#wishing people death over something so mundane and what should be just entertainment is terrorism and you have been reported as such

[holdtightposts]

Reminder:

It’s the Scooby Doo 50th anniversary and they just released a sequel to one of their best animated movies ever on the last full moon of Friday the 13th until 30 years from now. What a powermove.

I also want people to remember that Scooby and the gang was designed by this man: Iwao Takamoto.

An American artist who was forcibly incarcerated into the concentration camp when he was a teenager. He was eventually hired at Disney in 1945 but his family were still interned.

Here’s an interview he did with CartoonBrew from years ago.

[voiceless-terror]

I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat. 

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks. 

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked. 

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it. 

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing. 

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up.  He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be. 

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant. 

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it. 

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is. 

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice.  He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him. 

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.  

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t. 

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

reblogs > likes

[xenaathena]

Prove It (13/?) [Ft. Reader x Loki]

Summary: Loki receives a marriage proposal from a young princess and accepts, becoming King of his own realm. However, he gets more than he bargains for as he learns that the kingdom has more than meets the eye and he finds himself in the middle of something sinister. What will he do when he falls in love with his wife and her life is at risk?…

Prove It - Masterlist

Warning: Mild Violence 

“Safe journey,” Freya hugged you.

“Thank you for everything Freya,” Loki hugged Freya once she released you from her hug “Should we survive you are always welcome at the castle.”

Your eyes widened upon hearing ‘should we survive’ and it was then that it truly resonated with you that you may actually die.

You looked around hoping to see Rueben but it would seem he left, sadness filled you with the knowledge of not saying goodbye to him. Pushing that thought aside you turned to Freya when she tapped on your shoulder.

“Take this with you,” she held out a small dagger that was the size of your hand and your eyes widened at the sight.

“Freya, I couldn’t – I’ve never used a dagger before in my life.”

“I insist. It’s better to have it and not need it then to need it and not have it.”

“O-okay…thank you,” you took the dagger from her holding it awkwardly in your hand. How in the world do people hold these things?

Loki and Freya shared a worried yet amused expression over how you were holding the dagger, Loki sighed and gently took it from you. He kneeled before you and began to lift your dress up, to which you patted his hands away. 

He chuckled while he raised an eyebrow at you, with a blushing face you turned your head away allowing him to continue. He pulled your dress up just enough to show the boots that Freya had given you. Using the laces he tied it to the side of your boot, tugging on to ensure that it was secure.

“There, now you can’t stab yourself with it,” he teased and you narrowed your eyes at him when he rose to his feet.

Freya watched as you both made your way into towards the mountain until she could no longer see you. Loki led the way with you following closely behind, clutching your coat closer to your chest. You could barely see in front of you as the sun had yet to rise but took comfort in the feeling of Loki’s hand in yours.

So many thoughts were running through your head but the biggest thing was why.

Why was your realm dying?

Why were you being blamed for everything?

Why was this even happening?

Though you didn’t want to entertain this thought, you had considered that maybe Loki was behind everything. You couldn’t help because truthfully nothing happened until he showed up. 

Granted your life was rather mundane until you married Loki but at least you weren’t being threatened. But, he’s just as confused as you are and he loves you.

Which means that he is not to blame for any of this and when the winds pick up he pulls you into his side. You snap out of your thoughts and focus on him, realizing that he’s doing everything he can to protect you. Upon realizing that you feel guilty for ever thinking that he was to blame but it wasn’t that hard to think it in the first place.

Since this is Loki we’re talking about, the most aggravating man you have ever met. And yet, he’s also the most caring person you’ve ever met. While you were lost in your thoughts he had been guiding you through the forest. Ensuring that you weren’t going to walk into anything or get hurt by anything.

There had been a hole in the ground that you almost walked into but he stopped you by picking you up and placing you on the opposite side. How you didn’t realize that was beyond you but you were grateful that he had picked you up.

“(Y/N),” Loki snapped his fingers in front of your face gaining your attention.

“What?” you looked up at him with furrowed brows.

“Now really isn’t the time to be daydreaming.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’ve almost walked into a hole and into a thorn bush and –”

“I get it,” you sighed. “But I haven’t been daydreaming.”

“Then what have you been doing?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“Everything.”

“Can you narrow it down to one thing?”

“Well, truthfully I thought you were behind everything…”

“You thought I was the cause of what is happening?” Loki asked with a raised brow, “I’m flattered that you think me capable of this,” he gestures to the dying forest that you two are walking through, “But I do not possess the type of magic to do this.”

“I said thought you were but I know you aren’t.”

“Now I’m offended that you think I’m not,” Loki teased and you giggled, “I am quite gifted with magic in many ways,” he winked at you and you shook your head at his suggestion.

“Now is not the time to be thinking about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because we are literally being hunted,” You deadpanned. “I don’t see how you can even being thinking about that right now.”

“Well, you are a very attractive woman. You are also my wife and I love you. So excuse me if I wish to make love to you,” Loki muses and you blush. “And the fact that we are being hunted just increases that desire.”

You have no idea what to say to that so you remain silent as you walk by his side. Then you let out a small yelp when he playfully slapped your bum to which you whacked his chest for causing him to laugh. Shaking your head you laugh along with him, which was nice but short lived.

Looking forward you stopped dead in your tracks with terror filled eyes. A hunting party of at least twenty or more men was approaching your current location. Loki followed your gaze and then acted quickly, he gripped your hand in his before dashing behind a tree. There wasn’t any other place to hide and despite the fact that it didn’t hide either of you very well it was better than nothing.

“Did they see us?” you whispered.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Loki sighed, “But I’ll think of something.”

“Well think faster!” you hissed as you peeked out from behind the tree and saw the hunting party coming closer. “Crap!”

“What?!”

“I think they saw me,” you said and snuck down to the ground. “I’m going to die,” you whimpered as tears filled your eyes.

Loki looked down at you and then up towards the hunting party. Even with his magic, there was no way he could take them on by himself and keep you safe at the same time. 

He then got an idea that might work and it’s something he has done many times before as a child. He kneeled before you and place a finger under your chin guiding your face upwards.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Truthfully?” you whispered and he nodded. “Sort of.”

“That will have to do then,” he sighed, “You’re not going to die.”

Before you could utter a single word he pulled you to your feet and gave a fierce kiss that took your breath away. He pulled away first and looked into your eyes before nodding and taking a few steps back from you.

“What are you doing?” you inquired a little breathlessly.

Loki merely smirked and you let out a gasp as you saw yourself appear right beside him. Then Loki walked to your side and another Loki appeared right in front of him. 

You looked to the real Loki and he winked at you before you looked to your illusions. Suddenly about eleven more pairs of them appeared in front of you, nearly scaring you half to death in the process.

You stood gaping at the illusions and wondered what Loki was planning to do with them. You clung to the real Loki, fearing you would lose him amongst the illusions. He chuckled at you before he sent a pair of the illusions out towards the hunting party.

“THERE THEY ARE!” a man yelled and the illusions ran off.

Loki sent all the illusions out in various directions and the hunting party split off in pursuit of them.

“How long will those last?” you asked Loki.

“Not long, RUN!” he said before he held your hand in his and took off running.

Unfortunately, a group of six men saw you and Loki running and took in pursuit of the two of you. You both kept looking over your shoulder as you ran and pushed yourselves to run faster. But, no matter how fast you ran it seemed that the men were getting closer.

You came to a sudden halt and tugged against Loki’s hand causing him to stumble backward. Both panting you looked down and saw that you were right on the edge of a cliffside. And to your right was the path that leads to the mountain path Freya told you about.

You let out a scream when an arrow pierced the backside of your left leg causing your knees to buckle. Loki caught you and lowered you gently to the ground before whirling around and shooting off ice spears at the men. He hit two of them in the chest killing them but that only angered the four remaining men.

Groaning you snapped the body of the arrow in attempts to pull it out. And out of the corner of your eye, you saw more men from the hunting party running towards you.

“Can you walk?” Loki asked while he threw more ice spears at the men who were dodging them.

“Do I have a choice?” you groaned as you painfully rose to your feet.

Slowly you shuffle to hide behind a tree’s trunk and gaze longingly at the mountain. Then shriek in surprise when an arrow goes flying past the tree’s side narrowly missing your left cheek.

“Get to the path!” Loki yells at you.

“What about you!?!”

“Just go!”

“LOKI!?”

“I’ll be right behind you!”

You hesitate for a moment but you have zero knowledge of fighting and are utterly useless to Loki right now. With a deep breath you turn and hobble your way to the path but the arrow prevented you from lifting your leg up which forced you to drag your leg. 

You didn’t dare look behind you in fear of what you might find. Loki had to be okay on his own and you had to get somewhere safe, not that the mountain path was safe but you preferred possible rockslides over the hunting party.

You could feel the arrow cutting deeper into your leg but then your body filled with adrenaline, numbing your pain. You could hear shouting and screams of pain emanating from behind you but you wouldn’t look back. 

Pushing yourself further to the path you just prayed you could make it but you wouldn’t get any further than half way up the path.

With a scream of fright, you were tackled to the ground by someone landing face first in the snow. You thrashed about effectively knocking your elbow into your attacker's face and somehow managed to squirm out from under them. 

You whipped your head around when you felt a hold on your ankle and kicked in a frenzy at the man who was holding your foot.

You’ve never seen him before and don’t really care to get a good look at his face. You just want to get away from him.

“LET GO!” you screamed as you kicked relentlessly.

“Never!”

You aimed your next kicks for his face and he roared in pain when the dagger Freya gave you hit his right eye. Well, looks like it was a good thing she gave you the dagger but now your attacker is pissed. And when you looked behind him four more men were charging towards you. You were absolutely screwed and you were going to die.

With a mad roar, your attacker throttled you and you screamed as you pushed against his arms. He was stronger than you but somehow you were managing to keep his hands away from your neck. Where was Loki? Tears filled your eyes and your vision became blurred.

“Please let me go!” you sobbed. “I’m not responsible for anything that’s happening!”

“Yeah right!” he seethes and some of his spit hits your right cheek. That was disgusting! You rubbed your cheek against the snow, wiping away his spit.

“I only found out about what’s happening last night! I was the princess for goodness sake! How could I be the one responsible for anything when I had no power to do anything or make any decisions regarding the realm!?!” you pleaded through a sob, hoping that he would see reason.

It was useless, the man above you was clouded with anger and there was nothing anyone could say to stop him. You whimpered as his hands came closer to your neck, trying to move your legs wasn’t helpful as his legs were pinning yours to the ground.

Then a flash of gray flew above you and your attacker was sent flying off into the distance.

“Rueben!” you happily sobbed.

Rueben stood above you, snarling with a low threatening growl at the approaching men, which were now six instead of four. They drew their weapons and Rueben let out a loud roar that shook the ground you laid on. The men stopped dead in their tracks with fearful eyes as they beheld Rueben, it would seem that just his mere presence was enough to make them rethink harming you.

That didn’t last long and arrows were launched towards you both but Rueben caught them in his mouth. He bites down and the arrows snapped in half before he spits them on the ground in front of him. 

You push yourself backward while Rueben keeps his gaze locked on the men. He lets outs roar that shakes the ground and then he pounces onto the men. Trembling and wide-eyed you watch as he rips the men to shreds, thankful that he’s on your side.

Somehow you manage to stand and stumble backward up the path while watching Rueben. You turned when you heard Rueben roar once more and hobbled quickly up and onto the side of the mountain. With a quick glance behind you hope to see Loki but he’s not there. Fighting away tears you push forward and hope for the best.

Loki ran past Rueben who’s fending off as many men as he can and Loki gives him a quick smile before running up the path. He’s heart is racing as he sees a trail of blood that he knows is from you and he curses himself for not being able to protect you.

“LET GO OF ME!”

That scream was from you, he’s certain of it and he pushes himself to run faster. He turns a corner and finds you fighting against a man who is trying to push you over the side of the mountain. Loki begins to feel weak as something begins to drain his magic. This can’t be happening, not right now, you need him and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t save you.

The man who is trying to push you over the edge is Kahlil, one of the men who barged into Freya’s home. He had slipped past Rueben and followed you up the mountain path. You had taken a break and were leaning against the mountain’s side when suddenly he appeared.

 You spun around when you felt a presence behind you and he grabbed you by the arm. He was stronger than you and no matter how hard you tried, he ended up dragging you.

“Get your hands off me,” you whimpered. “Please, please let me go.”

“Shut it!”

Kahlil suddenly is tackled to the ground and you fall to your knees causing a scream of agony to rip past your lips. Falling onto your side you clutch your injured leg and against your better judgment, yank out the arrow’s tip. With a trembling hand, you toss the arrow away and look up at Kahlil.

He’s wrestling a bloody Loki and your eyes widen in horror when the mountain beings to shake. The men stop wrestling to look up and rocks along with waves of snow are barreling their way down the mountain’s side. 

The path the three of you laid upon began to crumble and Loki knocked out Kahlil before desperately trying to get to you.

Just before Loki reaches you the path gives way sending you both plummeting into a dark abyss while rock and snow flow like rivers after you.

Part 13!

Thank you all so much for your sweet messages and patience with me over this past month. 

Thanks for reading!

Tag(s):

@backpackfullofplums @totheendofthelinepal@hymnofthevalkyries @cojootromuelle@avengerofyourheart @kirsten1976@inumorph @imagine-that-100 @areuforreal @malik-mermaid @virtualenemygalaxy @thirstybitchqueen @thisisthelilith@wrecklessimagine @mrshopkirk @theendofallthingsevil @heismyhunter@thewalkingmombie @eileenlikesyou-maybe @bucky-on-a-bike @lilasiannerd@tatortot2701 @feelmyroarrrr @readingtoescape @deancasandsamsass @buckyslion@james-bionic-barnes @buckysmetallicstump @shadowpriestess6@bvckys-doll@thelatinnameofaplant @swimminginfandoms1020 @iamflanneltrash@bloo-moon-freak@bands-messed-me-up @marvelsbae @superfannatural @casey-anne-j @amazing-fandom-freak @dw-sw-mw-jw-c @erinmorrison219 @thewinterher0@likelybucky @lady-thor-foster @angelsdeadromance @all-around-geek @kellarter @xxhusnaaxx  @virtualenemygalaxy @pandartist @jokerspuddinlove @nurse-unicorn @yehummno