Even, throughout this all, Staci’s belonging is a topic that really has no proper place.

    When Jacob Seed said that Staci would die in the bunker, he wasn’t wrong.

    The old Staci Pratt died a long time ago, and now there’s a new man living in his place.

[theacerbicprince]

Answering Harry Potter Tag Questions

So my darling @xweofmanyfaces answered this in video form but I don’t do videos because I don’t know how to edit and stuff. Really, all I can do is type and prance so I’m going to type out my answers to these questions. It may be long, I apologise in advance. If there are any other questions you’d like to ask me that I haven’t answered then let me know. 

What house are you in?

I am a Gryffindor which surprised me initially but if I think about it makes a lot of sense because I am very loyal to the people I care about and I don’t think I’m brave but I know people who would disagree with me just based on the challenges in my life. 

What is your Patronus?

My patronus is a white stallion according to pottermore. I read up on what it meant on the lexicon and it was amazing how similar it was to me. 

What is your wand?

My wand, as on pottermore, is Pear wood with phoenix tail feather, 13 and 3 quarter inches, slightly yielding flexibility. According to pottermore, there has never been a recorded instance of a pear wood in possession of a dark witch or wizard. 

Favorite book?

I liked the Deathly Hallows because it gave us so much and it wasn’t as badly paced as some of the other books were and it moved me emotionally, very much so and it revealed so much of my darling boy. 

Least favorite book?

Probably the Chamber of Secrets if I’m honest. 

Favorite movie?

From an aesthetic point of view, the Half Blood Prince. Overall favourite movie in terms of soundtrack is the Deathly Hallows Part 2 but overall, tying everything together would probably have to go to Order of the Phoenix. I live for Imelda Staunton in that movie and ugh, just that bit where Alan manages to inject that much snark and sass and condescension into the one word ‘obviously’. 

Least favorite movie?

Goblet of Fire, I think a lot of people might agree with me on that one, it’s not universally that well received. 

Is there a movie you preferred over the book?

The Chamber of Secrets movie is better than the book for me. I actually feel very emotional about the ending of that movie probably because of Chris Columbus to be honest and some of the shots are amazing and the music too, John Williams excellent. 

Favorite quote?

I love this so, so fucking much. 

“It is good to see that six years of magical education haven’t been wasted on you Potter; ghosts are transparent.” 

Favorite character?

Severus without a shadow of a doubt. He’s my boy even when he’s being a total jackass and he just brings so much joy to me because he makes me laugh so much. 

Least favorite character?

Ron. I hate getting on the ship in that sense but yeah, I don’t like Ron as a character although a lot of that comes from the fact that I just don’t see him ending up with someone like Hermione. This does not mean I don’t want to write with Ron because Molly loves all of her children regardless of their flaws but I don’t personally like him. I like him even less in the movies because they took away some of his kinder, more human moments and he was like 95% jackass. 

Favorite professor?

Minerva is an absolute boss, always, that never changes. She teaches the kids so much and she’s so supportive but at the same time she doesn’t take any shit. I will always have to defer to my home boy though because he’s an amazing teacher even though he is a giant asshole about it. He is multi talented because he can teach more than the one subject and he can teach them well. He fully understands his subjects and he takes them both so seriously, more seriously than his other professors I would say. He doesn’t express it the right way but he cares a lot about the welfare of the students. There’s a reason he loses his shit when Neville fucks up so badly at Potions that Severus is practically apoplectic, because the boy is dangerous and he doesn’t want to be responsible for a death or severe disfigurement. 

Favorite villan?

Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s a great villain in that she is so unstable and you don’t know what she’s going to be doing next really. She is the sort of villain where you are constantly on edge around her and we actually get to see her in action properly and we get a full, real sense of why she’s so terrifying. A lot of that was missing as far as it went for Voldemort because we didn’t get to see much of him or how he earned his reputation. 

Favorite weasley?

Molly, she is my girl but she is also super strong, super loving and she has dealt with so much in her life and so deals with it all with barely any complaint. She is so giving to everyone, she takes everyone in and is so welcoming and approachable and it’s not something that she thinks about doing, it’s just natural to her. 

Favorite marauder?

Remus because he isn’t a giant douche. Remus is also the one that seems more understandable to me. I think we’ve all been there at one point or another where we have seen an injustice and we have to decide what we are going to about it. He didn’t actually want to kill anyone, he didn’t take a savage delight or really any delight in what was going on and he’s apologetic about it. He doesn’t come up with excuses for his actions or lack of actions, he accepts the responsibility of what he’s done. 

Are there any characters you felt differently about in the movies versus the books?

Gilderoy Lockhart and that is just because Kenneth Branagh is just amazing, he is a stunning actor and I admire him greatly as a professional and he made Lockhart far more likeable.I actually enjoyed watching him in the movie whereas I hated reading him in the books. 

Which character do you think you’d have the closest relationship with?

Probably Molly if I’m being honest, we are quite similar in some senses. Severus would struggle to tolerate me but I think he still would put up with me. 

Which class would be your favorite?

I am a huge history fan so yeah, History of Magic would probably be quite high up on my list. I think I’d like DADA too, combat you know. 

What would your boggart be?

My daughter (from my dreams) desperately wanting my attention because she needs me but I’m too out of it to be able to help her, my darling Penny with my health conditions. Oddly specific I know but it is a massive fear. 

What position would you play in Quiddich?

Seeker probably, I have good eyesight and good hearing too. 

Would you be a pure-blood, half-blood or muggle born?

I would be half blood, just makes sense for me. My mother is Scottish and my father is English so it makes sense that I’d be half and half magically. 

What job would you want to have after leaving Hogwarts?

It really depends on what my specialisation would be to be honest. I might teach for a while, I really enjoyed being a tutor (which was my job up until September last year). 

Which of the Deathly Hallows would you choose?

The invisibility cloak. I don’t need great power in my life and my loved ones would drive me insane because I would want to see them so often, to touch them and I couldn’t. The invisibility cloak is remarkably useful. 

Which spell would be the most useful to learn?

A healing spell of some sort, always useful. 

Do you have any unpopular opinions about the series?

MY HOME BOY IS A GOOD MAN! It is not creepy that he was in love with Lily for that whole length of time. Stop having a go at my man, he’s not a creeper. 

Either or/if, would you rather:

Wash Snape’s hair, or listen to Lockhart ranting about himself for a day?

Do you even have to ask that question? I would massage that scalp aaaall day.   

Duel an elated Bellatrix, or an angry Molly?

Angry Molly would be terrifying but an elated Bellatrix is guaranteed to torture me to the point that I am desperately crying out to die. 

Travel to Hogwarts via Hogwarts Express, or a flying car?

Hogwarts Express, you can get up and walk around the train, stretch the legs which is good for me because of my nerve damage and pains in my hips etc. 

Kiss Voldemort or give Umbridge a bubble bath?

Kiss Voldemort, I do not want to see Umbridge naked. 

Ride a Hippogriff or ride a Firebolt?

Probably the Hippogriff, I think it’d be far more comfortable and I could actually talk to the Hipprogriff and not feel like a lunatic. Who talks to their broomstick eh?

Hallows Or Horcruxes?

The horcruxes are a fascinating and interesting concept especially when you look into the whole process and splitting the soul. Is the soul split every time that you kill? 

If you could own one of the three Hallows, which one would it be and why?

Invisibility cloak, this was addressed earlier. 

If you could bring one character back to life, who would it be?

This motherfucking question right here. I’ve been thinking about this question for hours, honest to Lords hours. You’d think I would want to bring Severus back to life but there is one person in particular who comes to mind because it’s just so tragic and I would want to change it so badly and that is Tonks. I want Teddy to grow up with his mother and Andromeda to not have to deal with the loss of her daughter as well as her husband. 

[militant-holy-knight]

Joker Makes Dumb Journalists Seethe Beyond Control

It’s OK that Todd Phillips wanted to make a Batman movie that looked like Taxi Driver! That’s a fun thing to do in the context of a comic book story. The result was exactly as entertaining and dumb as you might expect. What the result was not was one of the 11, or 21, or 51 best pictures of the year. To reward it as such is, well, not smart. From its dumb yellow title card to its antihero’s dumb delusions of grandeur to its dumb absolute belief in its own transgressiveness, Joker is just as stupid as can be. It is a movie designed to seem impressive to anyone without much of an understanding of film history, who’s maybe seen clips from Taxi Driver online. It’s a movie designed for people who must rush to get on Twitter to see if everyone catches the reference. Joker is a movie for people who think that blood spatter and dwarf jokes are daring and provocative, when in fact they are extremely tired. Joker is a movie for people who think that movies about class riots demonstrate actual class consciousness by a Hollywood studio, when in fact the movie is porn for viewers who get off on squalor. Joker is a movie for people who think that starving yourself, being a pain to your co-workers, and allegedly kicking a dumpster so hard you dislocate your knee are evidence of good acting. In fact, they are not. Let’s take a moment to note the music cues in Joker. “White Room”? Dumb. “Rock and Roll Part 2”? No more aggressively inane song has ever been recorded. “Smile,” as in “though your heart is aching”? Come on. “Send in the Clowns”? In case you didn’t catch the reference—

The film’s many fake outs? Dumb, dumb, dumb. Are viewers seriously meant to believe that Arthur’s cute and funny neighbor, played by Zazie Beetz, actually enjoys his stand-up routine and welcomes him into her life? We’d have to be idiots to think so. Or are we meant to believe that the filmmakers intended, all along, for us to know we’re watching Arthur’s delusions? Well, that would be even dumber, considering how big the movie plays its dramatic Tyler Durden–esque reveal that actually she was never there. Either way, it was annoying way back when A Beautiful Mind won Best Picture for recycling this trick. Eighteen years later, if your movie shares its big twist with Last Christmas, it is neither smart nor Best Picture material. Joker is 122 minutes long, yet somehow contains 183 minutes of Joaquin Phoenix laughing uncontrollably. Joker poses as a movie interested in exploring the anomie and alienation of contemporary manhood, the rage of the underclass, the fragile equilibrium of our cities. Joker is not actually interested in any of those things. It is interested in shocks and thrills, in valorizing its antihero’s put-upon haplessness, in exploiting potent and crucial protest messages for the lulz. Above all, Joker is committed to grittiness. It is so gritty. Its Latino youths tormenting poor Arthur Fleck? Gritty. Its bums gathered around fires? Gritty. Its culminating riot, with citizens in clown masks smashing car windows and shooting Bruce Wayne’s parents? So gritty you can taste the grit, in your mouth, getting in between your teeth.

This, in the end, is what I find stupidest of all about Joker: how convinced the movie seems that it’s daring, that it’s showing us something we’ve never seen before. There’s a scene in Joker when Arthur Fleck sneaks into a fancy benefit screening of Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times. Todd Phillips trains the camera on the movie screen as the Little Tramp roller-skates closer and closer to a steep drop. Get it?! Phillips is asking, nudging us in the ribs. We, too, are unafraid to skate close to the edge. In fact, Joker is merely the fourth-best movie to feature this extremely popular cartoon villain. It is a comic book movie whose star thinks he is too good for comic book movies. It is a Scorsese homage that the actual Martin Scorsese thinks is “fine.” It is a profoundly, gloriously dumb movie that somehow has made its way into serious consideration as the best of the year. But it ends here, folks. Academy members, heed my plea: If you want to reward a movie about the rage of the underclass, vote for Parasite. If you want to reward a movie that boldly mixes the dark and the light, vote for Jojo Rabbit. If you want to reward a movie for being indebted to the work of Martin Scorsese, vote for The Irishman! But do not vote for Joker. It is not magnificent, sublime, monumental, or extraordinary. It is dumb.

Holy shit, this article looks like satire. He's not making a single argument, wtf is this shit? He's just straight up pointing at details and calling them dumb without explaining why, hell the motherfucker even called the music choices "dumb".

[creedslove]

Another Chance

Sabretooth x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After losing his mate, Victor accepts helping the X-Men in their audacious plan. Once they are successful, how will he convince her they were meant to be together?

Warnings: angst maybe? Mentions of smut

A/N: Oh gosh, those two!

If someone ever told Charles Xavier he would dedicate his life to the mutant cause, gather a team to fight dangerous threats to mankind, protect human beings even when they feared and hated them, to the point of creating a “cure” for what they thought it was a disease, he might have believed that. But, if someone ever told him he would have to play marriage counselor to a 200 year old mutant and his non believer ex girlfriend, he would probably just accuse them of insanity, however, that was exactly what was going on.

One of Charles’ advantages of being known as a serious man was that his focused face could perfectly hide his boredom. He had lost track of how long he had a hysterical Sabretooth in his office while a young woman accused him of kissing her against her will.

“For the millionth time: you are my fucking mate!” Victor roared at the stubborn young mutant who just rolled her eyes

“For the millionth time” she imitated his words “I don't know you, I have no idea what a “mate” is and I don't want you touching me, you crazy freak”

Logan had to hold back his chuckle, he could smell his brother's hurt and anger, but it was funny to watch him taking so much crap from a young girl like that. He saw, however, how annoyed Charles was and he couldn't blame the old mutant; that argument should have been over at least a couple of hours ago, but Victor of course, had to be a pushy motherfucker as always. It was obvious Y/N was uncomfortable, she had no recollection of any of things Creed claimed; it didn't matter if they were true or not, he couldn't just expect her to ignore all that and jump into his arms.

“ENOUGH!”

Charles raised his voice before he could hear any other grunt coming from Victor, he was fed up and didn't want to get in the middle of that. They were lucky enough their plan was successful for everybody, he had to remind the wild feral mutant that the main idea was to save everyone, and not only Y/N, some things were just not his problem after all.

“Victor, Y/N. I am deeply sorry to hear about your… situation” he sighed “but this is something that has to do with the two of you only, I'm afraid any kind of interference could be harmful to you.”

“But Professor, you can't just allow Sabretooth walking around and claiming to everybody I belong to him”

“It’s Victor, frail, that's my fucking name” He groaned at her, it just disturbed hearing his kitten calling him like that. “and you are mine, what part of I went back in time just to fucking save your ungrateful cute ass you didn't understand?”

“Stop this nonsense, Creed, it is just a creepy lie, I don't know what are your plans but you are not getting anything from me”

Xavier interrupted the argument again using his mutation to shut the window close, so the loud noise dragged their attention to himself again.

“Y/N I understand your confusion, and I am here to help you out with any questions you may have, but we must end up this conversation here” he got a weak nod from the girl and then turned to Victor “and you Mr. Creed, are welcome to stay with us as long as you no longer harass Y/N.”

The three of them left Xavier's office in silence. The smell of tension and anger in the air was just nauseous, it was beyond Logan how his brother would solve the problem. He could see Victor glancing at Y/N in a predatory way, it was quite disturbing to see it, he had an idea of how unsettled she was feeling now.

“Y/N, you don't need to show up for any trainings this week, got it?” Logan let her know, that would only bring them more problems. He saw her nodding as Victor clenched his jaw. Without controlling his impulse, he tightened the grip around her arm again, making her yelp in pain at the feel of his claws threatening to break the skin.

“Don't you think this is over, Y/N. Not even for a second” Victor’s words were predatory, he was more than serious.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do? Abduct me? Chain me barefoot to you bed frame and fuck me against my will?” The girl defied him with fire in her eyes, completely obvious to the fact Victor could do that if he wanted to.

“You know what? I might just do that” He trapped her against the wall “be careful with your words, frail, they might come true” Creed walked away before his little brother could interfere in anything.

And so the hours turned into days that turned into weeks and that weird situation persisted constantly. Since Victor decided to stick at the Institute, he was assigned to work with his brother in the danger room, under the promise he wasn't going to harm, claw or even touch any of the students. Victor rolled his eyes, yes, that was exactly he was there for, to kill a bunch of skinny 16 year olds, those stupid X-Men…

Y/N on the other hand avoided at any costs being around Victor, but that didn't mean he wasn't constantly watching her and she knew it. He would hide in every shadow, stand still in every dark corner and keep there, silently observing her. One part of Y/N thought it was creepy, but the other part… Thought it was sad. If those crazy things he said about the two of them were slightly real, why couldn't she remember anything? Why couldn't she feel anything that indicated her it was true? She didn't understand it. She was curious about him, yes, just like any mutant at that school. Y/N would be lying if she said there wasn't any attraction, Victor was an attractive guy after all, he had the mix of great looks with that dangerous vibe that seemed just appealing. But she also didn't know him, she only knew what everyone else did: he was deathly, cruel and merciless. What could he want with her? And all that mate talk, that also freaked her out immediately, Y/N carefully researched that, being mates with someone meant you were bonded for life with that person, it meant you would never be able to leave each other, not even if one of the parts wanted to. It sounded nice, romantic even, but who would want that with Victor Creed?

She was curious, of course, who wouldn't be dying to hear that crazy story and all its lunatic details? However, is there any possibility of sitting down and having a calm and balanced conversation with that guy? A cup of coffee even? Y/N didn't think so. Whenever she felt safe and sure enough to actually talk to Creed, she was welcomed by his forceful grip, trying desperately to kiss her and just snarling when she obviously denied him. It was beyond her how the Professor and even Logan were so uncaring towards the situation. When it all started, Xavier had been firm in saying Victor would only be welcome there as long as he stopped harassing her, but that wasn't true, she could tell that.

Many thoughts and ideas ran through her mind, maybe he was trying to conquer via exhaustion, which wasn't working, but she also didn't know until what point Victor could go, and that scared her. Maybe if she showed him she wasn't just a frail like he called her many times, maybe if she showed she could fend for herself he would stop bossing around as if she was something instead of someone. Y/N put her her pajamas away changing into some proper gym clothes, she was going to show that stubborn feral jerk she was no frail.

°°°

Her scent arrived in the danger room before she did, thanks to the howling wind that spread drafts all over. Victor inhaled deeply and cracked a wide smile, his pointy teeth making the young boy in front of him release a new wave of fear through the air, which made Creed instantly growl. Stupid kid's stinky scent covering his mate’s. He was ready to tell him off, when he saw her entering the room, and he could swear he was literally drooling. Victor forgot everything and everyone around him, focusing only on the girl that was walking in a confident way towards him. She looked stunning; it was impressive how some simple clothes made her even prettier. Pretty. He chuckled; to him, frails were separated in two categories: fuckable and not fuckable, but Y/N was… something else, she was more than just fuckable, she was gorgeous, she made his angered sabretooth meow like a house cat.

“Look what the cat dragged in” He smiled at her annoyed expression. She was giving him a hard time, but he couldn't deny she was just adorable when she pulled out that angry face.

“Cut the crap, Creed. I'm here to train and I heard you are the best at it” She told him, promising herself she wouldn't let his teasing get under her skin, her words were true; she was there for some exercise that was all.

“You're wrong, little kitten, I'm am a bad man, mean, I am the worst” He leant forward and whispered.

When they divided the teams, Y/N got conveniently against Victor’s. She rolled her eyes, of course he would play the cat and mouse game, and she was willing to show him he wouldn't win.

The room went completely dark for a second and soon the holograms started to appear; a building on fire, an empty street, a tunnel, dozens of dead civilians and sentinels. They all knew it wasn't real, but it was easier saying than believing, the holograms were so convincing it didn't take them long to start running around and assuming their positions.

Y/N ran and fought all she could, but she also tried keeping an eye on Victor, which was difficult because he just disappeared in the shadows during the entire activity, it was odd, she thought he'd be chasing after her all the time but apparently, he was taking the session seriously. She quickly sneaked into the tunnel and ran until she couldn't see anything in sight. The pitch black aura making her uncomfortable by minute, until her body was thrown onto the floor and a heavy weight immobilized her there.

“I thought my little mouse would never run into her trap” Victor’s voice was low and seductive, she hated to admit.

“Victor, what are you doing? Let me go”

“Why?” He kissed her neck and the young woman squirmed, trying to get rid of his grip, which wasn't a good idea, the more she moved, the more she rubbed herself against him, feeling every inch of his erection.

“You know this isn't right” She tried telling him but there was no point, not when he touched like that or how he softly bit her skin, finally getting to her lips and kissing her passionately. Her mind hated it but her body loved every minute.

“Wrong feels better little kitten, you need to trust me, I know exactly what you crave, how to make your cute tasty nipples hard and your tight pussy wet for me” he sniffed the air and laughed “and by the way you smell, I can tell you are already so turned on”

Victor’s words were so tempting, he was a dirty, disgusting man, but every naughty word, every filthy sexual thing he said only set her core more and more on fire.

“No…” She tried to beg

“No? This is exactly what you used to tell me when I was suckling on your sensitive clit for hours, overstimulating you, while your legs twitched and you wetted all my bedsheets”

His claw caressed her face, tracing the skin softly.

“It's a shame you can't remember all the times you got on all fours and let me fuck you for hours, even your cute little ass I fucked, Y/N, and you loved every fucking minute, crying out loud my name while your pussy gushed around my fingers, how I used to slap your beautiful face hard with my cock…”

Y/N was taken by a irrational, stupid desire and the next moment she pulled Victor's face closer, kissing him just as eager as he wished, her legs wrapped around his waist. She didn't know for how long that would have lasted if it weren't for Xavier's voice roaring throughout the speakers. Victor let go of her almost as dizzy as she was, taking a while to realize what was going on. The holograms went away and lights were quickly turned on. Logan grabbed his brother and held him in place, while the girls from the team helped Y/N up.

She looked at herself and saw her clothes torn to pieces in many different places. She looked at Victor, he was panting and looking confused and she realized what that looked like.

“Victor Creed. My office, now.”

Charles said angrily while the other students were quickly dismissed.

_____________

A/N: Dirty Vic!

@silverwing2522 @yung-honii @imagines-to-quench-thirst @bun-dpdbny @not-uh-author @grimmijaggers @skylar-mickey @heartsparksanctuary

I didn't know who else I could tag, I'm forgetful so I'm sorry if I forgot about someone ❤

[thegrumpygroomer]

The New Groomer’s Guide

Hello! If you’re following this account, I’m assuming you’re either already a groomer or interested in becoming one. And for both, I’d like to say: Welcome! For today’s post, I would like to pass on the knowledge I gained and kinda wished I could’ve figured out earlier. Many of you might go “yeah, duh” to a lot of this shit. Other’s might go “haha, yeah.” Hope you get something out of this either way.

1) It’s more than just ‘playing with puppies’- In this sense, I was kinda lucky. In my interview, my boss actually leveled with me and said “look, this job isn’t glamorous. It’s not about playing with puppies and having a good time. We clean dog assholes for a living.” That always stuck with me.

I’ve met some newbies that clearly didn’t get the same talking to as me. Or they thought it was fewer dog assholes and more puppies.

Either way, you learn quickly whether or not you want this just by that.

2) You will get bit- You’ll start out being wary of some dogs. Typically, those are the ones you should worry about least. I don’t know if you’ll ever get bit bad enough to make you bleed, but I’m talking from my own first and second-hand experience. I’ve seen some of the best groomers who’ve been doing it for far longer than me, stride out of the back with a bleeding hand. Sometimes it can’t be avoided because them motherfucker’s quick.

On the bright side, you can see it as training for a zombie apocalypse. No bitch-ass dead bitch gonna get you when Fido already taught you how to stay away from teeth.

3) Get a good pair of tweezers- This is something just about everyone forgets to tell you directly. Hair splinters are a BITCH. I have about twenty little shits permanently infused into the side of my pinky finger. They get to stay put for now because they didn’t cause any pain and alert me to their presence. To me, the ones on the palm are the worst. Especially the little white ones.

You will have a very intimate relationship with tweezers. One of those tiny magnifying glasses might help too.

4) Maybe get yourself a face mask and goggles too- Hair. It’ll be everywhere. There will be days you’ll walk out from drying your dog and your hair will have a new layer to it. You’ll find it hard to breathe then blow your nose and find out that husky from a week ago is still lodged in your nasal cavity. It’ll spiderweb all over your eyes. So, protect yourself so you can breathe and see.

Also, nail dust is a thing so the mask can be used again.

5) You’ll make a dog bleed- This is a very sad reality of grooming. But, there will come a time when you’ll draw blood. Maybe it’ll be a nicked paw pad, maybe your blade caught a scab. Most likely, it’ll be cutting a nail too short. No matter what, you’ll probably have a similar reaction to both me and a few people I trained.

You’ll cry and be afraid of doing it again. You might even react more than the dog you think is bleeding to death. It’s going to be okay; you’re going to get through it. It’s probably the crappiest part of the job but it is still a thing to prepare for. But, if you want this, you’ll have to get up from the floor where you passed out and learn all the steps to take to keep this from happening again.

And a better way of reacting if it does. Can’t have groomers always passing out.

6) You’ll gain breed prejudice- Huskies and German Shepherds? Get the fuck out of here. Yorkies? Those little shits better calm down! Border collies? Dude needs to take an ambient or something. Pit bulls? Fuck yeah! Always room for a pit bull bath!

You might think it’ll be obvious. Of course, you’ll love one type of dog over another. It’s not. Not at all. I’m more wary of a Pomeranian than I’ve ever been of a dog that comes up to my hip and I was attacked by a Shepard mix when I was seven.

This one’s pretty cut and dry. Hate some breeds, love others. There’s no telling what direction it’ll go.

You’ll never wanna do a pug nail trim though. That’s pretty universal.

7) Your tolerance levels are gonna change dramatically- When you do get a puppy, it’s both the best and the worst. Because, holy hell those little shits are adorable. But also, holy fuck this dog has never done this before and is scared shitless of everything! Puppies take practice and patience. A whole shitload of it. And that’ll be where your tolerance level should skyrocket. Remember, it’s a baby. It doesn’t know any better. (this should also hold true for any first timers and older dogs. Or just straight up nervous animals)

Now let’s talk about where tolerance will have the opposite effect: people.

Many will still have the whole “customer is always right” philosophy. Unfortunately, this is one of those places where that simply is not true. If you neglect to brush your dog? He gets a shave down rather than a light trim. You wanna shave you’re golden retriever because she’s shedding? That’s not how things work, ya dumbass!

I lost count of how many times I wanted to tell someone to do their fucking research before buying an animal. I didn’t get into this job to torture dogs.

It often helps to think that maybe this owner doesn’t know better. But, when you know for a fact they should know better, then you’re just going into the back to slam your head against the wall for a little while.

Also, those are the people who will usually become your request clients. So, you’ll have plenty of time trying to explain this shit to them. Enjoy!

8) You’ll be blamed for dumb things- The other day someone called to blame a groomer for giving a dog a mole. Not nicking a mole, GIVING him a mole. As if she had some kind of lame superpower to add something that usually takes forever to develop. Another time, I was accused of not giving a dog a bath because he went home and, the next day, “smelled like a dog.”

I don’t know why some people feel the need to do this. Maybe they lost touch with what it’s like to be a person with emotions. Maybe they think these are the best ways to get free things. Maybe their lives are just so miserable they need an outlet to dump all their crap. And what better scapegoat than a person in retail/service? You know, the one you just paid to get literally shat on?

(little gross extra for you: you will clean up shit. Sometimes, you’ll find it in your pocket. Don’t wear nice clothes to work…)

9) You’ll be in pain, like, 80% of the time- That’s a low ball too. I’m not a person who likes to be touched anymore than necessary. I don’t really hug unless I know you pretty well. I really like my personal space and strangers should never be in it.

But I would kill for a good back massage right about now.

If I could look into the future when I was in high school and saw this life, I would’ve done better in P.E. to prepare for it. I’m naturally a pretty strong person. I can lift some pretty heavy dogs without much of an issue. Even so, there are times my body screams at me for it. My main reason for wanting to go back to the gym is for upper body strength.

And then there’s carpal tunnel. It’ll be a bitch and you may need surgery down the line if you’re not careful. Just something to keep in mind.

Aches and pains will be a normal part of your day. Just think of them as a reminder that you are alive, I guess.

Now, I know you’re thinking that you just heard me bitch and moan about all the terrible shit in this job. Why would you wanna stay? Ore you may be thinking “Okay, so this is the part where they say something nice and return a bit of hope to our hearts.” Well, fuck you! I’m not some kinda straw man, Buzzfeed ass bitch here for your entertainment!

…..

Anyway.

10) it does have its upsides- I’ve had a lot of different jobs, most of which were a creative field. One of them paid a lot better than grooming. Many of them had their benefits like… not having to clean literal shit out of your pocket. But, it’s rare to find a job that can actually be fun.

All the bullshit I listed above is true; it’s all happened to me or around me. But most of the stuff are things that happen to everyone. That in itself brings you a certain amount of community. The people in the salon are very close-knit; it becomes almost like a family. And, like a family, we fight and bicker. But within that same hour, we’re laughing at bad puns and poop jokes. Immature? Maybe. But there’s not many other jobs where you can make these jokes without worrying about offending someone or just making things awkward.

There are days where I’m actually excited to go to work. Not many people can say that. Years ago, I couldn’t say that! So, I guess I’m lucky in a way.

This is not a job for everyone, don’t get me wrong. But when a job is geared for a certain type of person, it kinda sets up for a truly strong, supportive relationship.

-

Alright. Enough of this mushy sentimentality. This has been my New Groomer’s guide. Or, as it probably should’ve been titled “Ten things I wish someone told me when I became a Groomer.” But, ya know, I didn’t like that title.

Hope you enjoyed!

[yorickdaily]

Audition for FX’s Y. “Agent 355”

More auditions using official sides here.

Transcript of dialogue below the cut.

Scene 1

Man: So, what are you into? We got your indie acoustic, gangsta’ rap…

Agent 355: I’m into silence, how about that.

Man: You right, that’s up. Uh, I guess chicks don’t—

Agent 355: You’re still talking. I said I was into silence.

Man: Oh, so you don’t even want to—

Agent 355: No.

Man: Nothing?

Agent 355: Nothing from you.

Man: So how long you been doing this bodyguard thing. Here’s the thing, you punched my mama. I know she can be a pain, believe me, but what kind of man would I be if I didn’t defend my mom’s honor?

Agent 355: You don’t have to worry about that?

Man: About?

Agent 355: About being a man. You’re not one. You’re a boy. You’re a coddled little boy.

Man: Woah, wait a second. You can’t talk—

Agent 355: I’m not your bodyguard. I’m here to get you from point A to point B and protect you with my life if I have to because those are my orders.

Man: What does that even have to do with—

Agent 355: And I decked your mom because at that moment she was a direct threat to national security. I’d do it again. And if that makes you upset, that’s too damn bad.

Man: Well, I don’t like it.

Agent 355: Fine.

Man: You’ll get the worst Yelp review ever.

Agent 355: Do you. I’ll do me and accomplish the mission.

Scene 2

Agent 355: Excuse me, we need to report an attempted hit and run.

Officer: Fill these out. Come back when you’re done… Bitch, you trippin’ or just stupid?

Agent 355, pulling out her badge: Neither.  

Officer: Aw, fuck man. Fuck.

Agent 355: You, sit. And if you make me chase you again, I’m gonna catch you and beat your ass like you stole something. Over there, go – Like I said, I’m reporting a hit and run. I’m the hit, he’s the run.

Officer: How’d his face get that way?

Agent 355: I caught him. You’re welcome.

Officer: You out here trying to do a motherfucker’s job?

Agent 355: I just did it. How about some professional courtesy?

Officer: Fill out the damn forms and wait your turn.

Agent 355, writing: What’s your name?

Man: Darius.

Agent 355: Your full name.

Man: You a cop for real?

Agent 355: In a way.

Man: Either you is or you ain’t.

Agent 355: Your last name, Darius. And don’t bullshit me. I can smell that shit a million paces away on a mosquito’s ass, and you’re sitting right next to me. Feel me? What’s your government?

Man: Smalls. Darius Smalls. Like Biggie but—

Agent 355: You not related.

Man: How you know I was gon’ say that? You up in my thoughts, girl?

Agent 355: Your dumb ass almost killed me, but you keep trying to spit that game. You see where it gets you.

Man: Man, I didn’t even want to steal that whip. My boy’s calling me a bitch ass pussy, told me he was gonna run a train on my girl. What was I supposed to do? Why are you doing this? Bitch, you not even a real cop.

Agent 355: You know, some people don’t even have a mama’s house to lay up and smoke weed in. Hell, some people don’t even have a mama. You know why? Because a bitch ass pussy got behind the wheel and took her out. Nobody caught him. Nobody cared. Just like now. It doesn’t matter where I go or what I did to get there, all those nights of not knowing where I was gon’ sleep, all those days of not knowing when I was gon’ eat, all my mistakes. Nigga, I was you. Bored and pissed off and trapped. I would do stupid shit just to feel anything. I broke myself, put myself back together, went to war, came back, worked harder than anybody else —and still that look, that look that says I don’t give two squirts of piss who you are. Nobody cares except me.

Man: I care, no bullshit.

Agent 355: Your boy.  The next time he tries to say he’s gonna run a train your girl – fist to face ‘till he stops talking. What you did today, don’t do it again.

[babyjnmyeon-blog]

Sleeping Beauty [ III ]

Genre : Angst

Length: 6.7k

Pairing: Chanyeol x Baekhyun

Summary: All Chanyeol wants to do is go to sleep and forget.

Baekhyun’s laughter rings in his ears, lifts his spirits and makes him smile.

"Where are you?" he calls out.

"Come find me," he answers, his tone flirtatious. He grins and walks, listening to his breathless giggles, using them as his compass.

"Baby, where are you?"

"Here," he says. He freezes and turns around. "I'm right here," he says again, barely two feet away, beaming up at him, bright as the sun.

He's in his arms in less than a second, crushed to his chest as he buries his head in the crook of his neck.

"Baekhyun," he breathes against his skin. "Baek."

He's laughing softly, one of his palms pressed hard into his chest, over where his heart lay beating furiously. He buries his nose deeper into his warm skin and breathes in. He wants to stay here, like this, forever. He wants to melt into his skin, wants him to melt into his, to be forever submerged with one another.

"Chanyeol," he calls softly. "Chanyeolie."

The warmth disappears.

Now he's cold in his arms, now he's freezing. He pulls back in confusion and sees him staring up at him, eyes wide and terrified.

"Why?" he whispers, and his grip on him tightens.

"Are you okay?" he asks urgently. "What's wrong?"

"Why?" he repeats and he looks down and oh God there's blood. There's red, everywhere. On his shirt, on his.

Blood, blood, blood.

His blood.

"Baek," he says again, voice strangled, filled with panic. He looks down, sees the knife in his hands, sees the long, ugly wound carved on his side. No.

"Why?"

No no no no no.

"I'm sorry," he pleads, throwing the weapon down to the floor. "I'm sorry! Oh God I'm so sorry!"

He’s crying. He's disappearing. Oh God, he's leaving.

"Don't! Please don't!"

He's gone.

His eyes fly open and he sits up in panic, his heart racing, beating angrily against his chest. Oh God. OhGodOhGodOhGod. He stumbles blindly into the kitchen, trips on the kitchen chair and falls on his ass. Oh God. He can't breathe. Can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathe. He's gasping, trying to fill his lungs with air, trying to fucking breathe dammit! He balls his hands in fists and thumps his right hand frantically against his chest. One long, shuddering breath. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. His chest clears. He leans back against the fridge.

"Justice," he remembers Baekhyun’s dad saying, firm and certain. "We want justice."

This is justice, he thinks. Living with the truth. Living with his guilt.

This is justice.

xxx

He starts his weekend too early and misses two days of work. Junmyeon comes by, calls him twenty times, knocks worriedly on his door.

But he's passed out on the floor of the kitchen and he hears nothing.

He wakes up and finds himself in bed, his head pulsing with pain like someone just took a fire extinguisher to his head. He sits up with a groan because the pain gets even worse when he so much as moves. Looking around, he frowns. Everything seems oddly in place. He could have sworn he left his clothes lying on the floor the night before. He hears a sound, and now he's alert. Slowly, he climbs out of bed and creeps out into the living room. No one's around.

"Good morning." He jumps and turns to find his sister leaning against the refrigerator, a bored look plastered on her face.

"What the hell, Yoora," he mumbles, annoyed.

"Before you start thinking that I've broken in again, let me just say that your mom gave me the spare key before she left. In fact, I wouldn't even be here if she hadn't been so insistent for me to see if you're still alive. Which you are, barely."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks quietly, glaring at the smaller woman in front of him. Yoora looks at him and raises an eyebrow.

"It means that lying comatose on the floor of your kitchen does not exactly constitute as being alive. And from the looks of it, you'd been there for quite some time."

"Well, I'm still breathing. So you can go and tell mom that I don't need a babysitter."

"You know," Yoora says nonchalantly, curving up one palm to inspect her fingernails. "This juvenile, pre teen angst you've got going on gets old after a while."

"I'm sorry my juvenile, pre teen angst doesn't seem entertaining enough for you," he answers testily, his head still pounding from the hangover. He groans as he staggers against the couch, gripping the head of it in an effort to stay upright.

"Here," his sister says, walking over to hand him a glass of water and a plate of toast.

"I'm not hungry," he mutters.

"Well you need to eat something before I give you these vitamins, or you're probably going to throw up, and that is not a sight I want to see."

"Fine." He staggers towards the couch and drops himself onto it. "Thank you," he says as an afterthought.

"You're welcome. Eat up."

“You know you talk in your sleep."

"What?"

"You talk. In your sleep."

"What do I say?"

"..."

"Yoora?"

"Stupid things. Really, really stupid things."

xxx

He gets a call at 2:30 on a Monday morning. It woke him up from another nightmare.

"We found him," Detective Oh says through the phone. There's a note of satisfaction in the policeman's voice, a note of relief.

He stares at the phone for maybe two minutes once he hung up. This situation is bizarre, he thinks. He's about to meet his murderer, the one who took him away.

He stares hard through the glass at the person, the boy, sitting quietly alone. His expression was one of disdain, but Chanyeol thinks he sees the slight tremble of the boy's jaw. He can't possibly be more than fourteen.

"It's different there, man. Harsher. Colder."

He's just a boy.

"He says it was an accident," Detective Oh tells him. "Saw him walking alone and thought he had a shot, so he went for it. He didn't expect the struggle. The kid is new, you see, a novice. He screamed, he panicked, and they struggled."

Oh God. He turns away.

“Baekhyun's parents," he chokes out. They would want to know these things. They would want every single detail. But not him. The images he's conjured up in his mind are too vivid. He doesn't need even more clarity.

"They've been informed. They're on their way."

He turns back to look at the boy, whose face seems to be crumbling even further by the second. He takes everything in, memorizes every feature, right down to the pool of water merged in his clear blue eyes. This picture is going to stay with him forever, this boy will stay with him forever.

The boy who ruined his life in a single careless act. The one whose life he ruined.

He walks quickly towards the exit, eyes trained towards the double doors that will lead him out of here. He needs to get out of here. Nownownow. He pushes the door open and a rush of cold air hits his face. He makes it to the bottom step.

He throws up in the shrub to his left.

xxx

"Get over yourself, Yeol. You're not that special. You're not responsible for everything that happens in this world."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is not your fault," Yoora says instead.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"He isn't your fault."

"Yes. Yes, he is."

"How is it your fault?"

He grips the drink in his hand tighter. He doesn't know what possessed him to call Yoora in the first place. He just knows he doesn't want to be alone. Yoora’s sitting primly on the couch, one leg over the other, staring at him intently. It's hard to find the words, hard to construct a sentence.

"Do you know how many time he called me that night?" he finally starts, staring at the way the drink swirls in the glass he's tilting. "Five times. 2:20. 2:25. 2:30. 2:35. 2:50. Do you know what I was doing?"

Yoora shakes his head, expression troubled. He snorts.

"Sleeping. The phone was in my hand. He called me five times. I didn't wake up. I wasn't supposed to be sleeping. I was supposed to be awake. I was supposed to wait for him. But I fucking fell asleep."

"Chanyeol-"

"Do you know how ridiculous that is? That he was out there, scared and alone and dying, and I was asleep?"

"I don't-"

"He was alone, Yoora. He told me it was fine. He said it was just a fifteen-minute walk. He was going to be fine. I had a bad feeling about it, you know? But I was too tired, working on over time. So I ignored it. I said yeah, okay, even though I knew, I knew something bad was going to happen."

"You didn't know-"

"I did. But I ignored it, because I was tired, like that even mattered. And he was late that night, you know? He was supposed to be home at midnight. But it was 3 AM, and he still wasn't home. I mean, what the fuck was wrong with me? Why the hell wasn't I out there looking for him?"

"Chanyeol-"

"He was alone, Yoora. He died alone. And that's my fault."

"You didn't kill him. You didn't grab a knife and stab him. That boy did."

"He's a kid."

"He's a functioning human being."

"He's a child."

"Okay fine. So you're responsible. You're the motherfucking jackass who left his fiancé to die."

He drains the last of his liquor and stares numbly at Yoora over the glass.

"But you know what? That makes him the dumb bitch who was stupid enough to walk home alone in the middle of the night-"

"Shut up."

"And that boy? Yeah, he's the motherfucking murderer who thinks he'll get away with it just because he's a minor-"

"For God's sake, Yoora shut the fuck up!"

"So yay! You're all responsible for this. You're all to blame. Happy now?"

"Get the hell out of my house."

xxx

The knock comes almost five hours later at one in the morning. He's still glued to that couch, head spinning from everything, from the liquor to that boy and from every word that fell out of Yoora’s mouth.

"I'm sorry!" he hears, the yell muffled by the two-inch wood standing in between them. He continues staring at the bright yellow flower patterns littered all over his couch.

Ten minutes later, he gets up and opens the door. He finds Yoora on the floor, leaning against the wall opposite his, legs splayed in resignation in front of him. His sister jumps up immediately.

"I'm sorry," Yoora says again, quietly this time. He takes in the disheveled appearance, the bloodshot eyes and the tear tracks. He turns around and leaves the door open.

"I miss him," Yoora tells him. "God I miss everything about him. His anal tendencies, all that annoying optimism. I miss his voice. You just- they're never something I thought I'd miss, you know? I never thought I'd live a day without his constant need to 'maintain the bonds of our relationship' by calling me every single day, even when he had nothing to say. I never thought he’d ever stop hounding me to my very last breath of patience, to come have dinner here every single weekend for the past four years, subjecting me to the horrible science experiments that were his cooking. I just- I miss him."

"I know.”

xxx

Baekhyun’s parents leave the city three days later. He meets them at the airport because Yoora won't take no for an answer. He stands awkwardly next to her as his parents say their goodbyes. He thinks that they both look worse than they did since the last time he saw them. He guesses now that they found justice, the loss is even harder to bear.

"Don't be a stranger," Baekhyun’s dad says as he's pulled down for a hug. He looks up from where he's crushed against the old man, and his mom nods and pats his shoulder.

"I won't."

He watches as they walk away, and he thinks that's the one promise he intends never to break.

xxx

"Will you ever stop blaming yourself?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because- because if I don't blame myself, then I'd have to accept that it was inevitable. I'd have to accept that there would have been nothing I can do, that it would have happened, no matter what. And I can't. I can't."

"Okay."

The rest of the drive back was filled with silence.

"I still think you're being stupid," Yoora says when the cab comes to a stop.

xxx

He sees her pacing in front of his front door as he reaches the last step on his floor. He feels the wariness settling in and contemplates turning around to walk back down when she turns her head and spots him. She smiles.

"Chanyeol," she calls, a little too loudly.

"Kim," he acknowledges, giving her a nod as he continues his way to the apartment. He stops in front of her, slightly annoyed because she's standing right in between him and the door.

"How are you?" she asks softly as she steps aside. He pushes his key into the lock and turns, pushing the door open. He looks up at her and forces a smile.

"I'm okay," he answers, civil. She nods her head.

"Good." They stand awkwardly at the doorway for a few seconds until she realizes that he's not about to invite her in.

"Look, Chanyeol," she says finally. "We're having a get together down at the studio this Sunday. It's- Well, it's a memorial, for Baekhyun. And we would really like it if you could come." He freezes, the forced smile getting harder to keep in place.

"We all miss him," she continues softly, her eyes suddenly glossy, and there's a voice in the back of his head that sounds eerily like his husband’s, telling him that he's acting like a douche. Kim was his friend, a good friend.

"I-" He stops, not knowing what to say. Somehow, he doesn't think to say I wish it was me instead, or he tells me it's my fault in my dreams would be the right things to say. "I miss him too."

"Chanyeol," she says, grasping his arm. He forces himself not to flinch. "Please come."

"Okay."

He's not going.

xxx

It's Friday and he's home-free. He woke up. He went to work. He came home. He called his mom. He lived.

He opens the cabinet next to the fridge, grabs the full bottle he bought the day before, ignoring the set of China he had specifically set aside for guests only, collecting dust from the lack of use. He grabs the bottle opener, positions it professionally over the cap, and someone is knocking on his door.

His eyes swivel from the door to the bottle in his hand, contemplating whether to ignore whoever it is on the other side altogether, when Yoora’s voice floats through.

"For the love of God, couldn't you at least let me in before you drink yourself to death?" She rolls his eyes and leaves the bottle to open the door.

"What are you doing here?" Yoora pushes past him, his slight figure slipping easily through the doorway.

"Dinner," his sister says simply, holding up the plastic bag in his hand. "It's Chinese."

"I'm not hungry."

"Well you never are these days," she says as she makes his way to the kitchen. "But you still need to eat. Now come on, I got you the kung pao chicken. It's not cheap."

"I didn't ask you to," he mutters under his breath as he follows suit.

"You're welcome." She leans against the small counter top with a frown as his brother places the food next to the stove.

"What are you doing?" he asks sharply as he pulls open the door of the cabinet next to the fridge.

"Nice," she says sarcastically instead, at the sight of the bottles and the China pushed to the back.

"Get away from there."

"What do you suppose we eat from Chanyeol? The carton? We are not barbarians. We are civilized human beings."

"Don't- don't use those."

"We always use these."

"They're-" They're his, he wants to say. "I don't want to break them." She stares at him for a while, her gaze penetrating, until it makes him uncomfortable and she looks away.

"Fine," Yoora finally says, and moves towards the next cabinet, taking out the normal, everyday ceramic plates that she uses.

"You don't have to check up on me, you know."

"It's just dinner Chanyeol."

xxx

He wakes up to a whirring noise and groans as he buries his head under the pillow. The noise gets even more grating and he gives up on going back to sleep.

"Smoothie?" Yoora offers as she steps blearily out of her room. Chanyeol shakes his head, giving her a sour look.

"You really need to go grocery shopping, Chanyeol. There's nothing edible whatsoever in this house. I had to make a quick trip three blocks away for these," she says, gesturing towards the fruits and loaf of bread in front of her.

"Well, you're not supposed to be here in the first place," Chanyeol answers testily as he pours himself a glass of water. He's getting antsy. This is not the weekend he had planned.

"Oh stop being so catty."

"Fuck off."

"Lovely."

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"A woman came by this morning. Kim, she said her name was."

He says nothing, staring at the blank television screen.

"She said to tell you that the memorial starts at three tomorrow. She said she tried calling you, but you never picked up and she wanted to make sure you got the message."

"You're skipping out on this thing, aren't you?"

"That's the plan."

"It's a shame."

"What?"

"A memorial for Byun Baekhyun? He would have loved it. All that attention especially for him? It's just a shame you won't be there, that's all. I mean, he would have wanted you to be."

xxx

He lies back on his bed in the dark, staring at the pitch black of nothing before him.

"You're really on board with this solo album aren't you?" he asks Baekhyun, after he just spent fifteen minutes telling him about all the songs and their meanings. He turns to look at him as they walk together towards the school exit, his expression appalled.

"Of course I am!" He exclaims, throwing his arms out. “This solo is important to me, Yeol. Everyone will know who I am because of my hard work and incomparable talent. That's why I have to do my best so that once I get famous and everyone wants to be like me, I'll be able to set a good example as a proper role model for the younger generation."

Chanyeol stares at him, slightly open mouthed. He's pretty sure he understood only half of what he said because he's talking so fast. A few weeks ago, he thought he was a snotty, arrogant brat. But the more he hangs out with him, well, he just can't help but believe what he's saying. He's so confident and talented and stuff, of course, he's gonna be famous one day. He's kind of blushing and he guesses it's 'cause he's been staring at him for so long, so he just smiles at him and turns his head back to watch where he's going.

Baekhyun's kinda cool. In a weird kind of way.

xxx

"Yoora?"

"It's two in the morning Chanyeol. Why on earth would you call someone at two in the morning?"

"Can you come with me?"

xxx

The building is old and rusty, somewhat on the dilapidated side. He pushes through the metal door of the entrance, his sister walking slightly behind him. Baekhyun loved this place, which was odd in a way.

"I have to pay my dues Yeol,” Baekhyun used to tell him. “My album is just around the corner."

Which corner, he'll now never know.

It really was the perfect place for him, surrounded by a bunch of producer geeks, all trying to make it big. They are a small company. He had real friends, people who finally understood him, something he knew he had been looking for all his life. He was glad for it, still glad for it.

Kim smiles, beams really when she sees him enter, and it reminds him of Baekhyun and his huge, unrestrained smiles and it overwhelms him for a second before he collects himself. She nudges somebody, who was standing to her left, and they both make their way towards him.

"We're so glad you could make it," the man says, shaking his hand.

xxx

"The first time I met Baekhyun, he told me I'd make for a great supporting actress." The room laughs as a tall, slender and blonde shakes her head and smiles. "Now, I came here to be a leading lady and here was this tiny boy telling me that he's willing to share his spotlight with me because ‘you're very talented, almost as talented as me'. It was my first day here, and I thought it was a prank. But then I found out, no. It was just Baekhyun."

"But in all honesty, he was the first person to come up to me and say hello. He gave me those sugar cookies of his the next day and apologized for his rude behavior. It's odd how I can still remember what he told me. He said, 'I told my boyfriend about you last night, and he said I might have offended you with my statement. I hope you accept my sugar cookies as a sincere apology'."

The room starts to laugh, and he vaguely remembers the conversation and the distressed look that passed over his face when he had tactfully told him so. He had spent the whole night painstakingly hovering over those cookies and slapping his hand away when he furtively reached out for one.

"Here," he had said as he handed him one that was slightly burnt and kissed his cheek. "Now leave the rest alone. They're for a friend." He snaps out of his reverie when Yoora discreetly nudges his elbow.

"But that was Baekhyun," she continues, her voice taking on a softer tone. "The Baekhyun I knew. He knew exactly what he wanted. It's like he had tunnel vision, you know? Once he set his mind to something, he went all out for it. And once you heard him sing, well you know immediately where all that confidence came from. And sometimes it overshadowed the best parts of Baekhyun, like his inability to ever hold a grudge or that sunny optimism he has that annoys you to no end, but that you're secretly grateful for. And he's honest. Painfully honest. He had this quality about him, a certain kind of natural gracefulness that comes from being a true leading man. And well, we miss you Baekhyun. The universe lost a star.”

xxx

"Do you think I'll make it?" Baekhyun asked once hesitatingly after a studio wrap up while they were walking home. He had stopped him there, in the middle of the street, and gently prodded her jaw up to face him.

"Not only will you make it," he said confidently. "You'll kick all of their asses.”

"I have a feeling," he had whispered into his ear on their first night as a married couple. Married. They were married. There was a nice ring to that. They lay on the floor of their bedroom, photographs of their childhood scattered around them.

"What feeling?" he asked, glancing down at him suggestively as he allowed a little more of his weight to pin him down. Baekhyun had rolled his eyes and slapped his arm playfully.

"Something's coming Yeol. I think this is it, I think this is my big break,” he said breathlessly as his lips skimmed past the skin where his ear meets his neck.

"Should we celebrate?" His lips brushed against his collarbone, his breath hot against his skin.

"What do you have in mind?" Baekhyun asked playfully, one hand slipping under his shirt, his fingernails softly grazing the skin underneath. His lips curved into a smile against his.

"What do you think?"

For the first time since that day, since he held him in his arms, waiting for him to stop breathing, he lets himself remember.

He reaches out.

xxx

He sends in his notice of unpaid leave the next day.

"Take your time Chanyeol," Junmyeon says, pulling him into a hug.

"I will."

He goes home and packs his bag.

He looks out the window of the plane as it's landing and somehow, the familiar patches of Seoul, comforts him.

Welcome home, it says.

xxx

He finds his dad sitting on a chair in the waiting area, his fingers toying with the cap in his hands. He stops for a while to stare at the old man with the distraught look on his face and worry lines on his forehead. Taking a deep breath, Chanyeol walks toward his dad.

"Hey," he greets, stopping right in front of him. His dad looks up, slightly startled, before his face breaks into a smile.

"How was your flight?"

"Okay."

Silence ensues, but the both of them have never been known to be great conversationalists anyway, especially not with each other.

"Yoora told us about the memorial," he says suddenly, eyes on the road as he made a left turn into their street. "She said it was good."

"It was perfect."

xxx

"We're home!" His dad calls out as they enter the front door and he hears the sound of clanging in the kitchen before he sees his mom come running into the room, her left cheek smeared with flour, as she folds him into her arms. He's 6’1, taller than most and so much taller than her, but for that moment in her arms, he feels safe. He doesn't feel like he's twenty-five years old or like his life had fallen apart in his hands. For a moment he's Chanyeol, and she's his mom, and she makes him feel safe. She pulls back and he sees the tears in her eyes.

"Are you hungry?" she asks, her voice trembling. He smiles and wipes away the flour on her cheek with his knuckles.

"Starving."

He makes it to his room after she practically force fed him with her casserole and apple pie. She watched him like a hawk while he ate, and he had a feeling Yoora's been telling on him. The room smells musty and clean, and he thinks he smells the pine freshener she had sprayed before he arrived. It's weird to be here, where everything was just as he left it, like a snapshot from a memory of his life years ago. He drops his luggage at the foot of his bed as his gaze falls on to the frame on his bed side. He sits on the edge of the mattress and picks it up.

"Hi," he says to the beaming boy in the picture. "I've been an ass, haven't I?"

An almost smile graces his features at the memory of the photograph, of Baekhyun at nineteen, and his almost manic-like excitement at attempting karaoke for the first time in his life. He had hogged the microphone all night. It had been a hilarious night that ended with Baekhyun talking his ear off and begging him to not go home just yet because his parents were out of town and he wanted pancakes and didn't want to eat alone. They had fallen asleep together on the couch in front of his television and were woken up by his dad. He was almost grounded.

Their mutual friend had given Chanyeol that picture of him, standing just outside the karaoke bar, excitement coloring Baekhyun's cheeks and lighting in his eyes. He was nineteen, and he was alive and happy and perfect in his eyes. He would always be perfect. He stares at the way his eyes were twinkling, at the way his mouth was open in mid-giggle and the way his hair fell over his face and he wonders what this boy would think of him now.

"I'm working on it," he tells the picture quietly before he sets it down again.

xxx

He sees Baek everywhere he goes. He’s there in his room, his face shining happily as he tells him that he's found the perfect song for their duet. He sees him in his kitchen, clicking his tongue as his nineteen-year-old self-pulled him back against him playfully, and he tells him to take a shower because he stinks from all that time in his dad’s garage, but not before he turns to kiss him. He walks out the door and he sees Baek at the end of his driveway, waving enthusiastically at him, as he runs up to meet him after a whole semester of college spent apart.

He drives past their high school on his way to his house, and a whole montage of Baekhyun (happy, angry, sad, smiling, laughing, crying, kissing him, yelling angrily at him, walking away from him) assaults his mind and he has to pull over before he runs into a tree.

He pulls up in the Byun driveway and he sees him on the front steps, twenty now, and his eyes bloodshot and tired from a fight that they've forgotten the reason to the moment they walked away. He sees him walking, running, out of his mother's car fifteen minutes after he drove away and turned back around and he sees them meeting each other halfway, incoherent apologies leaving their lips as laughter filled with relief floated through the air, holding onto each other in the freezing snow like two idiots in love.

He’s everywhere.

xxx

"How are you doing?" Baekhyun’s mother asks him as she takes off his coat. That's what everybody's asking him these days. How are you doing? He always smiles, nods his head and says fine. It's different when his dad asks him, it's different when there's a perpetual look of sorrow that colors the woman’s gaze and a note of sincere wonder coloring her voice.

"I'm," he starts, unsure. He's never really asked himself that, never took the time to just stop and think, how are you doing Chanyeol? But he needs an honest answer this time because fine just isn't going to cut it. "I'm trying," he finally says.

His mom nods and lets him through.

xxx

"The chicken's good," he says awkwardly after the quiet dinner, looking for something to say. Baekhyun’s dad smiles at him.

"We know it's your favorite," he says. "How can we not, when Baek almost burned the house down, trying to make it for you?" he continues, almost rolling his eyes at the memory. He catches Chanyeol’s gaze and they both smile. Baekhyun, for all of his talent at baking, was a terrible cook.

"It wasn't his strongest suit," Chanyeol admitted, chuckling, as he remembers every single one of his disastrous attempts.

"That's putting it mildly," His mother answers wryly.

"The smoke detector went off once," she says suddenly, remembering an incident a year ago. "He was trying to make pot roast. From scratch. I think it was to celebrate my first bonus or something. I heard him scream, smelled something burning and then the smoke detector went off."

"Well, you should have seen his attempt at the burgers. They tasted horrible. But he was so proud of himself."

"I know the burgers," he answers knowingly, the smile on his face grew into a grin. The sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor stops him from elaborating. He turns to see Baek’s mom, struggling hastily to stand up.

"Excuse me," his mother says and leaves the room. He turns to look back at the bones on his plate, ignoring the heartbreak etched on Baekhyun’s mother’s face. Baek’s dad clears his throat and Chanyeol looks up. The older man smiles weakly at him.

"She just needs time."

Chanyeol nods his head and looks back down, the awkward silence creeping back into the room. He leaves him in the kitchen after the man had explicitly told him to leave the dishes be. He walks up the stairs, turns left once he reaches the top, and continues slowly until he reaches the last door. He turns the knob and pushes it open. It's dark and he can't see a thing and he's never remembered his room to be this dark ever until he realizes that they've closed his curtains to keep the light out. He feels along the wall to his left to find the switch and turns it on.

The sight overwhelms him. Just like it was before when he was in his own room, it feels as if nothing has changed. He stares at the black and gray bedspread, its laced edges trailing down to his carpeted floor, and the pillows that lined up the headboard. He takes another step forward and closes the door behind him. He doesn't know what to do with himself, so he sits on the edge of his bed.

He sees Baekhyun standing in front of that full-length mirror, a brush in hand, as he sings at the top of his lungs and winks at him through his reflection. He looks toward the closed bathroom and he sees Baekhyun, almost twenty-one and the most beautiful thing his twenty one-year-old self-had ever seen, standing shyly with just underwear on. His hands are crossed almost hesitantly over his torso, he wonders again how it was possible for him to get to that moment, to be twenty-one and in love and to know so surely that this boy was going to be the one for him for the rest of his life.

He had been one hell of a lucky bastard until his luck ran out.

xxx

He fell asleep.

He wakes up in the middle of the night and his shoes are on the floor and there's a blanket over him. The curtains are open again, and he stares quietly around the room through the light that emanated from the street lamp outside.

He sees Baekhyun next to him, his eyes closed and his face peaceful as he sleeps on, his face turned towards him with both hands under his chin.

He reaches out a hand towards him without realizing it, and he's gone.

xxx

It's been a week.

He's taking his time.

The wedding day approaches. Their wedding day. It's tomorrow and he thinks he wouldn't be forced to remember it every second of every fucking hour if everybody would just stop asking him how he's doing.

He freaks out at his mom. He feels guilty about it now, knows that he's being a horrible son, but she's been hovering the whole fucking day and no, he doesn't need another reminder that it's supposed to be his wedding day tomorrow. A real wedding, with a real wedding cake and real wedding guests.

So when she asked him if he needed anything, for the tenth time in two hours, he lost it. And he yelled. And she looked surprised. And he was out the door before the expression could turn into hurt.

The front door opens and he opens his mouth to apologize.

"C'mon."

He looks up to find his dad, bundled up in his coat, car keys in hand. He stares up at his stepfather blankly.

"You need a drink."

"It's four o'clock."

"It's a special occasion."

He's on his tenth shot and well on his way to becoming drunk and his dad’s staring at him out of the corner of his eye, those worry lines on his forehead getting deeper.

Don't worry, he feels like saying, this is nothing.

"Thanks," he says instead, because it feels like he needed this break, needed a moment to just stop trying.

"No problem," His dad says and Chanyeol smiles as he clinks their glasses together.

"Look Chanyeol,” the old man begins again after a period of comfortable silence, at least from his end. "I know this is tough on you."

"It's not tough," he mumbles, staring at the drink in his glass. "It's just hell."

The awkward silence strikes again.

"It'll get better."

"Everybody keeps saying that," Chanyeol mutters, looking up at his father in wonder. "It'll get better Chanyeol. Take your time Chanyeol. How are you doing Chanyeol? I know, I keep saying. I will. I'm fine. But y'know what dad?" he asks, downing another shot. He sees his dad trying to discreetly signal the bartender to cut him off.

"It really doesn't. And I'm sick of taking my time, because really, what the fuck does that even mean? And, how am I doing?" he continues incredulously. "I'm going crazy. I'm not fine. I'm not okay. It fucking hurts, okay? It hurts, like, all the fucking time. Because he's everywhere. I see him, everywhere I go, every turn I make, he's just right there! But not really, 'cause he's dead. And what am I supposed to do with myself now? And whoa-" he leans back too far and almost falls over the stool but the man next to him grips his shoulder firmly.

"And when I remember that, it finally clicks, then he goes away and that's even worse because I can't see him, because then he's nowhere and all I want to do, dad, is see him. I just want to touch him, because I miss him so fucking much it hurts. And now, there's a wedding tomorrow, and it's supposed to be our wedding, and everyone's looking at me like my dog was just fucking run over by a pick-up truck." He laughs humorlessly, his grip on the empty glass tightening.

"But it's not a dog, no. It's my husband. And he was stabbed in the middle of some dark alley by some kid, a child, who was too stupid and too young to be responsible. He was my husband for two days and then he was fucking stabbed, and that wasn't supposed to happen to him, to us, because he was my husband, and I was supposed to protect him and some punk stabbed him and I wasn't there! And it wasn't even that that killed him, no! He just didn't fucking wake up. Like, everything was fine, everything went well, and he just didn't come back. And now it's just- empty. I wake up and he's not there, and I can barely remember his scent and it fucking terrifies me because I don't want to forget and how does it get better?” He feels a little confused, a little upset, and angry. A lot angry. So he stands abruptly and pushes away the hand gripping his shoulder, and he sways a little and grips the edge of the table to steady himself. He looks up and looks at his dad in the eye, and there's an understanding that's mixed with pity that throws him off.

"How does it get better?" he asks again, voice barely a whisper before he staggers against the table and blacks out.

"It's like Sleeping Beauty," Chanyeol slurs.

"What?" His dad grunts, as he tries his best to even out the weight of the young man on his back. He has Chanyeol’s arms around his neck, legs dangling, nearly touching the floor, as he carries his son back to the car.

"Like Sleeping Beauty," Chanyeol mumbles again, almost incoherently. "But this time he didn't wake up. I tried to save him, but he didn't wake up."

"You're really drunk."

"I'm a bad, bad prince," he mumbles angrily. "Fairy tales are a bitch. They fucking lie.”

______________________________

A/N: Not gonna lie, I wrote the drunk scene while tipsy. I’m surprised how it came out. My heart hurts for chanyeol :(((((( 

[even-reo-speedwagon]

+ATK Sonya + Stat boost from Tempest Trial + Atk Hone 3 +  ATK + 1 + Mirror Strike 2 (which adds +4 Atk during combat) =

WELCOME TO THE MOTHERFUCKING PAIN TRAIN!!!

[velcr0kitty]

What If? (Pt.2)

Title: What If? (Pt.2) Summary: You indulge yourself in a harmless passion, following a train of thought, but when Mikey catches a glimpse it may not be so harmless after all. Author: Velcr0Kitty Characters: Mikey x Reader Word Count: 1488 Warnings: Angst, fluff, body image… issues? I guess? Author’s Notes: WELCOME BACK MOTHERFUCKERS I AM CAFFEINATED :) I was gonna post this as one big fic (I had hit like 3000 words) but I decided to split this up. It keeps growing :D (I took liberty and tagged a bunch of you people)

It was three agonizing days until you saw Mikey again. According to Raph he spent most of his time in the training room, relentlessly pushing himself to several limits. When one of the others could force him out for a little while he spent all of his time in his and Raph’s room “mopin’ over that weird book.”

Splinter had approached the others expressing his concerns and, until Leo mentioned your breakdown, he had nothing.

“My child?” Splinter slowly entered your room where you were laying, sketching away. You jump and try to hide your sketchbook, throwing it behind you. He quirks an eyebrow and extends his hand, motioning for you to hand him whatever it was. It was the first time since the fight you’d even touched a pencil and it seemed that all you could draw was Mikey. So, like a little kid in trouble, you hand it over. As recognition and something akin to pride swarm his features you shrink further into yourself expecting to be reprimanded. Instead he gives you a small smile and hands it back.

“Well done. That’s a very fine piece of art.” He pauses, giving you time to start explaining on your own. You sit with your eyes closed, hoping he’ll just go away. He simply stares at you, patiently, and sits. After a few tense, silent moments, you break.

“I’msosorrySplinter, I didn’t mean any harm! I draw. I was gonna go to art school then my- and then- and I just drew Mikey, Ididn’tmeantohurthim I’m sorry!” You blurt in one breath and start crying, again. Splinter had grabbed you mid-sentence and just held you. You sobbed and cried and rambled until you could breathe again. The whole time the rat who had become a father to you patted your back and waited for you to calm down.

When you had quieted and stopped shaking Splinter lied your head on his lap, combed through your hair and slowly spoke.

“Child, you must tell me what has happened. I was worried about Michelangelo, but now I fear for you too. You must explain, if you can,” and so you did. You explained everything. Your past, how bad off you were when they found you, your crush on Mikey, that night, your idea, the drawing, all leading up to three days ago. You had to stop a few times at the more painful moments and had cried silently the whole time. Once you had finished Splinter sat silently. He drank in your words, rolling them around in his head and slowly formed a response. He does this often when spoken to so you give him time and just enjoy the comfort he provides.

“Given the circumstance, you should go to him.” As he speaks, you slowly sit up and match his gaze. “This isn’t something that can be fixed outwardly, but from the inside I believe it can heal.”

“Really?”

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Mikey loved the feel of adrenaline coursing through him after training. It put a pep in his step until it wore off and his muscles started to ache. He figured, while he was still hype, that he’d go bug his favorite sweetheart. As he wandered towards your room he enjoyed the serenity of the lair. He could hear his brothers loudly speaking then quietly disbanding, each wandering off to their separate corners. He hears Raph’s music turn up, he hears the familiar beep of Donnie’s lab door, he hears the shower, probably Leo. His hands drift to his pockets and his mind drifts to his girl - uh, well not his girl but… god, he wanted her to be. He always knew there was something about Y/N but… lately? He couldn’t help but think of you.

He was surprised to see that you weren’t in your room, so he took the time to, well, indulge himself. He looked around your room at just how you it was. The furniture, the colors, lighting, nerd stuff littering every surface, fuck even the smell. The 19 year old’s chest tightened as he took in that smell and enjoyed the little energetic rush that spiraled from his chest, down his arms and settling low. His stomach turned over and he closed his eyes, starting to daydream. Out of a dreamy fog an image of burying his face into your hair as he held you tightly swarms him. He could almost feel your small arms trying to wrap around him and failing, but still tightening nonetheless, as well as you nuzzling into his neck. The ghostly press of a kiss or two sends another shot through his body and this one snaps him out of his dizzying day dream.

He jumps and sobers up, remembering you could walk in at anytime, and continues snooping. With his arms latched behind his back he wanders around the room. His eyes fall to something on your bed. It was a some loose papers, a couple pencils, and, near the headboard, a few peculiar books. Confusion seizes him while curiosity drives him to take a peek. He glances at the door frame, pausing to consider the morality in this situation. The little devil on his shoulder has been screeching since he saw the papers and the little angel has been rambling more than Donnie. Mikey shakes his head and turns back to the papers picking up a pile of about four. His brows furrow. His jaw drops.

The paper between his fingers showed a drawing of him and his brothers side by side. Perfectly. A low whistle escapes him. Angelcakes did this?

“It’s like a photo,” he whispers breathlessly. A gargantuan smile splits his face as he excitedly flips page after page. His brothers, Splinter meditating, him laying around, Raph and Donnie sparring. He ran out of his pile and practically dove for the others. Some of the drawings were higher quality, some merely sketches. It didn’t matter, he devoured them all with fervor. Pride swelled in him and bubbles over into small bouts of giggles. He barks a sharp laugh and covers his mouth when he finds a damn near perfect capture of Raph’s bitch-face. He grabs one of the actual sketchbooks and leans against the steel beam that comes down in the middle of your room, flipping it open.

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You quietly approach the increasingly scarey curtain of beads separating you and Mikey. Splinters last words before you left the room ring in your ears.

“Of course, young one. Anything can be healed if you tend to it correctly. At the very least, you can mend the damage and lessen the blow.” You lightly chant this to yourself as you approach the archway to the shared room. Mend the damage, lessen the blow. Mend the damage… You’re met with a very grumpy Raph within the first few steps. He’s laying on the top bunk, your entrance catches his attention. The red tails of his mask flail a little as he looks at you, then snaps to Mikey for a moment (who is moping quietly in the corner, sitting on his drum kit’s stool leaning against the wall) and back again. He mouths ‘You dealing with this?’. You gave a curt, nervous nod.

“Oh, thaNK FUCK,” he groans, a little too loudly. Mikey swerves around, startled by the sudden outburst, locks eyes with you and confusion turns into a scowl. Raph slides off his bunk and moves past you, giving you two hearty good-luck-shoulder-pats on his way out. You reach out towards Raph a little as he wanders away silently yelling at him to not leave you alone. You begin to slightly tremble for the second time that day. Turning back, you find Mikey has turned around once more.

Alright. Fine. I guess it’s all on me.

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Mikey had made it through 2 of your old sketchbooks before he got to a newer one (he figured they were old cause he hasn’t worn that in at least a year) and picked up on a, um, theme so-to-speak. This book was near full, the only one on the bed that was closed, and was chock full of drawings of him. Of course his family was in there but it was totally rare if he wasn’t also in the drawing. To be honest, he was too stunned that none of them even knew about this amazing talent of yours to freak out about how much of him there was.

So far his favorite was one of him casually standing, facing away from the viewer, arms crossed, relatively serious. His first thought was, of course, ‘wow,’ but then it was ‘is my ass really that nice?’ It was then he saw a cute little cartoon you in the corner with sunglasses on staring at his ass, biting her lip and making a really funny face. That one he promised himself he was gonna make a copy of whether you knew about it or not.

(I’M SO SORRY, PT.3 SOON)

Tags: @another-tmnt-writer @girl-next-door-writes @llturner7 @sarazzprime @jam-jar2  @i-know-i-am-weird-thank-you