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miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 1: Hurt No Comfort} |

| It all went wrong so quickly. Marinette thought she could trust Jason, that he'd never betray her. And Jason thought the same. But with a truth-serum turned poison seeping through their veins, neither had thought to look for the purple feathers. |

| Word Count: 1,706. |

———

| A/N: I'll try and keep this short and sweet but it's nice to dip back into writing for Maribat, I really missed it whilst I was gone. Also I've now got a author's channel in MGI where I sometimes put title sneak peaks, snippets, and random au ramblings, so y'know feel free to pop into the channel and have a gander if you'd fancy! And one last thing, keen eyes may have noticed I've added a Spotify Playlist Link, it contains all the songs I listened to when working on this oneshot, if you're curious! |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Marinette staggers back, clutching at her bloodied side as the world spins for a moment and everything blurs. Breath catches in her throat as a sharp pang of betrayal pierces her heart, tears springing to the corners of her eyes unbidden. Whimpering, she barely manages to cry out, “J–Jason?”

Heartbreak coating his name like the truth serum-poison making its way through her system at this very moment.

She makes an awful choking noise and collapses to her knees, scrunching her face up and wheezing. Barely is she able to keep her eyes open, fixated on staring at someone she thought she could trust.

Smirking lazily, Jason saunters up to her, crouches and then grabs her face by the chin, forcing her to tilt her head up to continue staring at him in the eyes. “Aw, did you really fucking think I cared about you this entire time?”

Marinette swallows thickly—unable to conjure up a response to him. Black spots start to form in the corner of her vision like watching a spattering of embers burning away on a piece of paper.

He tilts his head to the side and snorts, “really? Nothing to say, no heartfelt "I trusted you!" or "you're lying!". Not even a "I know the real you is still in there?", how fucking pathetic.”

There's a small part of her brain that starts flashing red lights and wailing alarms—warning her that she's in danger, that she's hurt, that she's stopped breathing. She can't breathe, can't move, can't say anything or she'll spill all her remaining secrets.

Jason sighs and drops her chin. “And here I fucking thought your shitty-ass reaction to me betraying you would be more fun.”

Grimacing, she waits a heartbeat after he lets go before mustering all her strength to slam her skull into his—if I'm going down, you're coming with me for this, Marinette mentally vows.

There's a horrendous thwacking sound as the impact lands, and Marinette feels as though her brain has turned into a blender that just had its blades snap mid blend.

Jason, on the other hand, flings himself backwards and curses up a storm. He pulls out one of his guns and with dizzying vision, manages to shoot a bullet that just clips the uninjured side of her ribs. “That's what you fucking get for that you bitch!”

Marinette doubles over as the pain seems to ricochet through her; vision blacking out completely. She struggles for breath, her hearing cutting off not a second later. Objectively, she's aware she's not alone. But as her senses shut down one by one, leaving her helplessly trapped in her own mind, she can't help but wonder why her heart aches with loneliness. I'm sorry, she silently apologises to no one and everyone.

Distantly, she thinks she's swaying—or collapsing again maybe. But it's hard to tell, it's disorientating trying to focus on the world with dying senses.

Marinette is lost. Every little movement, every little thought—it's agony, a struggle to keep going, keep holding on. Once more, she silently pleas for forgiveness from the kwami.

She stops.

Stops breathing. Heart stops beating. Stops fighting. It all stops.

At least this way, she thinks to herself, I can't spill any secrets from the truth serum-poison if I carry them to the grave instead…

She sinks into the darkness, clinging to her final thought in numb relief as she does so. Everything fades away.

———

Jason groans as the knife Marinette is wielding digs deeper between his ribs.

She doesn't move back immediately, so he grits his teeth and roundhouse kicks at her—the heavy thump of collision makes his wound burn like acid has just been poured on it.

He's a few seconds too slow pulling his leg back, as Marinette slices the knife through his calf.

“Fuck!” He bites out, throwing himself further out of her range and breathing. “Marinette!”

With the gall to smile faux-innocently, she plays with the knife in her hand, slipping it between her fingers and swirling it about. “Yes, Jason?”

“The fuck are you doing!?” He growls, shifting his position when she doesn't move to apply pressure to the calf wound.

She shrugs, seemingly unbothered, “what? Did you really think this wouldn't happen one day? That I wouldn't get sick of you. Show you just how much you've hurt me the entire time we've known each other?”

Jason spits blood from his mouth at the warehouse floor in front of her. “I don't believe whatever shit you're being made to spew, but I sure as fucking hell know that you'd never do something as fucked up as this.”

“Oh, that's cute! You still believe in me. What's next, are you going to beg me to come to my senses? Are you going to cry my name and hope it changes my mind? Are you going to declare that the "real" me is still there inside and that you're going to save me?” Marinette giggles, high-pitched and yet hollow sounding.

Jason flinches at the sound, breathing stuttering as the poison from her knife starts to really seep in. Shit, he thinks to himself, truth serum-poison. If I'm not careful I'm gonna say shit that should stay secret.

A flash of silver catches the edge of his vision. And it's all the warning he gets. He immediately ducks and rolls, cursing under his breath as his wounds are aggravated. The air by his hair swooshes as the blade just narrowly misses.

Marinette giggles taper off into a hiss of fury. Her hair slips out of her pigtails from the constant movement, and multiple strands fall in front of her face. She huffs, ineffectively blowing them out of the way. “Did you really think I ever loved you?”

“Yes!” The words are choked out of his mouth before he can even think, the truth serum-poison kicking in hard and fast. Jason wheezes and the taste of iron lingers like malice in his throat. Fuck, he thinks desperately, I'm running out of time and Marinette isn't snapping out of whatever the fuck's been done to her.

He stumbles into another roll, as the blade comes swinging at him again. His vision blurts violently, and the next thing Jason knows—is that his view has suddenly tipped upside down and that there's a throbbing ache radiating from the back of his shoulders and head.

“Huh, you really do have a thick skull. Normally that'd be enough to knock anyone else out. Well, I guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way.” Marinette rambles, pulling out a rag.

Jason grunts as he pushes himself only to be slammed back into the concrete warehouse floor, rag pressed firmly over his mouth and nose.

He thrashes and refuses to inhale. Marinette scowls and kicks him sharply into the ribs, causing him to gasp through gritted teeth. But it's enough to affect him.

His vision teeters then flickers to black, he can feel his movements slowing—becoming more and more sluggish until he's as still as he was in that fucking coffin he's had to crawl out of once before. At least, he barely manages to cling to the final thought, I can't spill any secrets if I carry them to the grave once more.

And then it all fades away.

———

Lila steeples her finger and smirks. She's sitting in her plain white office for the Agreste, three monitors set up before her on the desk. The middle screen shows her emails and a few tabs up on fashion for work-related reasons. The outer two screens, however, show the feed to two identical cells—two by four by five metres with cement floors and grey brick walls, no windows and a single plain black metal door. No furniture either, not even beds or toilets, just chains attached to the wall opposite the door. And in the chains is what has Lila so very happy indeed; Marinette and Jason, one in each cell and both stuck in the chains with no hope for escape.

A steady pool of blood has already formed beneath the both of them, thanks to the wonderful work of her Sentimonster duplicates of the two.

Lila can't help but monologue in her glee, “It's so excellently simple really. Even if one escapes, there's no way they'll help the other escape now. Now they've experienced the pain of betrayal and torture inflicted by the other!”

Footsteps approach the door to her office; all it takes is a quick click and click of the mouse and her two outer screen feeds flip to showing more work-related tabs and emails.

The door opens to reveal Adrien, slightly dishevelled—hair and shirt ruffled, eyes red with dark bags beneath them, and shiny tear streaks down his cheeks—he stands in the threshold, shaking. “Did you know?”

Lila smiles in fake confusion. “Know what?”

Adrien swallows, gaze flickering to her screens. “Marinette's dead. So is Jason.”

Lila tilts her head to the side to make it look as though she's thinking. “The Wayne boy that was close to her, right? Oh dear.”

His tired gaze turns back to Lila as he continues. “They think both of them were kidnapped and tortured separately. Police have found traces of an altered truth-serum among the bloodstains and…” He chokes for a second, grief plain as day across his face. “and they found pieces of fingers, ears, slices of skin, and all.”

“Oh, oh, that's horrible!” Lila gasps, covering her mouth with her hands to hide the victorious curl forming on her lips. “Have they found out who was cruel enough to do that to them yet?”

Adrien shakes his head silently.

“Hopefully, the culprit will be found soon. But if you need any support, I'll always be here for you, Adrien!” Lila gravely announces, bobbing her head slightly as she spoke.

He narrows his eyes at her, shakes his head, and then stalks away from her office.

She scowls as soon as his back turns and gets up to shut her door. “Well,” She says to herself as she flips back to the cell feed, “at least that means I'll have plenty of time to pull the secrets from you two without the police thinking to look for you alive.”

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Also feel free to send me any asks or comments with any questions you have regarding this oneshot, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #DC x MLB #MLB x DC #Jasonette #Jasonette July #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July 2021 #Jasonette July Saturday Challenge #Jasonette July Hurt No Comfort #Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture #YSPEWF #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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oddshelbyout · 3 years

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Catch The Sun // John Shelby X Fem!Reader

Summary: You were going to cook for your boyfriend John but he has different plans for your night together:

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1248

Taglist: @comebackjessica

Author’s Notes:

This is really really fluffy. I’ve been struggling to write because of a minor depressive episode and everything I tried to write was filled with angst. Writing this was refreshing and it warmth my heart. I hope it will warmth yours too

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work so please let me know if I make any mistakes or anything I can fix in my writing.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

———————

The day was coming to an end. You were walking back home from shopping, it was time to prepare dinner. You promised your boyfriend, John, that you’d make dinner for him.

The weather was unusually good, there were no clouds to be seen. You decided to take the long way home and enjoy the good weather. You were really excited to cook for John, you barely had to make spare time for each other.

Going home through the back alleys would normally give you anxiety but the bright day was blocking that worry. They were still kind of dangerous but at least it wasn’t dark.

You were humming a song from that new vinyl John gifted you recently. The bright sky was giving you so much energy that you weren’t ready for the sun to fall down.

When you got to the alley at the back of your home, two big hands covered your eyes. You dropped the bag on the floor. You didn’t panic, the anxiety you would have if this happened at night wasn't there. It was comforting to know if anyone looked out of their windows, they would see.

You quickly stomped on the foot of the person covering your eyes. At the same time you grabbed the knife strapped on your thigh, hidden behind your dress. The person groaned and dropped their hands. You turned to them and softly put the knife on their stomach. You didn’t look at their face.

“What the fuck?” you noticed the person’s voice and looked to their face. It was John. “John? Why would you do that?” you put the knife back on the strap.

“I wanted to surprise you!” he said, you were kind of angry. “For what?” you asked, “You have a key, you could wait for me inside!” he chuckled.

“There’s nothing to laugh at, you scared me.” he really did scare you. “At least now I’m sure that you can use the knife I gifted you.” John said and that made you smile.

“I still don’t understand why you did that but alright.” you rolled your eyes. “Is your foot okay?” you asked, you had just realised you stomped on his foot.

“Yeah I’m okay, I’m lucky you weren’t wearing heels.” he smiled and you smiled back at him. You bent down carefully to grab the bag on the floor.

“Come on Johnny Boy, I have a meal to cook.” you said, suggesting to go home. “No you don’t, leave the bag home, I have somewhere to take you.” John said, he seemed excited about taking you wherever he planned to.

You looked at his face with a blank impression, “Also please don’t call me that.” he said. The corners of your lips curled again, you nodded slowly. “I wanted to cook but okay.” you started walking and he followed you.

You got home quick and left the bag in, you followed John back to outside. “Where are we going?” you asked him after you saw he was walking to his car.

“To watch the sunset.” he said simply, you took a deep breath. “Now come on! We have to catch the sun before it’s gone!” he said enthusiastically. You had never seen him this excited. That place seemed to be special for him.

“Okay, let’s catch the sun then.” you got in the car. He started driving as fast as the car could, you were in a rush to get there before the sun started coming down.

You drove into the woods, the road started getting bumpy. The air started getting more chilly and the smell of the trees gave you peace. You were both silent through the whole ride but it was natural. John seemed to be really excited but didn’t have something exact to say either.

You stopped right at the beginning of a hill, the car obviously couldn’t go up there. You left the car and started walking on the hill. “I feel like I’m gonna love this.” you said while climbing up. You were both slowly getting out of breath. “You will.” he said and smirked.

When you finally reached the top of the hill, the sun was already slowly coming down but the sky wasn’t close to getting dark yet.

“We catched the sun.” you said, “As planned.” he said softly. Both of you felt at ease but John still seemed to not get over his excitement. You couldn’t understand why. Sure, the view was great and being in the company of each other gave you the best feeling. He still seemed to be over excited.

“You know this was my favourite place as a kid.” John said softly, you turned your glaze to him. His face was brighter than the sun at that moment, he was smiling softly and the golden light of the sun reflected on his face.

“I came here whenever I wanted to be alone but now.” he stopped, he looked at you and held your hand. You didn’t know what to say or if you had anything to say at all.

The warmth of his hand made you feel safe. You couldn’t even look at the sunset because you felt much better looking at him. At that moment the beauty of the sunset couldn’t go over the beauty of John.

“Now I have you and I wanna share this hill with you.” your eyes teared up. Nobody had ever said such a thing to you, it was heartwarming. At that moment you felt your love for him stronger than ever.

“I love you so much.” you said sincerely, he squeezed your hand. “That’s why I want you to marry me.” he said. “What?” you bursted out, you didn’t expect it at all.

“I love you.” he said, you now understood why he was so excited about bringing you here. “Will you marry me Y/N and be Y/N Shelby?” he asked, you took a deep breath. “Yes, yes I will.” you hugged him.

This was the happiest moment of your life. You were going to marry the love of your life. You had waited fır a love like his for a long time. The love you waited for was finally here and he wanted to share a life with you

“Do you think the kids will accept me?” you asked, worrying whether John’s kids would welcome you or not. “Don’t worry about it, they’ll adore you. They know how much I love you.” he said while you rested your head on his shoulder.

You put your head back up, “I’m the happiest woman on the planet.” you said with a huge smile. That was the moment when he couldn’t contain himself anymore and kissed you.

It wasn’t the best kiss you shared, it wasn’t necessarily passionate but it was sincere. You felt safe with his soft lips met yours. The sun was going down behind you but you didn’t care because your sun was John and you believed he would never come down.

You parted with him, “I don’t want to go back home.” you said. “Let’s still be here until it’s dark.” he suggested, you loved the idea. He sat down on the grass, you placed next to him. Then you lied on his lap, his hands brushed your hair.

You started to talk about your future and what it might bring you. You forgot about dinner because now you knew you would be cooking for him every evening until eternity.

#peaky blinders #john shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders oneshot #john shelby oneshot #peaky blinders x reader #john shelby x reader #peaky blinders x you #john shelby x you #peaky blinders x y/n #john shelby x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby imagine #joe cole

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fandomscombine · 4 years

Text

TUA Series Part 3: Luther

The Hargreeves Kerfuffle Part 3: Luther

The Hargreeves siblings x Hargreeves!Reader (Familial Relationship)

BG: The Reader is Number Eight. It follows how you fit into the structure of Season 1 and the family dynamic of the siblings.

This part follows and plays around with the scene when Five had just reappeared and all the sibling are in the kitchen in S1.

I have mashed up the information and some events from both the comics and the tv series.

The series will consist of 10 parts. Where the reader would have a focused interaction with each sibling. (Eg. After this part, it would be Luther x Reader, then Diego x Reader and so on! –Yes Ben is included)

WC: 1028

Contains: The Hargreeves being a mess. Luther being a piece of shit.

DISCLAIMER: I DON’T OWN THE TUA SERIES. THIS IS JUST BY A FAN WOULD REALLY ENJOYED THE SERIES AND WAS INSPIRED TO WRITE.

*ALSO NOT PROOFREAD

>>GENERAL MASTERLIST<<

>>THE HARGREEVES KERFUFFLE SERIES MASTERLIST<<

READ: [PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 4]

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

Five isn’t willing to answer any of your and siblings’ questions until he had something to eat. Which lead to the 7 of you following him into the kitchen. You were all huddled around the end of the table watching silently as Five gathers for food, blipping in and out of the room.

No one dared to break the moment, still shocked and processing that Five, looking a tad older than you last saw him at 10 years old, but a young looking Five nonetheless, is here right now. Still not exactly believing.

‘What’s the date? The exact date.’ Five asks.

‘The 24th’ says Allison behind you.

‘Of what?’

Allison’s brows scrunches together but replies regardless. ‘March.’

‘Good.’ Five nods and continues adding marshmallow to his peanut butter sandwich, as if his question was totally normal.

‘So…’ Luther clears his throat, voicing out the question brewing in everyone’s mind. ‘Are we gonna talk about what just happened? It’s been 17 years.’

Five huffs, ‘It’s been a lot longer than that.’ Bliping out again, this time in the pantry, no doubt looking for coffee.

Causing Luther to almost jump out of his chair ‘I haven’t missed that.’

‘Where’d you go?’ Diego asks, moving the conversation back on track.

‘The future.’ Five mentions matter of factly. ‘It’s shit, by the way.��

‘Called it!’ Klaus whispered. You pushed Klaus’ head away, eager to not miss out on anything.

‘I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.’ Five mutters, though more to himself. The tension in the room is so tense, that even if a needle were to drop, you would still hear it.

Unfortunately for you, you did.

‘get out of the way y/n! i don’t want to see your face anymore.’

Five’s final words came rushing back and so did the pain. It’s been years since the incident, and you’ve convinced yourself that you had made peace with it. But seeing Five back here, in the present, stuck in his teenage self.

Shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind. NO Y/N NO! He hurt you when he left. You shouldn’t fell guilty for him disappearing, it was his choice, his action to do what he did. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you attempted to discreetly brush away the water from your eyes. Which of course, the ever protective, Mr. Hero Complex noticed.

‘heyyy it’s okay.’ Diego whispers, wrapping you into a warm side hug.

‘Thank you Diegs.’ Leaning your head into his shoulder.

‘Wait, how did you get back?’ utters Vanya.

‘In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.’

‘That makes no sense’ said Diego.

Five couldn’t help but roll his eyes. ‘Well, it would if you were smarter.’

Diego abruptly stands, ready to fight Five- Luther holds him back. ‘How long were you there?’

’45 years.’ That finally made Diego to stop resisting Luther’s grip. Five smiles into his coffee, noticing everyone’s startled face, he shrugs ‘ Give or take.’

Luther tilts his head, perplexed ‘So what are you saying? You’re 58?’

‘No, my consciousness is 58.’ Five points to his brain, then stands. ‘Apparently, my body is now 13 again.’ To drive the pint home, he flings his arms. The oversized suit jacket falling to his elbows.

Vanya looks to the rest of you, hoping to see to anyone else understands. ‘Wait, how does that even work?’

‘Delores kept saying the equations were off. Eh. Bet shes laughing now’ Five murmurs, for a second lost in thought. ‘So, heart failure huh.’

‘Yeah. That’s what the doctor-’ Responded Diego.

‘No.’ said Luther firmly.

‘Yes, Luther. Dad died of heart failure whether you believe it or not.’ You interjected. ‘How many times do I have to tell you this, there is no foul play.’

‘Oh yea? Then why is dad’s monocle missing? When we all know that he keeps it with him at all times?? Huh?’ By Luther is rising off his seat.

‘Luther calm down.’ Warned Allison but he brushes her off.

‘Humor me this y/n. Why were you here the day dad died?’ He was now jabbing a finger at you ‘More specifically, HOURS BEFORE HE DIED. CONVENIENTLY PRESENT IN THE SCENE OF THE CRIME.’

Before you could reply, Vanya beat you to it. ‘Are you daft Luther? Did you forget that y/n can SEE INTO THE FUTURE?’

‘I didn’t. But as I recall, you vowed t never step foot into this house ever again and cut all ties! YOU ALL LEFT! YOU LEFT ME BEHIND!’

At this statement, Diego let out laugh. ‘Left you behind? LEFT YOU BEHIND? We were all gonna leave this depressing piece of crap for a healthier life, you were part of it, Luther.’ Staring straight into his eyes. ‘BUT YOU ARE THE ONE THAT RATTED US OUT AND CHOSE TO STAY! SO, DON’T YOU DARE TURN THIS ON US.’

‘Heck yes you all vowed to not come back, but you did- because Dad had died. But don’t you think it’s suspicious that she would come here on her own accord early? Who knows what they could have talked about in his final hours?? She was even the one to inform us! Not mom, not pogo. Her.’ Not daring to break the stare down, Luther called out ‘There is only one way to know the truth…. Allision.’

‘NO, Luther! I am not doing that to my own sister, not after Claire.’

‘FINE, GUESS I HAD TO FIND PROOF THE OLD-FASHIONED WAY.’ With that, Luther turns his back on his siblings.

He pauses next to you and threatens. ‘I swear y/n, I will find out what you did and I would get Allision to Rumour the truth out of you, soon or later.’ On his way out, he had ripped the door out of its hinges.

‘Hmm” Five clicks tongue ‘Nice to see nothing’s changed.’

‘Uh that’s it?’ Allision crosses her arms. ‘That’s all you have to say?’

‘What else is there to say? The circle of Life.’

END OF PART 3

READ: [PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 4]

Taglist [All]: @gruffle1

Taglist [TUA]:@herecomesthesun1969 @alabaster1223 @ultraviolet-m @winterierwriter @lordofthunderthr @grapesauze @xbarrjallenx @white-wolf-buckaroo @yoheyyosup @infinitystones2018 @94seun @buckynatlarry @thegirlwholikestomanythings @just-some-stars @97yrm @2cuteforyourlies @e-bendy @criminallyhamilton @aqarath @change-the-world-someday @sambucky8 @spankin-soda @big-galaxy-chaos @neenieweenie

@okimreadynow @weird-pale-blonde-person @thebloodrobin @vicassa

Feel free to tell me to you want to be tagged for the series or for all/any other of my fics.

Would love to hear your opinion on the series so far too!

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wolfpawn · 4 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 155

Chapter Summary - Danielle and Tom spend their two weeks by the seaside enjoying themselves and thinking over what they plan for the future.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

Danielle inhaled deeply and stuck her head under the water again, pulling herself through the waves for as long as felt comfortable before taking another deep breath of air and continuing.

Having calculated how far she needed to swim to meet her training requirements the day previous, she checked her watch and made for the shoreline. Pulling herself from the water, she smiled at seeing Tom waiting for her with Mac on the beach.

“Do you need a rest before we start?” He smiled, handing her the pair of shoes she had given to him for after her swim.

“No rest on the day, come on.” She smiled back as she put them. “And remember I have small legs.”

Laughing, Tom turned to head to the road. “And you just did a mile and a half swim.” He added.

“That too.” Danielle laughed as they jogged off, Mac in tow.

“Am I going too fast?” Tom asked as Danielle increased her speed halfway through their run.

“I need to push myself.” She declared as she continued.

Mac trotted happily beside them, elated at the early morning run as the hot days meant he and Bobby were forced to hide in the shade and cool tiled floor of the house. Bobby was still too young to go jogging so he was safely back at the house with Poppy, asleep in his bed.

For seven miles, Tom and Danielle ran a fast enough pace before coming to the carpark they had left the car in beside the beach once more. When they came to a halt, Tom inhaled deeply. “Is the route that uneven on the day?” He asked, referencing the Ironman.

“Not that they have given the maps for, no. But if you are prepared for shitty terrain, then easy terrain will be simple.” Danielle informed him. “Did you talk to your cousins, about your aunt?”

“Yes, Laura will be making more of an effort to get her to settle down with her badgering yet spend time with her, sans Rupert.”

“Good, it's not healthy to be more obsessed with your dog than your children.” She stretched her leg out. “I am going to walk the dogs tomorrow at this time, are you coming?”

“Yep.” Tom smiled loving the idea of an early morning walk. “I can't wait to see what Bobby makes of the water here.”

“He's a spaniel, chances are he'll have to be forcibly removed from it.”

Tom laughed at her words. “Most likely, yes.” He placed Mac in the car and tied his harness to the belt clip to keep him safe. “Elle?” Danielle looked at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Taking the time from work to come here, for getting your work and ignoring it rather than cutting into our time with my extended family.”

“I need to balance my home and work life. You matter more to me than that job. I love my job, I really do but between you and it, you win.” She leant up and kissed him.

Tom was taken back, not by the show of affection or even the declaration, though both were bold but the fact that it was outdoors, anyone could see them and she dismissed it all to reassure him that her love for him was more important than being seen by some bottom feeding photographer. “You wouldn't risk your happiness at work for us too much though, would you?”

Danielle's brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“Well, if it was us or being a Safety officer?”

“Depends on the circumstances. If I was being forbidden by you to work, then no, I wouldn't allow it. If it was a choice of it and you and it was dragging me from what makes me happy then I'd drop it like it's hot.” She shrugged. “Why?”

“Just asking.” He stated, going to the back seat of the car to get her a towel as she was still damp from her swim before their run.

“I worry with some of your questions sometimes. It always feels like there's more to them.” She commented before taking the towel. “Thank you.”

“I am a normal person who on occasion asks odd questions when I think of them, the same as every other person on the planet.” Tom defended before getting into the driver's seat. Danielle said nothing else before getting in the passenger side. “I am also considering upgrading my car.”

“Is there an upgraded version of free?”

Tom chuckled. “Not that I'm aware.”

“Up to yourself.” Danielle shrugged. “But don't go too mad, this thing already takes up a lot of the driveway, so no stretch Hummer or something similar.”

“Well, that's my plans ruined.” Tom laughed as they headed back to the house as Danielle laughed beside him.

Over the first week, Danielle and Tom spent the most of it in the company of his family, knowing that the following week, they would have the place to themselves.

Danielle spent time with Diana and Emma mostly, but also Sarah on occasion. She insisted that she would mind the Duchess while they went out for tea but the Hiddleston women were disgusted at the mere thought and instead told her that their fathers would mind both girls, that she was to come also.

Tom spent time being an uncle, something he did not get to do with enough regularity in his opinion. With his busy work schedule, he had not been able to invest as much time in being there for his older niece as he wanted but for the week they were on the one house, he ensured that he played with her and spent time getting his younger niece used to his face. In fact, Lucy beamed brightly at her silly faced uncle when he came over and acknowledged her. He also spent time with Jack and Yakov; as again, his busy life meaning he rarely saw them. His sisters he was more often in the company of but that did not indicate that they often met.

Come the end of the first week, the family was saddened to be going their separate ways once more, even with an argument or two, as is natural, the week was incredibly pleasant.

Saying goodbye to the family, Tom and Danielle relished in the fact they had another week to enjoy the seaside.

“Stop bragging.” Emma growled as she hugged Danielle close.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You don't need to, I can see the look on your face.”

“I will be back next week for the wedding.” Danielle promised.

“You don't…”

“I'll be there.” She reiterated. “You want to go to this. Diana and I will spoil Lucy in your absence.”

“Thank you.” Jack smiled, giving her a hug also. “We will see you then.”

“Drive safe.” Tom grinned, joining them.

“And you two better not get up to too much mischief.” Jack joked.

“Damn, they're onto us.” Danielle joked. “No parties.” She held her hand up like she was swearing an oath.

To a chorus of laughs, Danielle and Tom said goodbye to the last of the Hiddleston clan to leave, leaving them to the large home for them and their dogs.

As soon as Emma and Jack's car left the drive, went down the road and out of sight, Tom and Danielle walked back inside. By the time Tom had closed the front door and turned around, Danielle had taken off the open plaid shirt she had been wearing over a string top. “I need to find shorts to wear.” She commented, playfully grinning at Tom. “Or perhaps just my panties and bra.” Tom's eyes widened. “I think I brought those black ones, didn't….oh I'm wearing them.”

“If you are just teasing me…”

“Come upstairs and find out.” She smiled, sashaying her hips as she went up the stairs.

Tom barely locked the front door before rushing up after her, scooping her into his arms when they got to the top of the stairs before carrying her to the bedroom and placing her on the bed, kissing her as he did while leaning over her, her hands going immediately to his ass.

“Elle?”

“No, I'm not getting up.” She groaned, curling into the pillow.

“What about walking the boys?”

Danielle sighed before forcing herself to stretch. “Fine.”

They got ready in relative quiet before grabbing the dogs and getting into the car.

Usually, Tom had no issue with driving but he requested that Danielle do so specifically. It was odd but Danielle had no issue doing so. She noticed Tom seemed somewhat distracted on their journey but said nothing. On their walk, though he spoke on occasion, it was clear Tom was thinking of other things.

They got to the place that both Tom and Danielle swore they would go on a non-training day, on top the cliffs that showed the beautiful white-rocked coastline that made the section of Southern England so iconic, both making comments of the beautiful scenery as they walked.

“These are the places that make you think about life.” Danielle smiled, sighing as she looked at the sun, though still only half way to rising in the clear sky, the water glistening below and the cliffs looking radiantly white.

“And what do you find yourself thinking of it?” Tom inquired.

“Just how happy I am. The weather is good, it's a lovely few days break, this place is so beautiful, I really enjoyed having your family around for a couple of days, work is ticking by well with the new office and we are doing really incredibly, I think anyway, and I can honestly say, overall, I am really happy.” She smiled, looking to Tom to see his reaction.

For his part, Tom felt elated at the analogy of her life and her happiness with him. “So you never regret moving in with me?”

“Well, the toilet seat thing drives me barmy at four in the morning, but no, I don't.” She professed. “What about you, are you happy?”

“More so than I thought possible. Two years ago...Jesus, when I think back…”

“Don't, don't think back, no one wants to think back to that.” Danielle laughed.

“I am so grateful for how things turned out, how we turned out.”

“Do you think if worth it? Your summer of madness?”

“I do now.” He nodded. Tom smiled at her before looking across the water. “I think back two years and also wonder what lies ahead.”

“We all do that. I think back to two years ago. I loved being a paramedic, being able to help people but I love my work more now and the more I do, the more I think of. Say a year from now and how much more I will have learnt, how much more we will have done together.” Danielle's smile was a content one as she thought of perhaps having a similar conversation with Tom in a year's time atop the cliffs again, that would be something to covet in her opinion. “What about you?”

“Something similar.” Tom confessed, startled as to how Danielle had turned the conversation to the future, something he had wanted to discuss with her. “But I hope to see other new things in it too.”

“Such as?”

Tom inhaled deeply and forced himself to say what he had been thinking over for longer than he would care to admit. “Well, given how long Irish people seem to like to have engagements, I hope that perhaps we could be discussing the final requirements for a wedding.”

Danielle frowned, having been listening to Tom's words as she looked out to the ocean as she processed them but on that statement, she turned and faced Tom again, startled to see him at her nervously before getting on one knee with a ring box open in his hand. “What?” her voice shook from what she was seeing.

“Danielle Constance Hughes, would you please consider doing me the immense honour of becoming my wife?”

#i hate you i love you #chapter 155 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn

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robinskey · 5 years

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In My Mind (Steve x Hopper! Reader)

Request: Steve Harrington x hopper!reader where the reader has mind reading powers?

A/N: I was trying to find a way to connect the reader to the MKUltra experiments (like maybe her mom was an unknowingly pregnant test subject, like Terry Ives), but the timelines didn’t add up. So the reader is the daughter of Hopper and his ex-wife and older sister of the late Sara Hopper. I like the way it turned out, so hopefully you do, too! Thanks for requesting, anon. :)

Any text in italics are the thoughts of others.

Warnings: Some language (it’s all Stevie Babey’s fault, though, so you can’t be too mad about it)

“Are you excited for your first day of high school?”

The words are spoken by your father, who’s driving with the wheel in one hand a cigarette in the other. A thin haze of smoke clouds both the air and your esophagus. Usually, you’d chide him for his unhealthy vice. This time, however, you let it slide; he needed the nicotine to calm his nerves.

When your dad initially offered to drop you off on the first day of the new semester, you resisted. After all, you had your own car, and, considering you’d been able to navigate the big city for most of your life without incident, you were pretty sure you could find your way to Hawkins High. (Besides, as you’d told your father, “the new kid already starts at the bottom of the food chain, even without her daddy dropping her off.”)

If you were any other moody teenager, you probably would have insisted on driving yourself. In fact, that’s what you were about to do when you felt an overwhelming wave of guilt and disappointment wash over you. The emotions weren’t your own; they belonged to your father. Yet, the feeling was strong enough for you to sense without even trying. Dad plastered a fake smile on his face, but his disheartened thoughts bounced around your head.

God, you idiot, she’s a senior in high school. Of course she doesn’t want her old man around when she’s trying to make new friends. You’ve already missed your opportunity to be there for all her “firsts”.

“Actually, you know what? It might be nice to have a chauffeur,” you said.

You’ll never forget how wide he beamed.

Thus, when he refers to the start of your eighth semester of high school as your “first day,” you happily play along.

“I’m excited for a fresh start,” you say, watching as the car passes by a frost-covered field. Despite the bitter cold, the sun shines down on the earth. Bright white patches of snow glitter in the light.

“Me, too, kid.”

Your father’s uncharacteristically quiet tone draws your attention to him. He stares back at you with glimmering irises. You don’t need to tap into this mind to know exactly what he’s thinking-or, more precisely, what he’s thinking about.

***

Once upon a time, you had been relatively close with your father. Your mother worked long hours at the office, trying to climb the corporate ladder, so you saw him a lot more often than you did her. He helped you and Sara with your homework and coached your softball team; the two of you were certified daddy’s girls.

Then, tragedy struck: Your sweet little sister was diagnosed with cancer. Despite their best efforts, the doctors couldn’t save her. Sara’s death wounded your mother deeply, but it destroyed your father. The deep depression into which he fell led to the dissolution of their marriage.

Because your father was barely in a state of mind to take care of himself, let alone another human being, your mother received full custody in the divorce. You stayed in New York with your mother, and your father moved back to his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana. His decision to leave felt like abandonment when you needed him most.

The two of you spent five years without seeing each other in person. You rarely even spoke over the phone, unless he drunkenly dialed you or you called him-which, after he repeatedly answered with slurred speech, you eventually stopped doing. He missed holidays and birthdays, only occasionally sending a card in the mail, which often arrived several months late, and never invited you to visit.

All that changed in the fall of 1984, when your father invited you “home” for Thanksgiving break. He even offered to pay for your flight to Indiana. Hoping to mend your relationship, you agreed, headed to the airport after school, and arrived in Indiana that same day. Your father was waiting for you at the gate with a cheesy grin and a container of your favorite candy. After a tight embrace and a waterfall of shared tears, you spent the next few days catching up on five years of lost time. He introduced you to El, showed you around Hawkins, and took you to all his favorite places to get a bite to eat. You quickly understood why your dad had wanted to return to this little town; at the end of the trip, you didn’t want to leave it.

“I want to move here,” you told your father on your last night in Hawkins.

“You can always stay with me.”

He didn’t realize you were seriously you took that offer until you called him a few weeks later.

“You actually want to come live with me?” he asked, shock evident in his tone.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Don’t you want to wait until graduation?”

It sounded like your father didn’t want you to move. But, as Dad later told you, he wanted you to come to Hawkins more than anything. He just wanted to make sure you were thinking things through-that this was actually what you wanted, not what you thought you should do.

“I’ll stay here until the end of the semester,” you said, “but I don’t want to miss out on another six months of time I could spend with you. I can finish my senior year in Indiana.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It was what you wanted.

***

At least, it’s what you thought you wanted. The way your stomach twists into a pretzel shape as you pull up to the school makes you doubt your conviction. You ramble about your fears of being accepted as you gather your belongings.

That’s when a firm hand lands on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re going to kill it today, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dad.” You press a quick kiss to his cheek, then hop out of the car.

“And remember,” he says with a pointed finger, “if anyone treats you poorly, take note of their name. They may need to receive a visit from the Hawkins Chief of Police sometime down the road.”

You roll your eyes, but a small smirk tugs at your lips.

“Bye, Sheriff!” you call over your shoulder.

As you walk into the school, you swear you can feel a hundred sets of eyes boring into your soul. Anyone else would have been be able to dismiss it as their own paranoia. However, you could hear the thoughts of your peers even louder than their whispers.

Who is that?

Was that the Sheriff’s car?

Where did she come from?

The rapid-fire unspoken questions continue for the rest of the day. When the bell rings for lunch, you start to panic. If there’s one thing more terrifying than starting in a new school where you know no one, it’s walking into a high school cafeteria when you have no one to sit with.

Thankfully, a curly-haired girl from your homeroom spots you in the hallway. She invites you to her table with a friendly grin that makes you feel instantly at ease. You chat as you make your way through the lunch line.

After you get your trays, Nancy leads you to a corner of the cafeteria where two guys are already sitting across from each other, making casual conversation. The one facing you has pale skin and terrible posture. He greets Nancy warmly and smiles at you politely. After his initial reaction of who the hell is this, his thoughts turn more positive: Another girl for Nancy to befriend. That could be good for her.

“Y/N, this is my boyfriend, Jonathan,” Nancy says, taking a seat next to him.

That’s when the second boy finally turns around.

Big, brown eyes lock onto yours. They’re framed by thick, dark lashes. Other than a few freckles, his rosy complexion is blemish-free. And that hair-his mane is composed of fluffy brunette curls that simply defy gravity.

You’re really glad he can’t read your mind because you can’t stop thinking about how you’ve never seen a human so...pretty.

Luckily for you, he’s thinking the same thing.

Damn, she’s gorgeous. Why have I never seen her before? Oh, shit-I’m staring. Come on, Steve get it together. It’s just a girl, and you’re-you’re King Steve Harrington.

“King Steve Harrington”? Does this guy really call himself that? You chew on the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. Steve licks his cotton-candy pink lips nervously.

God, how is she that beautiful?

“I’m Steve,” he says. “Steve Harrington.”

“I know,” you blurt out.

Steve tilts his head at a slight angle, confused as an untrained dog being told to sit.

“I, uh-I know your name’s Steve,” you say, which is true. “Nancy told me.”

Did I?

Before Nancy can ask her question out loud, you gesture to the empty spot next to Steve.

“Can I sit?”

Steve nods, scooting over a bit to make room. Your arm brushes his as you slide onto the bench. Your skin burns, and you’re not sure if it’s due to your own flustered attitude or the heat radiating from Steve. There’s half a beat of silence; even the internal dialogue dies down for a moment. Then, Nancy and Jonathan launch into a discussion about the fourth-period pop quiz. You quickly tune out of their conversation and into the thoughts of the boy next to you.

How long do you have to know a girl before you ask her out?

While no bullies will be receiving a visit from your father, you have a sinking feeling that the sheriff will be having words with a particular student at Hawkins High in the near future.

Tag list: @novaddictx @anabundance0ffand0ms @readinthegarden12 @broadwayandnetflix

If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. <3

If you want to check out more of my writing, here’s my masterlist. :)

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phoenixrisesoncemore · 4 years

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I was tagged by @wangxianbunnydoodles (oh my, this is long and you might regret it; also I don’t follow instructions well 😉). I tend not to be very good at these things (sorry to anyone else who has tagged me in these kinds of things before—this is a rare event happening mostly because I wanna talk about Tolkien books and ships) but here goes:

Top 3 Ships

I don’t actively ship characters that often. I’m not sure why that is. I do enjoy reading fic with pairings either canon or not, but I don’t often go “all in” on ships in most narratives I consume. There are notable exceptions (more than three but these are the three most recent—I have no idea how to identify my top ships):

WangXian (CQL). This is surely obvious from the current state of my blog, right? I blame The Untamed and its impossibly tender, only-subtextual-by-a-hair’s-breadth romance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show express ultimate devotion, deep affection, true appreciation, complete understanding (eventually), and the sheer *necessity of the other* between two people quite like this one has. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two characters and desperately wanted them together and happy as much as I have these two, so bravo to the cast and crew for generating such second-hand devotion in me.

Silvergifting (Tolkien). This is all @thearrogantemu’s fault. I’d read some Silvergifting before I read These Gifts That You Have Given Me, mostly out of curiosity (some good stuff, too!), but I had never read any Tolkien fic that convinced me it was *true* (on many, many levels, though the ship level is the one pertinent to this post). In any canon-like universe this ship hurts, but in the Gifts universe it hurts the most; it hurts like Hell. It hurts in the way only razor-sharp, sorry-the-universe-works-this-way, oh-are-those-my-entrails-on-the-floor-I-didn’t-even-feel-the-knife tragedy can hurt. And it’s so convincing that it’s just...a fact now. Tolkien just forgot to tell us. So now I ship Silvergifting, but most deeply, specifically THAT Silvergifting. (Meanwhile, 14 year old me continues to look at *significantly* older me like I’m insane.)

ZeLink (Legend of Zelda). Deep down I’m still 12 years old and no amount of fine lines and wrinkles is going to change that. When is Breath of the Wild 2 coming out?

Last Song

I listen to soundtracks and bombastic and dramatic orchestral pieces much more often than I listen to what people mean when they say “songs,” and a significant chunk of the “songs” I listen to are from musicals/operas.

Earlier today it was Hanz Zimmer’s soundtrack to Dark Phoenix (don’t start me up on the continuing disappointment that Phoenix adaptations continue to be to me—you don’t want to hear it; even I don’t want to hear it).

Before that it was Barbra Streisand’s The Broadway Album. (I prefer her outer space cover of “Somewhere” to the actual thing. Fight me.)

Before that it was Carmina Burana (One of my favorite things ever was when we went to a live performance of Carmina Burana and a boy who couldn’t have been more than 7 years old sat in the aisle in front of us and head-banged enthusiastically through “O Fortuna.” It was so metal. You go, kid. You get it.).

Before that it was a splattering of Billy Joel hits with emphasis on “2000 Years”, “River of Dreams”, “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant”, “The Stranger”, and “Only the Good Die Young” (thanks to that outstanding WangXian interpretation!).

Of course the soundtracks to The Untamed/CQL have been on repeat for weeks around here, particularly every single iteration of “WuJi” and the flute-heavy instrumental pieces (man, those are good!).

Not long ago I had Sarah Brightman’s covers of “Figlio Perduto” from La Luna and “Glosoli” and “One Day Like This” from Dreamchaser burning through my iPhone battery (yes, I like popera).

Enya, and especially Shepherd Moons and The Track Which Shall Not Be Named has been on repeat a lot.

Last Movie

I don’t sit down to watch movies that often any more. It just takes too much stillness and undivided attention and more resistance to multi-tasking than I have. The actual last movie that I watched (in a “have it on on another screen while I work” kind of way) was Raiders of the Lost Ark, which, of course, I’ve seen umpteen times and which followed a similar rewatch of the Back to the Future trilogy. The last movie I watched completely without distraction was Book Smart; I don’t watch comedies very often, but I really enjoyed it in an “OMG, I can totally relate to this” kind of way (except for the class president thing—that would have required that I interact with other people my own age and also not be homeschooled). Before that I think it was the Tolkien biopic. Man, I still haven’t written anything about that.

Currently Reading (in order of when I started them)

Oh dear.

The Familiar: part 1, Mark Z Danielewski. *sigh* For as much as I think Danielewski is brilliant and House of Leaves is one of my favorite books ever, I’ve just not been able to get into much of his other work. It’s universally a time and energy investment to penetrate and puzzle through, and I just don’t have as much of that as I used to. House of Leaves makes that investment worth it from early on and is absolutely a page-turner once you settle in, but other than The Fifty Year Sword I’ve just not been able to get into the rest of his work. The Familiar: part 1 is supposed to be the first in a 26 part series which is currently halted at part 4, I think. Without a guarantee of all parts ever being published, I don’t think I’m ready to invest more time into part 1 and may end up abandoning it, unfortunately.

History of The Hobbit, Douglas Anderson. Anderson did what Christopher didn’t and gave The Hobbit the HoMe treatment (if a bit less literal and opaque in format). It’s fascinating (I mean, there’s the Beren and Luthien name drop you were not expecting right there in the first draft), but reading essentially the same passages with only small changes over and over can be a slog, so reading it has been an ongoing project for over a year now.

Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien’s World, Verlyn Fleiger. This is Fleiger’s look at Tolkien’s Middle-earth in light of his association with Owen Barfield. Particularly, she is examining Tolkien’s work in conjunction with Barfield’s Poetic Diction and his thoughts on language and meaning. I have not read Poetic Diction, but I probably will now since it apparently addresses language formation as related to the origin of human consciousness which is SO up my alley.

New Seeds of Contemplation, Thomas Merton. My late sister-in-law had a masters in theology from Notre Dame and became a huge Merton fan. Meanwhile, my best friend actually spent a weekend retreat at The Abbey of Gethsemani. Between hearing about him from the two of them, I developed an interest in Merton. I happened to read “Moral Theology of the Devil” a couple of years ago. It was one of the most illuminating theological things I have read and deeply inspired my own Tolkien fic-writing (let’s just say the progress there is otherwise slow). This book is a collection of pieces which happens to contain that piece, and I’ve been skipping around through it for a while now.

The Lord of the Rings reread (Tolkien, obviously). I hate this, but I am so deep in so many critical Tolkien books that I’ve not had the chance to really sit down and relax into my reread for months and months and will likely just end up starting over. Plus I want to read it concurrently with the next entry in this list and the next entry is taking longer to get through because of its format. That entry being:

The Lord of the the Rings: A Reader’s Companion, Hammond and Scull. This is a treasure trove of data and insights for those really wanting to dig critically-historically into The Lord of the Rings on a chapter-by-chapter, passage-by-passage basis. The only issue with it is that jumping back and forth between the two (as you have to: this is a reference book) tends to kill the mood of The Lord of the Rings when read as it’s meant to be read: for enjoyment!

The Power of Limits: Proportional Harmonies in Nature, Art, and Architecture, Gyorgy Doczi. This has been an ongoing read here and there since Christmas, especially as I work on two personal projects.

The Gospel in a Pluralist Society, Lesslie Newbigin. To be honest I don’t think I am going to finish this one. I like a few of the things he says, things I think are truthful and which need to be confronted in American Christian culture in particular, but it’s just too much Calvin for my taste, too many assumptions I do not share being the heretic that I am, and I spend too much time anger-notating about theology to read it with grace.

In Full Measure I Return to You, thearrogantemu. This is a reread of the (relatively) happy AU fic for my most favoritest Tolkien fic (Gifts), but I’ve put my reread on hold while I finish one of the two projects, after which I am diving in and screw the rest of this list for the time being.

Food Craving

Sushi. My kingdom for some good sushi. I’ve only had sushi once since we got back from NY and while it was the best sushi I have had locally IT WAS NOT OMAKASE AT SUSHI NOZ. It also didn’t require a personal loan to pay for, but *shrug* I’m spoiled now and will forever crave what I can no longer have.

People I’d Like To Get To Know Better

I hate tagging people in these things because I’m awkward and shy and do them so rarely myself that it feels hypocritical for me to ask it of others. That being said: if you’re a follower of my blog and you want to do this, please do! And please tag me! I’d love to get to know more about you 😊.

#getting to know you #wangxianbunnydoodles #tolkien #the untamed #movies #music #books #food

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dearlazerbunny · 5 years

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Lie to Me (Ch. 4 of ?)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 1300

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug for their amazingness.

Requested Tags: @deraniel @iamverity @yasnooshka24 @themusingsofmany@dark-night-sky-99 @wegingerangelica

“What are you reading?”

“Um-“ you glance up, forgetting where you are for a moment. SHIELD. Underground cell. Right. “Say again?”

There is a long suffering sigh from the man behind the glass. “I said, what are you reading?”

“Oh. One of my old textbooks I found in the back of my closet.” You run a hand over the page you were just leaning over. “I hated this professor so much,” you say grumpily, but there’s still a small smile on your face as you say it. “He was an absolute git.”

“Fascinating.” The derision dripping from that one word could fill Olympic-sized swimming pools.

“Do you like to read?” You offer offhandedly, trying to get him to talk about something. Anything. Two weeks of sitting in stony silence has worn on your nerves. Hence, why you brought a book to keep you company this time.

“Yes.” His fingers fidget with each other as if searching for pages to turn. “There is a library on Asgard that contains more volumes than your puny mind could comprehend.”

You ignore the jibe. You’ve practically become immune to them by now. “What’s it like? The library, I mean.”

“You wish for me to describe it to you?”

“Well, only if you want.”

“It has been weeks,” he growls. “Should you not be asking more important questions?”

“What would you rather me ask?”

“I invaded Earth with legions of soldiers intent on crushing humanity beneath my fist.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He does tend to be dramatic. “And you’re asking about libraries.”

You shrug. “The library sounds more interesting.”

Something shifts in his eyes, something you can’t identify, and he leans forward slightly towards you. “I could tell you things you have never even dreamed of,” he purrs. “Knowledge no mortal has ever been graced with.”

Well that’s a drastically different tone of voice. You close your book, marking your spot with your finger. “Like what?”

“The libraries of Asgard contain the very secrets of the universe. All of it would be at your beck and call.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific. Puny mortal mind, remember?”

“Have you ever wanted to see the future?” The god’s eyes are glowing faintly. “Discover how you die? Better yet, cheat death entirely, and learn to live forever? Or perhaps you are more interested in people bending to your every whim with a flick of your wrist. For them to lie down their backs for you to step on, rising to your rightful place. You could have everything you have ever wanted. Money. Fame. Power. Knowledge.” His voice is sinfully silky, washing over you in subtle, undulating waves like the seaside kissing the shore on a warm summer’s day. “And of course, you’d have me by your side. You will be crowned my queen, respected and feared throughout the nine realms and beyond. Plus, my eternal… adoration.” His voice drops into the realm of something obscene with that last comment. You can only imagine what that ‘adoration’ would entail.

You sit back in your chair, considering his words as you tilt your head a bit, taking in the god. “I think I’m gonna call you Trickster.”

Instantly, the suave illusion is broken, leaving behind a man with fury in his eyes. “What?”

“My boss said I couldn’t call you Your Highness,” you explain. “And I’m fairly sure you just tried to convince me to let you out of your cell in exchange for eternal power, or something. Tricky. Hence, Trickster.” You want to replace convince with seduce, because it seems more accurate, but there’s no way you’re going to say that out loud.

He growls at you. “Don’t flatter yourself. The second these ridiculous manacles were off I’d dispose of you in an instant.”

“I figured.” You flip open your book again. “But that was the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks, so feel free to continue if you’d like.”

A bang against the glass makes you look up. The god has risen from his spot on the floor, fist against the barrier in front of him. “Are you not frightened?’ He snarls. “I could snap your neck from where I stand.”

You have to fight a little to keep your breathing steady. Having a ridiculously powerful immortal being threaten you to your face is bound to pluck anyone’s nerves. “SHIELD has assured me you’re very well contained. And that those magic-suppressing handcuffs have done their job more than once.” You gesture to the metal binding his wrists. “So I think I’m okay for now.” Still, if looks could kill, you have no doubt you’d be barbecued to a crisp right about now. Eventually, he seems to get ahold of himself, and sits back down with the poise and grace you definitely wouldn’t expect from someone who’s been imprisoned for almost a month.

“You’re staring.”

Shit. You tear your gaze away. “I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are.” Even though your eyes are trained on your book, you can hear the smirk in his words. “Has my offer interested you after all?”

“Hardly. Then I’d have all of SHIELD on my back, and I don’t care what universe you’d hide me in, they’d find a way to get the Black Widow to poison my tea one way or another.”

“Then why so intrigued, little one?” When Thor said it, it was a fond gesture, almost like calling you a little sister. In the Trickster’s tone of voice, it is most definitely an insult.

You huff. “I think if all the stories you once considered pure fiction were suddenly proven true, you’d be a little curious too.”

“Ah.” The god settles back against the concrete wall behind him like he’s lounging on a chaise. “Then I take it you have heard of me?”

“After that shit you pulled in Manhattan? I guarantee you, everyone’s heard of you.”

He dismisses your retort with a wave of his hand. “I mean prior to our arrival on Earth.”

You let out a breath. “Well. Yes. I studied mythology in college. Have a couple degrees on the subject. So I was aware of you, as much as I was aware of any of the other gods and goddesses from Greek, Roman, and Germanic history.”

“I see.” The statement has a droll tone to it, but underneath you can hear a genuine curiosity. Interesting. “Is this why you fell in with this lot?” He gestures around him in what you assume to meting SHIELD.

“Yup. They wanted some archivers with knowledge in ancient cultures and religions. So here I am.” You stop cold for a moment, then look at him suspiciously. “Why the sudden interest? I already told you, I’m not gonna be coerced into doing anything for you.”

He shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly. “I am rather bored, and while you are not particularly fascinating, it seems you will be the only respite I get in my torment.”

“Wow, thanks. You sure know how to woo a girl.”

You’re surprised with a small piece of laughter from the opposite end of the room. “Indeed, I have been told many times. Though it seems Midgardians are woven from a different cloth.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Do.” Your heart stutters again. He sounds sincere, but he’s the God of Lies for Christ’s sake. He’s probably just switching tactics since his earlier plan didn’t win you over.

You’re relieved when you glance at your watch. “Time’s up for today, Trickster. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it.”

You roll your eyes on the way out the door. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Trickster.”

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thethingwewrite · 5 years

Text

Choose Your Side

Part 1: Witch?

Summary: (Y/N) didn't know what she was getting into when she found the book in her locker. Would using it be just all the fun she thought she could have or something darker than she except?

Pairing: Dean x Reader (in the future)

Word Counts: 2817

Warning: Bullying, little angst

A/N: Hey guys, here is the new fic and series, I was working on. As you know its a charmed crossover but they aren't in the first part but in the next one, the same is for Dean. There is only Bobby in this part so bar with me, I like her to discover the whole new world first then bring anyone yet. Like I said it was supposed to be a co-writer fic with @secretlyfurrydragon . She inspired me a lot and I really believed she is a great writer. Thanks to @mrswhozeewhatsis for betaing this as always she is just doing a great job with me :). I hope you will enjoy this and let me know what you think about it.

Tag: @dr-dean , @helvonasche, @wevegotworktodo, @thorne93, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @faith-in-dean, @roxy-davenport, @fangirl1802, @percywinchester27, , @girl-next-door-writes, @kittenofdoomage, @supernatural-jackles, @mysupernaturalfics, @izawrites, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings , @ariannnawinchester, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @jensen-jarpad, @secretlyfurrydragon, @thisismexxo, @wonderfulworldofwinchester, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @mrswhozeewhatsis

Spn Tag Sheet: @thinkwritexpress-official , @itsemmyb , @ezauraemmaline, @charliesbackbitches, @deandoesthingstome, @deerlululucy, @walkingencyclopediaoffandom , @gryffindorable713 , @manawhaat, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester , @supermoonpanda , @sis-tafics , @amaranthinecastiel , @becs-bunker , @meganwinchester1999 , @samanddeanwinchester67 , @ferferelli, @iridianuniverse , @the-morning-star-falls , @ackleslaugh , @fangirling-instead-of-working , @hellbentcrowley, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess , @kayteonline , @spnsimpleman, @mamaimpala@for-the-love-of-dean , @winchesterfiesta , @salvachester, @sleep-silent-angel, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit , @trenchcoats-and-bees , @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan , @skybinx-blog,

March 1998

It was a dark, raining night filled with thunder every now and again. From the window of your room, you observed the scenery and wondered if you had been the reason the rain started in the first place. You bit your lips and glanced at the night table you converted into a ritual table surrounded by candles. You did not know whether you could be happy about it or worried, so you slowly decided to walk to it and read the page you used to cast a spell. You took a deep breath as you reread it for the third time.

You had been practicing witchcraft for a whole week now. So far it's only been fun. Any little trick here and there, but you never dared to try the bigger one until now. Being 14 year old, (y/h/c) and plus-size was never easy. So when you found the book in your locker a week ago, you thought someone was pranking you, especially with the weird note, you discovered with it

“(Y/N). You had been chosen to use and protect this book. Make sure it never falls into the wrong hand. Also, This book is a gift and can also be a curse too. If you have good intentions, you will only face minor consequence in your life, if not, get ready for a lifetime of nightmare and losing your loved one.”

That note worried you, mainly because no one knew your locker code but you. You made sure of it. So you quickly put the heavy book in your backpack and went to the library. Stupidly thinking the book belonged there and the look the librarian gave you, it was something you never want to do again. So you left quickly without the book and did everything to avoid the odd look you received on the way to your class.

The whole day, you had received comments from your classmate calling you a witch or fat witch, particularly because the book pop up at any particular moment, even though some of your teachers confiscate it from you and you also throw it in the trash bin on the way home but found it on your bed. You had stopped freaking out after the third time and after receiving from one of your teacher a note to be in detention. You were just bothered and annoyed by everything, so you just gave in and opened the book.

A rumble of thunder startled you and brought you back into the problem. You slightly smiled as you noticed that this spell would only last 12 hours.

“Good,” you said to yourself then closed the book.

You smiled and promised yourself that you wouldn’t use the book anymore, while cleaned and put everything that was on the night table in your closet before going to sleep.

The next day like you predicted, the storm stopped around 9 am and you were pleased to know that the weather came back as it's expected to be. After that, nothing major happened other than two of the four kids that bothered you didn't come into class that day, you did not mind. You figured that they were sick or something, but while you had your lunch break, the two left came to your table.

“Where are they, fat ass!?” Joyce queried

You raised an eyebrow “Who are they? ” You asked back

Joyce grabbed your arms and put pressure on it, you wanted to react, but her boyfriend pressed a knife against your side under the table “Don’t even try anything. Or Jamie will deflate you before you even have the chance to say a word” She threatened you, “Again. Where are they?”

Your heart thundered in her chest while you grimaced slightly in pain while the blade of the knife pressing against your side. “I...I swear I don't know who you are talking about Joyce” You implored her.

“Babe, is she that dumb?” Jamie grumbled “Jack and Jerry.”

“What about them?” you quavered

Joyce didn't have the time to say anything that the janitor came in the way. “Is everything ok kiddo?” He questioned

Jamie narrowed his eyes “She is fine! Now move grandpa” he spat

The harsh look the janitor gave Jamie made the three of you widen your eyes. Joyce let go of your arms and Jamie slide away from you. Both of them left the table without looking back at you.

The janitor’s face smoothed slightly and changed into a concerned look. “You ok kiddo?” he asked one more time

You nodded “Yes, thank you Mr…" you trailed off

“Singer. Bobby Singer,” he introduced himself “Don’t let those idjits…” He started, but he was interrupted by a black male came into the conversation

“Bobby. We need to go” He said not even paying attention to you

Bobby nodded before turning back to you, but once again he didn’t have a chance to speak anything that the man grabbed his shoulder and took him away from you. You observed them leave, linking Bobby already even with the little talk you had. He had saved you today.

Two days later

After the incident and Bobby’s help, nothing significant happened, aside from breaking your promise not to use magic again, but this was an emergency some of your classmates had been slowly disappearing. That’s when you understood what Joyce accused you of being behind those events. She was wrong, at least you hoped even indirectly related to the disappearance you didn’t want to be the one to blame for it. Now here you were with your book open on a tracking spell. All of the incantations were in Latin, and you weren't sure that you pronounced them correctly. Because let's be honest here Latin was the only class you had been failing this year and the fact that those spells even if they were fun to try were in Latin, didn't help you at all. Not to mention you barely understand any of it, you only hope it wasn't something wicked.

You took a deep breath before, chanted the last word of the spell as you dropped the powder inside the cauldron. A small explosion could be heard, and some smoke moved up, you waved off, then grabbed the white stone inside the container before putting it on the map. The second the rock touched the map. It melted like it was burning from the inside and turned into a silver liquid which moved around the map to form a circle around a group of houses. You frowned, it wasn’t specific, but at least you knew where those houses were.

You arrived at the house's neighborhood a few 25 minutes later. Your bike stopped near one of the houses, this area was new construction, and nobody would come here for any reason because some of them still needed to be built. You glanced at them one by one not sure which one you should check first; luckily you took the map with you, you pulled out of your backpack and opened it. You noticed the big circle slowly started to get smaller, as you walked and pushed your bike.

Night had come quickly, by the time you arrived in front of the right house. A big old house, you raised an eyebrow and tilted your head to the side ‘What the hell?’ You thought, wondering why this house was still there in the middle of all those new houses. You stared at it for a few minutes as you walked toward the manor, nervously because it was giving you the creep and you couldn’t shake a strange feeling. You walked into the house after a few moments of wrestling with the door.

Now that you were inside the house, the creepy feeling you had earlier was getting stronger. The door slamming shut itself, startling you. You placed your hand on your chest and tried to calm yourself. Your eyes traveled around the dim hallway, too dark for you to be able to see anything or your eyes to adjust to it. You took your backpack and searched for a lamp, but you didn’t seem to have anything else but the book when you realized the book was there one more time.

You sighed and shook your head ‘Shity book’ you thought.

Even though it was starting to get on your never, you pulled the book when you noticed the book was shining a little. Maybe you could use to walk around or just to find a spell to use, so you have lights in there? You ran the thought in your mind for a few seconds before kneeling down on the floor and putting the book down then flipped the pages until you found the right one.

You smiled “ ego indigeō lucis” (I need light) you repeated three times

You looked around for several minutes as nothing happened, you frowned and closed the book thinking you would just have to carry it around. You closed the book, but it wasn’t shining anymore. Magic was so complicated that you weren’t sure if you still like it. You put the book back in your backpack.

“How Am I going to see anything?” You wondered out loud.

Like someone turned the light on, your hands started to shine the same the book had a few moments ago, you widened your eyes and looked at your hands impress with everything. A smirk appeared on your face; you grabbed your backpack before starting to walk with a hand extended in front of you. As you walked into the vast and dark hallway with the only company the light shining from you had, you got startled by some rats running past you. You watched them go like there was something off about that. Well, rats running away has usually been a sign of danger.

“Hey You!?” someone called out

You turned to face a man, you weren't sure where you saw him before, but you didn't care because the look on his face when he saw your hand shining wasn't good at all, especially because he pulled his gun out “No don't! I am not here to hurt you" you quickly said, holding your hand up, but it wasn't a good idea because your hands started to shine more and slightly blind him making him groan

“Like hell you are!” He barked

Call it intuition or weird feeling, but you didn't feel like staying there and feel the consequences of this, so you turned around and ran away from him, and you were right. You heard the sound of the wind when a bullet came near you. You knew you made the right decision; you ran as fast as you could, not caring where you are going before falling your face first as someone jumped on you to pin you down on the floor.

“Please don't “ You begged as the person gripped at your shoulder to hold you on the floor

“Well, I’ll be damned” The voice you recognized cursed

“Bobby?” You asked, surprise

“Watch her hand!" Another voice

“Get up" Bobby ignored the man and stood up. You obeyed putting your hand down not wanting to show them, but Bobby grabbed them, and the shining light was on again, “How can you do that?” He asked as the other male came next to you.

You barely had the time to say anything that the other man beat you “She is a witch! Bobby! I told you a witch was behind this” He grumbled showing Bobby the book he found in your back

You shook your head“No! I am not behind this! I am here to help them,” You protested

“Right! We are dumb and Dumber” the other man sneered

“Andrew. Let her answer” Bobby said then turned to face you “Listen (Y/N), we are not going to hurt you…” He began before being interrupted by Andrew again

“Like hell we aren’t!” He hissed

You shrank back; Bobby let you have a small space between the two of you. However, he was still holding your hand “We are not going to kill you…Yet” Bobby corrected

You palled and tears formed in your eyes. You weren't sure if you were supposed to be happy or not with the fact that the place was dark “What!?” You fretted

“Just tell us where the other kids are and we might consider if you live or not” Andrew maintained

Your breath quickened, and you pulled one of your hands away from Bobby’s grip “I.. I swear I didn't do anything to them. I… I just want to save them…. I used magic so that I could see in this hallway. Please don't kill me” You begged while your tears fell down your face

Bobby took the book from Andrew “You know those books are dangerous. There is always a prize behind every spell this book does” He tried to calmly explain it to you.

“That’s not what the note says. I am not allowed to use this for personal gain otherwise I would lose people I care” You confess

“(Y/N) How can you not think about this being weird when you receive that kind of message” He scowled

Before you even had the chance to open your mouth, an invisible force thrown the 3 of you apart from each other. You gasped, and your heartbeat quickened, with a long bang your head hit furniture. All dizzy and barely able to stand with your arms falling along your side, a loud high sound in your ears as you tried to focus on your surroundings, yet failed as you passed out. Occasionally coming in and out, every time you did, you had to concentrate which take her almost all her strength each time. Only some images remained in your mind, with Bobby and Andrew fighting the best they could something, you weren't sure what exactly before you fainted for good not able to hold the pain in your head anymore.

You woke up after a few hours with the sound of the two voices bickering over something you barely or didn't care due to a huge headache you had. You tried to listen. However, your head didn't allow you to sneak on them. It needed too much concentration, and you didn't have the strength to do that. You just gave up and sat up in what looked like a bed “Could you keep down so my brain could rest a little” You said not caring whoever it was

“See Bobby Cinderella is awake now,” Andrew said sarcastically

You massage your temples, trying to make the pain more bearable, of course, it failed as you watched Bobby come to you and sat next to you. “You look like I did something bad,” You told him

“More like several bad things. Princess” Andrew said

“What my partners mean is, even though you saved our lives. You did put everyone's life in danger” Bobby said

You widened your eyes and shook your head “No. No, I didn’t hurt anyone. I promise” You blurted as tears came down your cheek.

“The spell you use of that book where market each time you used them. Do you even understand what they mean?” He asked

“Some I did,” You said as more tears fell down

“Oh please,” Andrew grumbled, “Listen, those were dangerous. You were sending each of your friends to a demon!” He fumed

“I...I am sorry” You sobbed “I...I didn’t know. I won’t do it again.”

Bobby nodded “Alright, as long as you stop that I am ok with that” He sent a glare to Andrew

Andrew shrugged “Yeah, don’t, or else we will have to kill you.”

You gasped “I promise I won’t,” You said

Andrew grabbed the book “We are taking this with us as insurance” He said putting the book in his bag before walking out of the room

You nodded, barely able to say anything as you only sob. Bobby shook his head at him, then helped you up. They brought you back to your house, luckily your parents weren't home, nobody to ask you any question. When you got to your room, the book was there again.

#Spn #supernatural #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #bobby singer #bobby singer fanfic #bobby singer fanfiction #reader insert #bobby x reader #bobby fanfic #dean winchester #spn crossover #Supernatural Crossover #dean fanfiction #charmed

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elfnerdherder · 6 years

Text

Ill Intentions: Chapter 13

[Support my Writing] [Read on Ao3]

A shout out to my patrons, with whom I have ardent admiration for: @jenacar @frostyleegraham @evertonem @starlit-catastrophe @sylarana @kenobi-is-king @frostylicker Mendacious Bean, Superlurk, Duhaunt6, and Cecily!

Another huge, huge shoutout to kenobi-is-king for such a happy surprise for me when I got on my computer today. This fanart of Will Graham blew me away, and I’m so thankful to them for their work! It honestly made me tear up. :)

Chapter 13: Plot Progression -The True Bane of the Writer

Beverly and Abigail enjoyed their arrangement just as much as Will supposed they would. They eyed one another speculatively, shook hands, then left Will on the steps of the office building with a turn to their shoulders said that they weren’t going to be friends in the near future. Their common denominator thought to feel a bit guilty at foisting them together, but in truth he didn’t.

The air stung his nose as he headed home. He’d only realized that it was time to leave when Beverly had come up to him and asked if he was going to try and put in OT for being late. Late. He was late on everything, wasn’t he? His head pounded in time with the pressure of his feet on the concrete. Had he eaten? Had he ever gone and gotten water?

His stomach gurgled furiously. Those peanuts hadn’t gone a long way in providing sustenance. No, he hadn’t fucking gotten water.

He only stayed in his apartment long enough to change. The place was still a dilapidated mess from the overturned chairs to the kitchen utensils that littered the floors and counters. He pocketed a few important tools, then saw himself outside once more where he managed to convince a taxi cab to take him to Baltimore.

He wouldn’t begin to imagine just how much he spent just to get a ride to fucking Baltimore.

He didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing, though. Darkness had fallen by the time that he arrived to the posh and non-descript neighborhood, and he waited until the taxicab had driven around a corner before he turned in the opposite direction of the address he’d given in order to head towards the house at the end of the lane.

It was cute, in a Tudor-style sort of way. White fencing trimmed windows, and the rich stonework along the walkway to the front door looked as though someone took great care not to allow grass to grow between the cracks and ruin the aesthetic. It was the kind of home that a psychiatrist would have, Will supposed. Lush evergreen bushes dotted a mildly Asian-inspired garden with Japanese maples whose rich red leaves still clung to the thin branches. Resilient. As he walked just on the edge of what appeared to be motion-sensor lights fixed on the yard, he plucked a leaf idly from one of the branches. He paused by the tree and crushed it in his palm, pressing the leaf to his nose. It was bitter yet sweet, and he wondered if that was much the way that his life seemed to be going –each individual breath holding some taste of one or the other in an equal enough balance to keep him from blowing his brains out. He couldn’t say that his life was bad. He wouldn’t yet call it good, either.

This is the most fun that you’ve had in years.

He slipped around back and hopped a fence, ducking behind well-trimmed hedges. There was a pond whose waterfall gurgled and spit water down artfully laid rocks, lily pads and natural overhangs hiding what Will figured would be a delicate collection of Koi. No self-respecting psychiatrist would fill a pond like that with anything other than Koi. Goldfish would be the cheaper route, but the Chesapeake Ripper of all people wouldn’t cut corners in his garden décor.

Will found his entry point at one of the only blind spots that he could find –perched on the top of the 6 ft. privacy fence, he managed to hoist himself up using a wall trellis. A few broken vines and a couple of curses took him to the roof where he slipped through the attic window. Most people didn’t lock attic windows.

It was just as neat and tidy inside as the garden was. Even among the dust and aged smell of old things, there was a clear order to the boxes. They were labeled in a neat hand, but although the looping curve of the ‘G’ was familiar, the rest of it was not.

What if he’s not the one you’re looking for?

Quite simply, he was fucked. He wasn’t going to even begin to figure how he’d be able to justify his actions to Agent Crawford should he find out what Will had been up to in the middle of the night. The cops would laugh if he accused someone that casually kept a koi pond well-maintained this far into the chilly season. People like that didn’t hide bodies. People like Will Graham, however, broke into homes in the middle of the night on a really, really good hunch.

That, and the guy had his watch.

He forewent lowering the attic stairs in order to drop silently down onto what appeared to be a thick, plush carpet. His steps made no sound; nary a squeak on the wood as he ventured deeper into the house and down a hall that led to a master bedroom just beside a curving staircase.

It was empty; Will wasn’t sure whether or not to feel relief or a mild sense of disappointment at the neatly made bed and the curtains adorning the four-post bed. A quick scan of the end tables didn’t reveal any watch or master plan, although Will pointedly left behind something small, something unmistakable if it was the Chesapeake Ripper. In the walk-in closet, suits of various twills and plaids hung in sleeve order, followed by color order. When he found a small box containing handkerchief squares, he pocketed one, fingers worrying over the embroidery of H.L. No watch. No fucking watch.

The house was dark, sharp outlines of vases adorning end tables casting layers of shadows on wine-colored walls. While the outside boasted a modestly expensive garden, the interior of the home felt like old money, the kind of money someone was born into rather than earned. Natural, was the word for it. Will descended the stairs, careful to mind weak floorboards. The grandeur of the house was natural.

He wasn’t sure how he would know when it was time to leave –when he discovered his watch? The owner of the home? Evidence? Will perused a sitting room that didn’t seem to have been sat in much, and he passed fingers along a grand piano. The lid was lowered, but he imagined the rich tones of harmonies woven through effortless fingertips gracing the ivory. It wasn’t the sound from the neck of a dead man that Will heard, but something sharper, like pricking an unsuspecting finger on a cruel thorn.

Will tried to imagine the thoughts that nestled among the floorboards and heating vents. He tried to feel the skin of the Chesapeake Ripper as fingertips glided along a bannister; he wondered if he sometimes roamed these halls as Will did, searching but not yet finding. He could see the elegance in the artwork on the wall. He could feel the sophistication in the subtle scent of rosewater and ivy that permeated the air. If the person that owned this house wasn’t the Chesapeake Ripper, they were certainly something much like him.

It wasn’t until he found the kitchen that Will knew what he was truly there for. The pantry held a meat freezer, and within that cooler there were two neat little rows of package-sealed meat.

On each package, there was a sensible tag that labeled a date.

Will’s heart stuttered, then stopped. He wheezed a breath, and with clammy yet eager hands he grabbed three packages of meat with three very specific dates –he barely remembered to take a photo of the rows on his phone before he was rushing from the pantry with his breath in his ears. He had something. He had something.

He fucking had something.

His heart didn’t stop pounding until long after he’d gotten back to his apartment. His breaths couldn’t quite grasp onto an even pace, even as he paced his apartment with three very special packages of meat in his freezer. His phone read the time 3:23 A.M. He still had time.

With careful deliberation, he scrolled through his contacts and hovered over a very specific number, one he hadn’t thought to call in a long, long time. He glanced to the freezer, then back to his phone.

Molly Foster, ex-girlfriend to Will Graham, answered on the seventh ring.

“If you’re drunk, Will, I really don’t have the time,” she said. Time had taken the sting out of her words; in truth, it sounded more like fatigued repetition from a person that knew the words to say without having to miss a beat.

“I’m not drunk.”

“Do you promise?”

Hearing her voice made his stomach turn. “I never lied about drinking. I didn’t feel the need to.”

“I have to ask, you know. It’s three in the morning, and you’re calling me.”

“It’s the perfect crime,” Will agreed. He propped his chin in his hand and resisted the pressing need to tap his foot in order to track seconds. If he’d had his watch, he wouldn’t have felt the need.

“Does Beverly know you’re calling me?”

“I couldn’t sleep, and I thought about you. I just wanted to hear your voice, Molly.”

“I’m not a booty call, Will Graham.”

“I wouldn’t do you the disservice, Molly Foster.”

They were quiet. Will thought about the silk texture of the Ripper’s lapels in his hands. He’d wanted to destroy, then. Something had stopped him, though, stopped him from the moment in which he could have brought the Chesapeake Ripper to his knees at an art gala in Baltimore.

He didn’t like thinking about why he’d hesitated.

That would spoil the fun.

“How have you been?” Molly finally asked. Her voice changed, softened around the consonants rather than spitting them.

“Not too good. I think I over-estimated my ability to be alone.”

“You purposefully isolate yourself,” Molly reminded him.

“I know, I know,” Will replied, and he twisted on the couch in order to lay down. He tracked dust motes dancing from the lights of the traffic below lazily. “I maintain that I’ve never really known how to be around people. I’m learning.”

“Will…I have seen the news, you know. How’s… that been working out?”

His gaze darted to the freezer again.

“It’s fine,” he assured her, quietly. “It’s been…fine, really. The news makes it sound worse than it is.”

“I thought about calling you, but then I also remembered that you can be an ass.”

“I can be sociable. How’s this: how have you been, Molly? Are you still working in the bio labs at GWU?”

Her laughed was muffled, but he still heard it. “Yes, I have. I’ve been promoted.”

“Wow, that’s…that’s great,” he said, and he meant it. “I’ve been writing wedding announcements.”

That time, the laugh wasn’t muffled. “What are you doing tomorrow?” A brief pause. “Much, much later today?”

“I can clear my schedule,” Will promised.

“You do that.” She yawned, and it was so endearing that it made him cringe, made him wonder just what the hell it was that he thought he was doing. “I’m going to go back to sleep. Good night, Will.”

“Good night, Molly.”

He set the phone down only after he heard the line disconnect. It’d been awhile since he’d last spoken to Molly Foster. She had a warm heart and a dry wit, and Will had followed along because she didn’t mind his idiosyncrasies and the way he sometimes woke up at night covered in sweat and shaking. She accepted him until he made himself unacceptable. It hadn’t been an amicable break, but there was never the bitterness of harsh words exchanged or tense silences after. Their break-up had been more sorrowful than angering. It’d felt like something had been cut short before it’d had the chance to even begin to grow –a flower plucked too soon.

He didn’t regret it, though. Molly Foster wanted children and a white picket fence one day. Will wasn’t quite sure how things were going to end for him, but he could safely bet that a white picket fence wasn’t on the list of what the Chesapeake Ripper had in store.

And considering how poorly he handled Abigail Hobbs, Will was more than confident that children were about as good of an idea as him being foisted into wedding announcements.

He fell asleep on his couch only after he had it barricaded against his front door, to better prevent the Chesapeake Ripper from dropping in on him. He dreamt of overcooked meat and a fisherman’s hook dangling just out of reach. His wrist was bare and lacking.

His temporary watch was awful.

It was a classic analog that he dug out of an overturned drawer from his bedroom end table. Any extra money that he could have used to buy a new watch had been spent on taxi fares –next paycheck, then. He wasn’t sure how to go about removing that watch from his data plan while it was still having payments made on it, but the need to have all of his communications blocked from the Chesapeake Ripper’s prying eyes was at the top of his list of things to-do.

He remembered his water bottle, although it wasn’t until halfway to work that he realized he hadn’t filled it with water. He’d forgotten to do laundry. He wondered if Freddie would notice that he still had the small stain on his shirt cuff from spilling coffee in the break room. Breakfast had gone cold by the time he’d remembered to eat it. Cold oatmeal. Cold coffee. Bare wrist.

Jack Crawford met him at the door to the office building with two coffees and a stern jaw. Will wondered if the Chesapeake Ripper had found his calling card yet.

“I was given word that Abigail Hobbs visited here yesterday,” Jack said by way of greeting.

Will accepted the coffee. “She was upstairs when I got there.”

“You didn’t think to call?”

“The last boyfriend I had that kept harping about me calling every time something happened at least had dinner and drinks waiting back at the apartment when I got home.” Will gestured with the coffee cup, then took a long drink of it. It was black with no sugar –the ex-boyfriend had been far more attentive to sugar-coating things in order to placate Will’s frustrations at feeling like a child that had to check in with their mother every ten minutes. At least that relationship hadn’t ended because of Will.

“I’m pushy in relationships.”

“I could figure that without you telling me.”

They tracked cars inching by in the early morning traffic, their sour feelings punctuated by the occasional sips they took from the cardboard cups. At least this coffee was hot.

“Abigail Hobbs is being investigated,” Jack finally confessed. His comradery tasted like the small grinds that’d found their way into the coffee. “I think she was helping her dad.”

Will’s most vibrant dreams had been Abigail leading her father back to his apartment so that they could strangle him. His breaths shortened, then stuttered. He took a gulp of hot coffee and regretted it.

“Why do you think that?”

“You have your tricks, and I have a good gut feeling. My gut is rarely wrong.”

“What’s your gut say about me?” Will wondered.

Jack’s mouth puckered, and he wouldn’t look at Will. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

That was better than Jack saying that he hated Will, that his gut said to take Will and lock him as far underground as possible with no possible key for release. Maybe he wouldn’t feel the same if he knew just where Will Graham was the night before. Will unconsciously reached into his coat pocket in order to stroke over the embroidered initials on the handkerchief. His token. His prize. It was grounding to feel such an accomplishment. No watch, but if he sneezed then he was taken care of.

He wondered if the Ripper had sent more fan mail yet.

“I met her, and my empathy says that she’s scared as hell,”

“What’d she want to talk about?”

“Mostly she wanted to see the person that incidentally became the reason you had to kill her father,” Will replied pleasantly. “She wasn’t impressed with me.”

An understatement. The look on Jack’s face said far more than words could. Will swallowed down a sneer and glanced to his watch. He was late.

“What do you think of her being an accomplice?”

“What do you think of her being an accomplice?” Will countered. He didn’t want Jack to know what he thought about Abigail’s lure. He wondered if Beverly and Abigail had found some sort of truce while settling into Bev’s apartment.

“I think it’s too much of a coincidence that she managed to find girls that looked remarkably like her every time she went to a college to check it out, became decent enough acquaintances with them that her father was able to stalk them and then murder them within a day or two of her meeting them. The first, maybe, but after eight…?”

He wasn’t wrong. It was suspicious at best, downright bone-chilling at worst. Will chewed on his bottom lip and rolled his words about carefully.

“She’s not got a unique profile, Jack,” he said when he found the right angle. Careful, careful. Speech wasn’t like writing where one had the ease of editing and fine-tuning the words to sound just perfect enough to resonate. “Brown hair, blue eyes, pale and freckled is a consistent appearance in mid-American Caucasians. I’d say more popular than the blonde hair and blue-eyed stereotype.”

“I had her checked out by a psychiatrist back in DC, and they said she has a penchant for manipulation.”

“Yeah, so do you.”

“And you,” Jack agreed.

Will wasn’t sure why he was defending her, but he let out a quiet huff of breath and nodded. “With that logic, then, we should all be on the chopping block. Manipulation is a trait of psychopaths.”

“Where’s she at now, Will?” Jack asked, ignoring Will’s jab.

“Are you taking her in?” At Jack’s pointed glare, he relented. “I had her stay with Beverly. She had nowhere to go, and I figured it’d be inappropriate with me.”

His straight answer mollified Jack, but only just. Will wondered how long it’d be until Jack snapped and tried to wring his neck. “How do you see her?” he asked Will. When Will opened his mouth, he added hastily, “No shit. When you look at her, tell me what you see.”

That was a little trickier to answer. Will stalled by sipping his coffee and pretending to consider Jack’s question, brow furrowed. He glanced to his watch. No notifications. It was a terrible watch. The fact that he hadn’t found the watch at that house had been infuriating, to say the least. His watch would have urged him to finish his coffee. This watch ticked seconds like small strikes against him.

“I think she’s uncertain, and she’s trying to find her footing,” he said at last. “I think those victims weren’t the only ones that her dad kept tight control over. She’s putting on a good show, but that’s a scared kid, Jack. Trauma victims react in sporadic ways. I didn’t shoot dear old dad, but I made a small column that led to his death. She can’t blame the FBI for doing their job, but reporters are great scape goats. I think she could have known, but then again; I think it’s just as easy to say that she didn’t. There’s no proof to say either way.”

“He tried to kill her when we arrived. Killed his wife, had a knife to her throat when we came in.”

“He was loving up until he couldn’t love anymore. That fucks with a kid’s head, no matter how monstrous their parent is.”

“What were your parents like?” Jack asked. It sounded far more curious than aggressive or accusatory.

“Foster care,” he replied automatically. “Had a lot of parents. Some were great, one ran the next-door neighbor’s cat over and buried it in the backyard. Never told the neighbor. I hated that.”

Jack found that enormously funny. He didn’t guffaw or laugh obnoxiously, but he did allow a very thin-lipped smile to overtake him. He huffed a couple of short breaths and looked down in order to watch his shoe scuff over a few rocks and pebbles.

“I figure that as long as she’s not a runaway, Jack, she could stick around here. Beverly said she’ll only let her stay if she gets a job, so that’s probably what she’s doing right now. Job hunting and trying to put her horrors as far back behind her as possible.”

“The doctor that administered the psychiatric evaluation said that it’s too soon. Repressing isn’t healing.”

“You can’t call it repressing when she sat down across from me and asked if I’d intended for her dad to die right in front of her,” Will said cheerfully. “That’s pretty damn direct.”

“Keep me posted on her is all I’m saying, Will. You can do that, can’t you?”

Will certainly could, although he’d probably be just as particular and careful in what he relayed as he was with the Ripper case. He watched Jack climb into an SUV just at the curb after his coffee was finished, and he headed into work with an odd feeling in his stomach. Probably the coffee. He’d let it grow cold. Fucking watch.

Will was just sitting down outside of the small café that Molly had chosen to meet at when he received a call. In truth, he only realized that he’d gotten a call because the guy just to the side of him let out a loud, unattractive sigh and jabbed his shoulder roughly, once. Will looked away from the thick, fat clouds that threatened snow and blinked at him owlishly.

“You gonna answer that, or you just gonna keep letting that shit ring?” the guy asked, clearly annoyed.

That is when the sound of his ringtone finally broke through the haze of his thoughts, left him equally annoyed as he managed a sheepish “sorry,” and picked up the phone. The man uttered a short curse and went back to reading the newspaper –Tattler News. Will hoped he wasn’t another Avid Fan. He sincerely hoped that he wasn’t recognized.

“Are you ignoring my calls now?” The Chesapeake Ripper wondered. Amusement colored his tone.

His voice filtering through the tinny speaker made Will’s skin heat up. He stood and wandered away from the man nearby that eyed him suspiciously over the top of the paper. He eyed the thick clouds overhead, then looked out across the street where busy passerby hurried home after work. Traffic was thick, heavy with a sense of impatience, and curses hissed from clenched teeth. Horns honked and middle fingers were liberally shared through intersections. Molly was late. Will’s wrist wasn’t bare, but it might as well have been. How many steps had he taken?

“Or is your anger at missing your watch so encompassing that you cannot even find the words to share?” he continued, seemingly unworried over Will’s silence. “If I stood in front of you, would you resort instantaneously to violence?”

“Any violence given would be overdue for you, I think,” he said after a moment. He tried to collect scattered thoughts like dust motes.

“You reflect the world around you. If you give violence, it is because violence was first given to you.”

“And if I steal, you’d say it was only because something was first stolen from me?”

The Chesapeake Ripper was quiet at that. He didn’t sound as though he were among the hustle and bustle of post-work traffic, but then again; the first time around Will had only known because the Ripper wanted him to know. He itched to ask about his calling card, but he refrained.

That would spoil the fun.

“That is the way the theory of mirror neurons work, but I’ve come to find that after childhood mirror neurons don’t work the same way for humans as they do our primate cousins. You reflect the world around you because that is how you are able to pass among the general populace.”

“If you tell Jack Crawford that, I’m positive that he’d ensure I was institutionalized,” Will said dryly.

“Giving the illustrious Agent Jack Crawford a ‘bone’ is actually not on the list of things that I’m willing to do,” the Ripper assured him. “You’re safe from me.”

Will laughed, and when the sound didn’t do the feeling justice, he laughed a little harder. It scraped from him, and he thought about Jack asking him to keep tabs on a teenage girl, as though he could be trusted with something like looking after rebellious teens. He took one of her cigarettes out and lit it, taking a drag of the menthol. Seconds ticked with the pulse that pressed just at his temple, threatening a headache. Fucking menthols.

“You’re collecting a following,” the Ripper said when Will’s laughter died down. If he mentioned his stolen items, he’d surely give it away, wouldn’t he? Will’s stomach lurched, curled in on itself at the thought. Was absence of acknowledging it just as damning as mentioning it?

“Sooner or later, every psychopath will climb out of the woodwork just for a chance to be featured in my column,” Will replied. “What would you do then?”

“Come now, Will, you know that I don’t share.”

“Neither do I.”

“And yet you’ve found yourself rekindling an old flame?” the Ripper wondered. His teasing tone was just curt enough when he said ‘rekindling’ that Will grasped onto it immediately. “I see from your watch that she is running late but will be there in approximately five minutes.”

Such casual mention made his tongue curl, made his teeth clench tight as he snarled.

“What else do you see on my watch?” Will asked snidely.

“I see your sleep schedule is abysmal at best, and you drink a fair amount of water considering your otherwise terrible diet. In truth, I’ve mostly been intrigued by the reminders that you have set up. They’re quite persistent.”

Will saw Molly pass by the café, her car slowing to turn into the parking lot. He wandered away from the entrance, phone pressed tight to his ear as though he could ingrain some part of the Ripper’s voice into his skin. His breath came short.

“Your alarm starts the day early, and before you’ve even left the house you’ve ensured that at least one cup of coffee and one glass of water has been consumed. You remind yourself to collect your things by the door, and you remind yourself to practice a polite smile in the mirror in your bathroom. You remind yourself which stop to take on the bus, what time you should be at work, and you remind yourself to grab a glass of water before you sit down. After a couple of hours, you’ll have hopefully taken a lap or two around the office while refilling your water, and you have a reminder to tell you when it is appropriate to eat.

“Your entire day is structured from the moment you wake until the moment you sleep, but what I found most fascinating were the reminders that you set in order to appear more human than you really are. ‘Check in with Charlie’ took precedent over ‘make small talk,’ which only went off approximately ten minutes after ‘eat lunch’ prompted you to stop working. You have a reminder for leaving work, as well as a reminder for ensuring that you’ve had another cup of water before you left. You remind yourself to get necessities at the drug store near your apartment. You remind yourself to prepare dinner, followed by a reminder to eat the dinner that you’ve prepared.

“One of my favorites, though, would have to be the reminder that you set periodically throughout the day, in between reminders to exercise and prompts to make eye contact. ‘Wake up,’ as if to imply that you exist in a state of dreaming unless otherwise prompted. Do you oftentimes forget what reality looks like, Will?”

“If you’re jealous about Molly, don’t be,” Will rasped, and he was ashamed at how the Ripper’s words tore right through him, left gaping holes where his insides should be. “She was just another dream, once.”

“And now?” the Ripper inquired, saccharine sweet.

“I hope you’re getting your steps in. If you mess up my streak by the time I get my watch back, I won’t be happy about it.”

“A missed day is a red day, yes?” he asked. At Will’s grunt of affirmation, “I’ll endeavor. I’m not sure if your mild form of O.C.D. could handle the indignity of seeing a jarring discoloration on the days of the week that as of late consistently glow green. Congratulations, by the way. You’ve recently increased your step goal.”

Will had a sharp retort for that, but he was surprised by a loud and sharp sneeze that made his throat burn. He withdrew the handkerchief and pressed it to his mouth. It smelled like laundry detergent.

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.” A beat, then, “Thankfully, I found a nice handkerchief for use in polite company.”

“Embroidered, no doubt.”

Molly waved to him, and Will headed towards her, swallowing down something sharp. She was layered in a sensible winter ensemble, complete with plaid scarf and a loosely fitted beanie that made her hair frame her round, pink cheeks. A dream. A dream, and Will stomped down the mild sense of guilt at seeing her smile grow upon taking in his suit and peacoat. “No doubt. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Will. Enjoy your dream, but try to remember when it’s time to wake up.”

Will couldn’t bring himself to admit out loud that he was already awake –had been since Jack Crawford first showed up to inform him that the Minnesota Shrike was dead.

This is the most fun you’ve had in years.

#LiaS scribbles #Ill Intentions #hannibal fanfic #hannibal au #hannigram #will graham #someone help will graham #jack crawford #Molly Foster #hannibal x will graham #slowburn hannigram #dark!will #Grey!will #Journalist!will

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rebrandingplsstandby · 6 years

Text

VOLTRON ASK GAME

I was tagged by @silverineontherun (thank you so much) and immediately knew I had to do this!

How did you discover the show?

Back during the summer it first came out, I remember seeing it come up on Netflix a few times and I remember feeling like I should watch it, but hesitating because it seemed like any y-7 Western version of a mecha-anime...which at that point I wasn’t sure I’d be into. But I love animation, and I may have seen a thing or two about it on here, so eventually I was like ‘eh, why not? I’ll put it on while I work on my own animation project.’ And so I did :)

Was it love at first sight or did it take you a while to get into the show?

Yes and no! I was immediately drawn in by the characters and the animation but the plot did take some time to grow on me. I knew I’d stick with it from the first season, but it wasn’t until the third season that I was stuck. I think it was at that point that it became clear to me that this show had a carefully laid plan for each of its characters and the story as a whole, and everything was really starting to take off.

Do you have a favorite episode?

This is a difficult one...because with me there’s never just one episode! Taking Flight will probably always be my fave from s1, and the eps introducing the BOM and Keith’s backstory are my faves from s2, but after that it gets harder because I love pretty much all of s3, s4, s5 and s6 equally (and A LOT).

Do you have a favorite Paladin?

Weeeellll Keith has been my icon for a while. But if there’s anything I love about Voltron, it’s that it’s so easy to love and care about ALL of the characters for different reasons! So if I HAVE to pick one, then Keith for the first half of the show. But you know what? I have a feeling that from now on it’ll be Lance because I feel his story starting to take off and I’m actually so ready. But, as I said, these two are just barely my faves--I truly love them all.

Do you have a favorite Lion? (If it’s different from your fave Paladin, why?)

I never really thought about it before but I have to say Blue. She’s been there from the very beginning, and I love that she’s like the ‘mother’ lion. I trusted her with our boy Lance and now I trust her with our girl Allura <3

Do you have a favorite villain?

Lotor lol. Zarkon was boring AF (except in the flashbacks from before he turned) but as soon as Lotor came in I was so ready for whatever he was going to bring to the show. Admittedly, I did have a tiny bit of hope that he wouldn’t be as bad as he turned out to be, but as a villain his story is equal parts chilling and tragic and that works for me. I’m hoping Haggar/Honerva steps it up though, maybe it’ll be her soon.

Do you have a favorite Alien Race (Recurring and/or minor)

Hmmm...not really? I find them all pretty cool but I’ve never considered what my favorite would be. Maybe the Balmerans though, since they’ve been around from the start.

Favorite side/other character(s) - Rebels, Generals, Blade of Marmora, Garrison, etc?

Krolia. I mean we’ve only had two episodes somewhat devoted to her so far, but I already know I’d die for her. And I love that she’s on the team! I’m actually excited to see how both she and Romelle will work with the others. It’s always wonderful to see more female characters join the crew! Aside from that? Matt, of course! He’s so fun.

How/Why did you join the fandom?

I blogged a little about Voltron before s3, but I didn’t actively engage in the fandom until s3 and beyond. By that point I couldn’t help it! I was too invested to contain myself. And I also think that it had to do with the fact that I had fully accepted Keith and Lance as probably LGBT rep and I needed to see what other people were saying about that possibility. And actually I got more into the fan theories in general by that point. So, yeah! No matter how messy the fandom might seem, I figured I’d be able to find what I would enjoy and ignore what I wouldn’t.

Care to share your favorite headcanon?

Hoo boy. I don’t make a lot of headcanons because I’m very invested in canon, but I do like headcanons that I think work exceptionally well with canon. That being said I don’t really curate them so nothing specific is really coming to mind? Maybe the one that Hunk cleaned Keith’s paladin armor while he was away because that’s so cute and I can see Hunk doing that. Oh, and just for laughs, I love that we call Keith’s dad Texas to the point where I kind of hope we never find out his real name.

What do you think is the best part of the show?

The characters and the animation! The fact that both are as well done as they are is what makes Voltron such a fixation for me. I truly feel for and care about every single character, and I love that none of them are perfect and that you can track their growth! That and the fact that the show lends itself so well to theorizing!

Any hopes and wishes for future episodes/seasons?

LGBT rep is a big one, but--as I referenced earlier--I think that’s in the process of happening, and you also know which character(s) I think that’ll be! Other than that, I want to see more dual-wielding Keith, Lance with his sword, I want to see Lance and Hunk’s families on earth, and I want Allura and Romelle to bond! I also just want Romelle to become part of the team in general because I think that’ll be an interesting dynamic.

Do you think you’ll stick it out until the end of the show?

No question! I, for one, am more excited than ever about where the show is going, and it would take a lot for me to drop it. I’m not worried about being disappointed though--I’m not saying it could never happen, but that’s not something I think about. As much as I love theorizing and reading other people’s theories, I’ve gotten to a place where I’m very content to wait and see what they throw at us.

All righty, now to tag someone! I haven’t really gotten to know many of you on here, and I don’t want anyone to feel obligated to participate if they don’t want to, but I’ll tag @lanceprance cause you’ve been around for a while! But literally anyone who sees this pls feel free to do it I’d love to see what you all have to say!

#silverineontherun #lanceprance #voltron ask game #voltron legendary defender #vld s6 spoilers

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pixelatedgremlin-blog · 7 years

Text

Here’s just a little drabble about S0-13′s (before she became Sophie) first meeting with X6-88. She would later be made to forget this, but it was still fun to write for her.

((OC tag @a-bladesentinel))

“Don’t go far, S0-13. We will need to run some tests,” the scientist in charge of watching over her today said as the synth looked around the room. She gave a nod and started to wander slowly.

She only vaguely remembered being shown around this area of the Institute on the tour the Director took her on her first day of of her lab; she learned so much that day, it was difficult to keep everything straight in her head. She had been reminded on their walk over here that this was where they developed and tested new laser weapons. They would not be outfitting her with a laser weapon, she had been told. Instead, when they planted her in Vault 111, they would leave a few 10mm pistols for her to pick up; these pistols would be outfitted to serve her best in the hopes that she would become so quickly comfortable using one that she would survive longer in the Commonwealth without Institute interference.

S0-13 was a delicate project. She had been told as much several times. Her creator, her Father, came from a vault, and one of his parents was still alive; her job was to follow them across the Commonwealth and make sure they found the Institute, but her memories were going to be locked so that she believed that she was actually a pre-war citizen named Sophie. Because of this, they were taking all precautions necessary and preparing for anything that might arise. The more they could plant for her to use, the more successful she would be.

Advanced Systems wasn’t very busy today; there were only a couple of scientists working on projects, and there was someone shooting in the range. The noise of the laser gun was what drew S0-13’s attention, and she made her way over to the door. Instead of the standard all-white that the scientists and synths wore, this one donned a black courser uniform.

S0-13 had been told about the Coursers, that they were ruthless, they were responsible for bringing rogue synths back, they were something that Sophie would be told to fear out in the Commonwealth although they would never hurt her. If they were all like this one that she was watching from the door of the shooting range, she could clearly see the intimidation factor. Everything about him was rigid and wound tightly, as though he was barely holding onto his control.

“Designation S0-13,” the Courser greeted, not taking his eyes off of the target at which he was aiming. He fired off the last few shots in his round before he replaced the fusion cell cartridge in his gun.

“Doesn’t that just waste rounds?” S0-13 asked, walking further into the room until she was leaning against the barrier separating the target space from where the shooter was supposed to stand.

“More rounds can be generated. New prototypes must be tested.” This time, the Courser looked at her; at least, S0-13 assumed he was looking at her, but she couldn’t be sure when all she really saw was her own reflection in his sunglasses. Strange for him to be wearing sunglasses when there was only artificial light around them.

“And you’re not just talking about weapons, right?” S0-13 smirked at him and tossed her bright orange hair over her shoulder.

“Your importance was not lost on anyone when they introduced you. Your specifications are unlike any other Gen 3 synth they have thus far created. You are the Institute’s biggest asset as well as its biggest liability.”

“You’re not telling me anything new.” S0-13 looked back out into the rest of the Advanced Systems lab. She knew how much of a gamble it was, giving her so much free will with no way to reign her in other than sending a Courser out with her recall code, and that was only a very last resort.

The Courser returned his attention to the target and began firing more shots at it.

“What’s it like up there? Above ground?” S0-13 asked. She assumed that since he was a Courser, he would have gone on synth retrieval missions in the Commonwealth.

“Violent and unclean. The people who live up there are nothing short of pitiful.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” When the Courser didn’t rise to the bait, S0-13 scoffed. It was no wonder one of them wasn’t being assigned such an important task as keeping an eye on the only surviving resident of Vault 111. A Courser might be able to keep them safe, but they wouldn’t be able to do what S0-13 had been designed to do: make people like and trust her. That was the main reason why she was allowed to interact with others around the Institute. It was a test of a new prototype, as this Courser had said, to see how natural she was with people and how they interacted with her in return.

“S0-13, we’re ready for you,” the scientist said, looking between the synth in his charge and the Courser seemingly paying her no mind.

“Good, I was getting bored anyway,” S0-13 replied, pushing off the wall and sauntering toward the door.

“X6-88 is one of our best Coursers.”

“It doesn’t make him any more likeable.” As she walked away, she missed the small smirk X6-88 couldn’t contain at her retort. “This gun you’re going to be leaving for me, it won’t be able to be tied back to the Institute, right?”

~~~~~

A few days later, S0-13 was called back to Advanced Systems to test the pistol they had outfitted for her. She had never picked up a gun before, and when she awoke from the Vault, it would be as though she had never trained with it here. If she could pick it up easily now, she would have no problem in the future.

The first time she picked it up, it felt right in her hand. It had the right weight and balance, and when she held it up to aim it, her hand was steady, grip relaxed, as though she had been created to do this.

“Woah, there,” the scientist gripped her wrists and forced her to lower the gun. “Do that in the range, okay? We’ve brought someone up to teach you how to use it.”

S0-13 made her way over to the designated weapons testing area and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who her ‘teacher’ would be, suppressing a frustrated groan.

“S0-13.”

“X6-88.”

“Shall we begin?”

The Courser showed her how to properly hold and aim the gun to reduce recoil and keep herself steady in case she needed to switch tactics. He taught her how to fight back if someone tried to take her weapon for her and the best way to use it as a melee weapon in retaliation. He was methodical in his instruction and did not hesitate to correct her if her technique wasn’t perfect. All the while, she tried to ask him questions about his experiences above ground, to which he only gave the bare minimum in response.

Eventually, her questions turned to jabs in a futile attempt to get him to break his calm facade. As calm as he was, she was even more persistent. She had managed to get a reaction out of nearly everyone else she had met in the Institute, and yet she had no such luck in getting in X6-88’s head.

“I am to give you a final test to see how well you have retained all I have just taught you. You must fire three full loads of bullets. Your first round will be at a stationary target, your second as a slowly moving target, and your third at a quickly moving target. Your accuracy and reload times will be compared to my own,” the Courser explained.

“So it’s a competition?” S0-13 asked, a grin forming on her face.

“If that is how you would like to see it, then yes, a competition.”

“Why don’t we make it a little more interesting then? Loser has to do something for the winner.”

X6-88 paused, and for a moment, S0-13 thought he was going to refuse. “What do you suggest?” The female synth only furrowed her brow; it had been a suggestion made on a whim, and she didn’t have an answer for him. “Upon your loss, you must take back what you said about me being ‘boring.’”

S0-13 laughed. “Did that really bother you that much?”

“I just want to hear you say you were wrong.” This time, S0-13 caught his smirk, and she rolled her eyes.

“And what do I get if I win?”

“You will not win, but… I will offer up the preserved pack of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes I found on my last trip aboveground.”

“You have a deal.”

And so the competition began. S0-13 watched X6-88 out of the corner of her eye, and she wondered if he was doing the same to her. When he traveled to the Commonwealth, he had to stalk his prey flawlessly, watch their every move; even if he wasn’t concerned about losing their little game to her, he would be concerned about how she had absorbed the information he had given her as a reflection on himself.

After all of their rounds have been spent, S0-13 made a show of blowing invisible smoke off of the tip of her gun. X6-88 only beckoned her to follow him so they could count the bullet holes in the targets.

“So, what’s the verdict?” S0-13 asked.

“It appears as though you have bested me in this competition,” X6-88 replied, calm as ever. S0-13’s jaw dropped.

“Really? I won? That’s… impossible. You had to have let me win!” Her enthusiasm was quickly replaced with indignation. There could be no way that she could have won on skill and luck against one of the Institute’s best Coursers. “Why did you let me win?”

“My victory would have been predictable… and boring.” The corner’s of X6-88’s mouth twitched in amusement. “My opinion hardly matters, but I believe you will do well up there. If you can stand the smell, that is.” He set aside the 10mm pistol he had used for this exercise and would likely never pick up again. S0-13 raised an eyebrow at his retreating back; he had asked for a compliment from her, and yet he had given her one instead.

“Wait, you still owe me those Snack Cakes!”

#fallout 4 fanfic #fanfic tag #sophie #x6-88

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lets-get-fictional · 7 years

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Hello! Morally corrupt anon from like a month or two ago lol. You've helped me sooo much with the issues I've had, allowing me to ACTUALLY WRITE! So thank you! Buuut, I do have another question, this one requiring a TW for abuse, unfortunately. How do I correctly write the MC abusing her boyfriend physically and mentally, yet she manages to make him come back to her many, many times? Thank you!

I’m so glad I was able to help you, love! Thanks for continuing to follow me :) This is an interesting question, which I’ve been eager to answer for a few days now!

CONTENT WARNING: This post contains the discussion of physical and mental abuse. I’ve tagged it for TWs, but if this topic is upsetting to you, please scroll past!

Why People Stay in Abusive Relationships

So first, I’m gonna drop a link in for my post on the different causes behind abusive behavior. The reason behind your MC’s behavior affects the kind of abuse, as well as their S.O.’s ability to justify it. The less you understand the heart behind your MC’s behavior, the more difficult it’ll be to portray it realistically.

But shameless self-promotion aside – there are a few different reasons that people stay in (or return to) abusive relationships, and some of them probably won’t fit with some character personalities. Consider your character’s strengths, weaknesses, and personal desires as you read these options. These are also numbered for easy navigation, not as a most-to-least common list.

1. Fear

Fear is one of the chief reasons for a person to stay in a bad relationship, primarily because fear is a common consequence of abuse. If the abuse is physical, the abused person may be afraid of being harmed if they were to break off the relationship. Even if the abuse is non-physical, there is fear of how the MC will react; an abuser may, depending on the type of abuse, lash out verbally, damage the victim’s property, share secrets or lies about the victim, release sensitive material (e.g. nudes), or even threaten to harm themselves/commit suicide as a means of manipulating the victim into staying.

Going further, the abused person’s fear may not have anything to do with the abuser. They could be afraid of loneliness or living alone. Some people remain in bad relationships to avoid dating again, having to find a new apartment/job/school in order to separate from the abuser, or simply standing up for themselves and having that conversation with the abuser. It may be as simple as a fear of change itself,

These issues are most common with (but not exclusive to): dominant/submissive relationships, in which the victim is aware they’re being abused.

2. Codependency

Codependency is more commonly a result of mental/emotional abuse, and it inconspicuously gives the abuser a lot of power. It runs as a two-way street, sometimes both ways at the same time – the victim may feel dependent on the abuser, or they may feel that the abuser is dependent on them. In any case, breaking up is more of a matter of “Can I?” instead of “Should I?”

Codependency develops in a few different ways. If the abuser makes a habit of insulting or belittling the victim, controlling them, or isolating them from other support systems, the victim will begin to feel a different kind of attachment to their abuser – one borne of necessity. Abuse puts the victim in a constant place of defense, or “survival mode”. If the abuser erases all other parts of the victim’s life, so that their only comfort can come from the abuser, the victim will feel incapable of “surviving” without them.

The other kind of codependency, though, is a reversal; the abuser, manipulating the victim consciously or not, presents themselves too weak, mentally unstable, misunderstood, or isolated to “survive” without the victim. This places a feeling of responsibility on the victim, prompting them to be a “good boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/partner” and stand by them. They may even like the feeling of taking care of their abuser. The responsibility may even take over their life, until they feel that without their abuser to maintain, they’d have no direction or purpose.

These issues are most common with (but not exclusive to): relationships where one member is more responsible or controlling and the other is more emotionally unstable or unconfident. It may be that the victim has a history of being taken care of or having to take care of loved ones, making this less of a manipulation and more of a natural (but still unhealthy) reaction.

3. Normalization

In many cases, victims of abuse can be wide awake to their situation – everyone around them could be telling them they need to get out of the relationship, that this treatment isn’t deserved or fair – and yet, they don’t leave their abuser. Rather, they normalize the treatment, or believe the abuser when they tell the victim it’s normal. They may buy into the idea that the abusive behavior is: A) a typical reaction, B) an abnormal but fair reaction, or C) a reaction forced by the victim’s “mistakes” or “shortcomings”.

Normalization can be a result of poor self-esteem – a belief that the victim doesn’t deserve better, because this treatment is good enough – and is often exacerbated by a lack of trust in anyone other than their abuser. It can cause the victim to isolate themselves from friends/family, or even from anything that shows a “fairytale relationship” – TV, movies, music, books, etc.

These issues are most common with (but not exclusive to): people with avoidant personalities or kind/forgiving types. It’s most prevalent in extremely young relationships (when the victim has no other romantic experience) or in mid-life relationships (when the victim is willing to settle for fear of being alone).

4. Shame

When a person first experiences abuse, it’s a shocking (and often humiliating) experience. They may not immediately speak out about their experience, nor will they always confront their abuser about it. This leads to the victim allowing abuse to continue, and the longer this goes on, the more embarrassing it can be for the victim to leave the relationship – especially if the abuse is physical and has left evidence of the mistreatment. Even if they don’t tell anyone about the abuse, the victim may be afraid that their abuser will talk about the relationship to friends or family.

There’s also the case of the victim telling their loved ones about the abuse, in which case the loved ones would advise them to leave. If the victim ignores their advice and stays in the relationship, they may be embarrassed to later admit they were wrong. In another vein, the victim may feel ashamed of how they acted or treated others in defense of their abuser. Bad relationships can create rifts in families, friendships, or non-platonic relationships (potential lovers or ex-lovers for example).

These issues are most common with (but not exclusive to): people with pride or insecurity in their image, as well as stubborn or private people. This seems more obviously applicable to physically or sexually abusive relationships, but can be common with verbal/emotional abuse (as this kind of abuse is considered “mild” or not even “true abuse” by some people).

5. Love

I saved the worst for last. When the victim is in love with their abuser, leaving the relationship becomes even harder to accomplish. Love can inspire the victim to justify, support, and defend their abuser’s actions – and love being the passionate feeling it is, convincing the victim that they’re being abused can be that much more difficult. Victims who love their abusers can misinterpret abuse as an expression of love, which, even once they’re out of the relationship, can damage their view of love and respect. It can lead to future abusive relationships, and in some cases, to the victim become an abuser to someone else.

On the other hand, love can also blind the victim to the abuse, causing them to focus on the “good times” and good qualities of the abuser. The victim can go into complete denial, lying to others about their treatment and getting defensive when loved ones ask about the abuser. The victim may believe that they can change the abuser, or that the abuse is only due to a tough time – the abuser’s stress, or their own “bad behavior”. And ultimately, the victim may be hesitant to leave for fear of never loving anyone the same again.

These issues are most common with (but not exclusive to): dreamer types, romantic types, or longstanding relationships that develop into abusive relationships.

A final note: Your question was specific to returning to an abusive relationship multiple times, so I want to add that once an abused person gets the nerve up to leave their abuser, there will likely be a (perhaps brief) victory period before they return to the relationship. This is usually sparked by some emotional compromise (getting fired, getting dumped, or any feeling of rejection, loneliness, or need) which sends them back to the abuser for comfort. It won’t just be a situation of leaving and coming back, back and forth. There has to be a reason for every change.

Anyway, this post was long as hell, but I hope this helps you! If any of my followers have something to add, I’ll gladly signal boost it :) If you have any more questions, my inbox is always open. If not, good luck!

If you need advice on general writing or fanfiction, you should maybe ask me!

#writing #writeblr #writing blog #writing tips #writing advice #my post #ask #anon ask #abuse #abuse tw #tw: abuse #abuse cw #cw: abuse #abusive relationship #relationships #emotions #motives

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