Friendly reminder that Guzma accomplished his childhood dream before you even finished your trials. You know, how he wanted to be a Trial Captain and all, but was rejected? Yeah. He accomplished that. Don’t believe me?
Po Town was his bug trial. Consider this: the player goes to Po Town as a distraction so Skull could escort Lillie back to Aether. In order for this to work they had to know where you were, what you were doing, and have a plan to keep you busy long enough to keep you out of the way. So what does Guzma do? He sets up barricades. Trial barricades. And puts grunts out at strategic positions. And lets his grunts keep running their Pokemon Center. Well, that’s all incidental, you might think. They make money from running their center, anyways, so why not let them keep on with it? Besides the part where it would be infinitely easier to let you exhaust your pokemon with your limited resources and have all of his grunts hold you hostage with their healthy, energetic pokemon.
Of course, then you get into the mansion, and that’s when the trial really starts. Every trial in the game has you complete a certain task. You know, defeating a bunch of pokemon, taking pictures, answering quizzes… or finding passcodes. I mean, let’s be honest, here. Team Skull probably doesn’t use passcodes to get to Guzma. They can all tell they’re Team Skull. They have very specific threads. and they don’t ever stop moving their hands. They know when they’re talking to another grunt, and if there’s something urgent they have to tell him there’s no time to have to sit and go through his whole dumb password routine—and even if they did, remember, this whole thing was planned ahead of time. Guzma could have easily coerced his grunts into not saying shit about the passwords and make you waste more time going allllll the way up only to figure out you had to go running around to figure that shit out. But nope. There was one grunt, who decided to tell you very loudly about oh man these passwords are so hard to remember you know those two entire things about Guzma that anyone living in that mansion would know, plus making sure to say no at the end aw jeez aw man whoops I guess I just lost this information somewhere in the mansion and am making no move to try and head you off before you find it haha. He told you what Guzma wanted him to tell you.
So you get the passwords, and you head on up to see Guzma, but he doesn’t have a totem pokemon or anything, so for your trial you just have to beat him, instead. This isn’t the first time you fought him, and it hasn’t even been very long since the first fight, either. He knows you’ve beaten him before. He knows you might very well beat him again. And he has this entirely inconspicuous treasure chest filled with Buginium Z. You know. That Z-crystal he stole from EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ENTIRE GODDAMN REGION because he didn’t want anyone else to have it. That Buginium Z. “Well obviously he wants to show it off since he thinks he’s hot shit!” you say, and yeah, that’s probably why he usually leaves it out. Except, remember, he knows you’re coming. He knows he may or may not win. And even then, if he didn’t want you to have the Buginium, he could have just hidden the chest or closed the lid and sat on it. You’re eleven. He’s twenty-something and the tallest character in the game. He could have just put his hand on your forehead and you wouldn’t have been able to reach it. Instead, he leaves it out. Leaves it open. And leaves you alone in his throne room after you beat him. You know. With his prized treasure that he thinks says he’s the most badass Bug trainer in Alola. If he didn’t want you to have a Buginium, he would have damn well made sure you never even saw it. You beat him. He lets you have it.
So you take the Buginium that he’s left sitting out on “accident” and head back out through the mansion, maybe taking one last look for shit before you go because you steal everyone’s things without remorse, and on your way out of Po Town, you notice the barricades are gone. The trial barricades that you can only pass through when you’ve defeated a captain’s trial, like they told you wayyyy back in the very beginning of the game. They could have left those up to slow you down a little bit more, give Lusamine a little more time without having to worry about you getting in the way, but instead Guzma’s let you waltz out without having to jump through any hoops—he left before you, remember. He’s the one who had them taken down.
You have to keep in mind that all of this was planned. That they needed a way to keep you busy so they could take Lillie. That Guzma knew you were coming and had plenty of time to prepare. So you leave Po Town, continuing on your adventure under a little bit more pressure than before, but Guzma? Jackass he may be, for one pokemon battle of one hour of one day, Guzma did the one thing he’d ever wanted to do in the first place:
<b>People:</b> Just let EXP and Jaden Smith be kpop idols. Its not that serious<p/><b>Me:</b> Fuck all that noise! So I'm supposed to except all these outsiders when Monsta x still don't have a stable fanbase, airtime and respect? When NTC got at least 17 more sub groups to put out? When girl groups are treated like second class citizens? Just let them waltz in with their "I'm american, therefore somehow instantly better" mentality? You know what I think? I think you can go fuck yourself. Can I do that? oh, don't worry it's not that serious 😊<p/></p>
How CW would go if fucking logic applied to Marvel
Here, the government agreement signed. We also have the training facilities for new superpowered people up and running.
I know, and I trust you and Tony to keep this under control and clean. I just wish this wasn’t necessary.
Yeah, but we need the people we fight for to trust us, and these newbies require training and a sense of responsibility. Least they accidentally blow up a school or something,
Bucky, you are a wanted man now… which is why I can’t just let you waltz around running from law enforcement, because It can only end in disaster and more innocent deaths. We are gonna bring you in, but let me make a call first.
Tony hey, can I borrow your team of lawyers and some money?
Your honor, as you can see in these documents and photographs owned by Hydra/SHIELD and released by agent Romanova for the whole world to see a couple of years ago, our client, James Barnes, was a condecorated soldier taken war prisoner, brutally tortured, brainwashed and forced to perform terrible acts against his will or knowing by a terrorist Nazi organization. He is a victim and a survivor. As will confirm this lot of experts in the psychological and brainwashing field as well as Captain America, who is completely trustworthy and would never go against the concerns of the people of this country.
Released without charges with supervision detail for the duration of the mandatory rehab.
But who’s gonna pay for all these murders?
HYDRA will pay. Let us handle them.
*doing some hardcore 100% legal avenging, wiping out the rest of Hydra while the general public cheers for it’s heroes*
Oh thank you so much guys, you know with the baby and Clint flying around the world fighting the bad guys we really didn’t have the time to do this.
Bucky and his supervision agents:
*planting potatoes and chill*
“Dance, my little precious, dance!” Pennywise squeals as he kicks his legs out, one after the other in the most grotesque and jarring of jigs. He stands behind you, guiding your movements along with his own, like a puppet muster with your limbs attached to imaginary strings. Your body jerks this way and that way, being manhandled roughly and without finesse. One wrong movement, just one sudden yank, and you’re sure your arm will dislocate from your shoulder. You move along as best you can, trying your damnedest to match his superhuman speed and ferocity to avoid the seemingly unavoidable injury that is bound to happen if he keeps this up for much longer.
You hate it when he gets like this, which is usually after he feasts on some sorry preadolescent urchin. He always returns on a high, squealing and yapping, prancing and pouncing. He is like a hurricane entering land, tearing everything in his path, bursting through the side door of the wagon where you are kept chained to its wheel. The sound of hysterical laughter and high-pitched howls precede him, and when his bloodshot yellow eyes finally fix upon you, you know what you’re in for. The stench of blood and pain overshadows the usual scent of cotton candy and popcorn that usually emanates from him. He lunges for you then, and though most times you end up in some twisted, contorted position crying and moaning in pleasure and pain, sometimes you end up like this, becoming his marionette. Like a rag doll, you’re yanked in all directions as he dances his high away. And still, when he’s spent and sitting wide-legged on the wooden floor of the wagon, he reaches for you. The end game is always the same: Mania culminates in ferocious fucking.
“You’re not dancing!” he yells, stopping suddenly and turning you forcefully to face him. His bloody face is only two inches from your own, and his sulfurous eyes burn into yours. You try not to gag, partly at the stench of death on him, partly out of vertigo.
“You call this dancing?” you manage to pant, turning your head away. Even the stench of the sewer beyond the confines of his tower would be preferable to the one he carried now.
He glares at you for a few seconds longer, then he pouts and shakes his head in disdain, the bells of his clown suit jingling. How dare you refuse him! Or challenge him! You, the little toy he kept for his own amusement, actually had the gall to defy your captor. A growl begins to build in his throat, its deep vibration shaking you to your very core. One wrong step, and he wouldn’t think twice of snapping your neck, or even worse, tear your traitorous windpipe out of throat and wear your guts for garters. You get on the bad side of the clown, and you end up floating twenty feet in the air with the rest of his half-eaten prey.
“Can I show you something different?” you say coyly, lowering your head in submission but looking up at him. You smile sweetly, and reach out to take his hand. He looks down at your hand clutching his, looks back up at you, and you nod reassuringly. Your invitation is genuine. You know he has moments when he is playful, sweet even, like a petulant child reveling in the scraps of attention given to him. But then, just as quickly, he can snap. You know your survival thus far has depended on those moments in which you manage to keep him placated. Will he now be the monster, or the playful child?
Slowly, the corners of his mouth begin to twitch, and the most mischievous smile plays on his lips. Your own smile grows wider, and the two of you giggle in unison. His eyes shine when he notices the twinkle in yours and he knows just exactly what idea has sprung in your head. He always does.
“I’ve never danced the waltz” he says, half embarrassed “it seems so… dull”
“That’s because you’ve never had a partner” you quip, taking a step closer. He goes to grab you, but you take a step back. His smile is instantly gone.
“Uh uh” you tease “first you must… you know… take care of that” you say, wiggling your finger at his bloodied mouth.
“Ah!” he exclaims in his childlike voice. He lets go of you, and shakes his body vigorously. Then, instantly, all traces of his meal are gone. His face and suit are clean, his hair is perfectly coiffed, and he once again smells of sweets and butter. Like a walking circus, you think to yourself, a smorgasbord of delicious and enticing temptations.
“Ta-da!” he exclaims, throwing his arms out in an exaggerated gesture, causing you to laugh.
“That’s more like it. Now, put your arms around me” you instruct, and take hold of his right gloved hand and place it at the hollow of your back. Your right hand now takes his left, and he instinctively pulls you in close, so suddenly that your noses almost crash into one another’s. For a moment you remain thus, locked his in his embrace with his breath ghosting over your lips, noses nearly nuzzling. Your eyes drown in his, and were it not for his façade and restraint, you would be sure to lose yourself in the deadlights simmering within. Still, even after all this time, you wonder how you’ve managed to keep your sanity.
“Um…” you stammer, but you’re so close, so engulfed by him, that if you surrender and close the inch between you, dancing would give way to the inevitable end. But not yet. You do not wish to lose this moment in which the monster is tame just enough to enjoy the calm that hides beneath the tempest of his nature. You feel jolts of electricity spark and sputter deep in your belly, sending waves that pulsate out to your brain and the tips of your toes. He is standing so still, his hold on you firm and unwavering, his gaze fixed and unblinking. You want to, no, need to give in…
“Follow my lead” you manage to get out, and a faraway voice in your head marvels at how you managed to keep your composure. He is teasing you, just as much as you are teasing him. A thin line of drool begins to slide down his bottom lip. You take a step forward with your left foot, and his right foot goes back.
“Now move to your left with me” you instruct as you slide to the right, and he joins you.
“Now with the opposite foot, your left, you go forward and I go back with my right”
He is focused on the footwork, no longer looking at you. When your feet join once more on the third step and you slide back to the first position, his eyes go wide with understanding.
“Like a square!” he exclaims, sounding like a four year old preschooler.
“Exactly” you laugh. God, he could be so fucking adorable sometimes. Damn him.
“Let’s do it again” he says and begins the routine. “Right back, step left, together, now left front, step right, and together again”
“Oh wow, you got it! Now, follow the same routine as we move around”
Slowly, you make a turn around the small wagon. Then another. As his movements become more fluid, he smiles and laughs happily in his throat. He begins to pick up speed, and soon you are nearly flying around the small space. Suddenly, he lets go of you, and you nearly stumble. His mouth and brow are pursed in discontent.
“That isn’t right” he mutters.
“What’s wrong?” You ask alarmed. Oh no.
“Music’s not right” he says. Your eyes widen with realization and nod. The calliope music that is currently blasting through the tower stops, and he now stands with one foot tapping in unison with his index finger that taps his lip. He is thinking of waltz music, but can’t really place it, or recall it.
“Da da da dum… ting ting” you hum, remembering the classical piece with which you once learned to waltz, standing on your father’s shoes as a small girl. A pang of sadness hits your heart, but you quickly brush it away. Pennywise’s eyes go wide, he sticks his finger in the air, and his mouth opens in a wide, toothy smile. As if on cue, the beginning notes of Tale as Old as Time begin echoing off the walls of his tower. Your hands go to your mouth in shock.
“How do you know?!” you gasp, and he winks. Beauty and the Beast has always been your favorite fairy tale since you first watched it enraptured at the tender age of five. Now, a month shy of your thirtieth birthday, you stood before your very own Beast.
“Something is still wrong” Pennywise pouts, then he gives you the most lecherous grin. With a snap of his fingers, the tattered clothes you wear transform into the puffiest, sparkly, and most glamorous yellow ball gown. Your hair is now pulled into the prettiest half-do, and your feet are wrapped in gold slippers. You look down at your hands in amazement as a pair of immaculate white gloves materialize up to your elbows. You look up at Pennywise, and you are met with the view of a clown staring at you stupefied. His mouth is agape, and his eyes shine with adoration. You have no chance to react as he swoops you up suddenly, and he jumps out of the wagon, landing at the edge of his pile of keepsakes. His high-pitched laughter mixes with your own.
He places you on the floor, and pulls you against him once more.
“Now we can dance” he purrs into your ear, sending shivers through you. You say nothing, for no words were needed. Not now. You lean into him, and as the song begins to build, you let him lead. He waltzes flawlessly, and you and Pennywise begin to glide around the tower. The small waterfalls of water that fall into the cisterns around the structure begin to magically glimmer, and as you splash around in the puddles of the floor, orbs of silver light begin to float upwards from the ripples in the water. You are wrapped in a cocoon of silver white, and move transfixed, hypnotized by the way his eyes seem to shine brighter than ever before.
Around and around you go, and then much to your delight, he begins to twirl you. He holds on to your hand as you turn outwards, then pulls you back in and he lifts you high in the air, his joyous laughter causing you to soar higher, higher, higher, until you seem to be floating, only to be brought back down into the safe anchor of his arms. Without even realizing it, you begin to sing.
“Ever just the same… ever a surprise… ever as before… ever just as sure… as the sun will rise…”
“O0h ah ha ha ha ha ha… sing!” Pennywise exclaims “SING!”
The song now reaches its crescendo, and you feel weightless. Careless. Free.
“Tale as old as time… song as old as rhyme…”
He slowly brings the dance to a close.
“Beauty and the Beast” your voice fades, along with the song. The two of you now stand still, eyes locked, wrapped in each other’s arms. Your heart beats wildly, and if he had a heart, you would be damn sure its rhythm would match your own.
“So that’s the waltz” he breathes. All is quiet, save for the gentle stream of the waterfalls and the haunting lullaby of his prey floating above.
“Kiss me” you whisper. A small smile tugs at one of the corners of his mouth and he crashes his lips against yours. You finally allow yourself to become lost, you surrender to his magnetizing pull. You drown into the deep and delicious ocean of his mouth as the magic dissipates and his clawed hands tear at the aged and faded clown dress you normally wear. You welcome it, you crave it. This was your destiny, to become a prisoner of the creature that feeds on the youngest of your kind, the monster that haunted your dreams and now inhabits your waking.
Now, as your cries of ecstasy echo off the wooden beams inside the brightly lit circus wagon, tears of gratitude spill from your eyes. For no matter what horrors await you tomorrow, at least just for one night, you were a Beauty, and he was your Beast.
hey so who wants to hear my overly complicated Gloomverse theories nobody okay cool that’s why i’m putting it under a cut
alright so all of this will be regarding ya boi indigo and will contain spoilers up until the current page (world leaders) so there’s your warning on that. MOVING ON
My out of left field theory: Indigo is Stratoversian. Okay listen hear me out dude, let me explain. I’ve got three main points of evidence to back me up:
1.) He has shown at least two examples of using lightning magic and other Stratoverse-associated powers
2.) His physical attributes
3.) Some good old Lore™
First point. We’ve seen at least three members of Stratoverse so far, those being Nim, Cirrus, and the Queen. But weirdly enough, other than basic changes of appearance and flight, we haven’t seen very much of alternate forms of their magic (which, going by Purple’s little lecture, is supposedly very powerful). The biggest insight into their magic is Cirrus, who’s demonstrated a few abilities. The most notable of which is lightning magic. We saw Indigo use lightning magic a few times—while he was working at the club, and when he attacked Evets at the magic show. He has another tendency—popping up places where, logically, he probably wouldn’t be able to go without either being noticed or stopped, *unless* he had access to flying magic. He (breaks and) enters the showbuilding through a window, but we see as Nim walks around the outside of the arena that there doesn’t appear to be any windows at ground level. In a stage setting like that, having windows at ground level is a risk to performers and may result in people getting in without a ticket—we don’t see his upper body as he’s climbing in, we just see him putting on his hat after he lands. Also, the hospital where Blue and Red are likely wouldn’t let someone waltz in, and he’s not exactly the right kind of charismatic to convince someone otherwise.
To move onto the second point, also for consideration is that when a Stratoversian reverts to a more… Gloomverse-esque form, the tendency that i’ve seen is a darker skin tone and lighter colored hair. His hair looks like the same sort of consistency and cut as Nim in particular. There’s also his outfit, which seems more in line with Stratoverse’s style—the collar, tendency towards jewelry and gloves, etc. Also the thick soles on his shoes, which might be rooted in the aversion to being on the ground.
Third point is Good Old Lore Time. CQ has mentioned outside of the comic itself that Stratoverse has much stricter social customs than Gloomverse. This is seen a little with Cirrus, for example. It makes sense that Indigo, being… like he is, wouldn’t enjoy that sort of intense social pressure. His personality being so forward and bold and somewhat impolite might also be an exaggeration of what he would usually act like, him acting out because he *can* since he’s now in Gloomverse, a much more free social atmosphere. His lisp may also be a factor that would make him want to leave Stratoverse, as stricter social norms would have even less tolerance for his speech impediment. Also, he’s clearly a pretty big flirt and it seems like courtship is a little more stiff in Stratoverse.
There’s a couple of points that add to this theory as well—the fact that the President hired him but apparently keeps him relatively secret, both for legal reasons and because of xenophobia. Also his odd sort-of-friendship with Pi, whose mom was apparently Ecoversian, would make sense in the context of them bonding over having alternative heritage. His apparent social disconnect might be attributed to this as well.
anyways this is probably gonna be debunked by @loverofpiggies in like two weeks but you know what i die as i lived. wrong, like, constantly.
i didn’t always hate isaac. i think i might’ve loved him once. (angst/smut)
The sex got better after we broke up.
I don’t know what kicked Isaac into gear, but for me, it was the anger. There’s just something about anger that makes you wanna dig your nails into a boy’s shoulders while he grips your thighs and slams into you, rough and unforgiving. We didn’t have any of that when we were dating, just timid touches and occasional, barely there orgasms. Maybe there’s something about hating a person that makes you crave their submission, that makes you demand your own release, over and over until you collapse because your body never learned how to handle all of it.
I didn’t always hate Isaac. I think I might’ve loved him once. We were friends before we became something more. But four months into dating, I turned the hallway at school one day to see him kissing another girl. The worst part wasn’t even that he had cheated; I almost expected that. Our relationship was hitting a plateau and things were becoming very vanilla, to put it concisely. The sparks from the initial flirting, the will-they-won’t-they stage, had fizzled out, and something had to give. I just didn’t expect Isaac to give it to another girl, shove his tongue down her throat, at school, where he knew others could see him, where he knew I could see them.
Looking back, I think he was trying to get caught. By that point, people already knew we were together, and what stung the most was the embarrassment. He hurt me so publicly. I don’t think I would’ve gotten that mad if Isaac had cheated on me privately, then dumped me. I probably would have forgiven him if he had confessed, direct and forthright, that he’d been with someone else. Honesty takes courage, but he’d taken the easy way out.
I told him we were done over a text, the one I sent him before I blocked his number. I could be cold too.
The pack figured out what he had done. Stiles was more vicious towards Isaac than usual. Even Scott, who usually defended Isaac, had distanced himself. Everyone huddled around me, and Lydia wouldn’t let me out of her sight in fear that being alone would make me depressed. They all tried to comfort me, even Derek, who usually liked to stay out of our, as he so lovingly put it, “teen soap opera.” I pushed them all away and at night, I cried quietly into my pillow. The last thing I needed was pity.
The first pack meeting after the fallout was uncomfortable, to say the least. It was a week after the fact. Seven days later, I finally saw Isaac, walking in with his head down, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. An unnerving tension had settled over the group. He sat on the opposite side of the room from me. I excused myself to leave early, and I promised myself that was the last time I’d ever let him make me feel small.
What I didn’t expect was that two weeks later, he’d slip noiselessly through my bedroom window and demand that I drop what I was doing so we could “talk things out.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” I said with measured restraint. I draped my hair over my face so he couldn’t see me clenching my jaw, gripping my pencil so tight the wood creaked.
“I know when you’re lying to me.”
“Congrats. Do you know when you’ve crossed a boundary? Because that’s what you’re doing right now. You can’t just sneak into my room and expect me to drop the world for you. We’re not…” Together anymore, I wanted to say, but I choked on the words. “Just, get out.”
“No. I can’t do this anymore, it’s driving me insane. You can’t keep ignoring my texts and calls. We can’t keep avoiding each other at school, pretending we don’t know each other. We can’t keep making our friends choose sides between us. We used to be able to talk–”
“But that was before, wasn’t it?” I interrupted bitingly. I turned around to face him, and it became obvious why he’d gone to such drastic measures to get through to me. He was a mess. His typical combed down curly hair was in disarray. Instead of his usual expensive sweater, cardigan, scarf, and pressed pants combo, he was wearing a faded old red Coca Cola t-shirt and ripped jeans. His eyes looked sunken and for the first time, his face was unshaven. His beard wasn’t combed and neat like Derek’s. It was patchy and the hair stuck out in all different directions. I knew I should’ve felt bad for him, but honestly, I was just glad he was suffering too. I inhaled. “Fine. You want to talk, then talk.”
Isaac sighed a deep tired sigh, and my leg twitched automatically. There was a time I would have leapt across the room and thrown my arms around his drooped shoulders at the first sign that he was distressed, but things were different now. I stayed put.
He sat down at the edge of my bed and tiredly rubbed his eye. “I just… I miss you.”
I blinked. “Fuck you.”
Isaac’s head whipped up. “What?”
I stood up and walked towards him slowly. “I said, fuck you. Fuck you for everything.” Isaac was on his feet, towering over me with his height. “Fuck you for everything you did, for cheating on me, kissing another girl in front of everyone, for embarrassing me,” I sneered. I was closing in on him now, and I had no idea what I was going to say or do next, but Isaac had triggered weeks of repressed anger and pain and I wasn’t going to let him waltz back into my life with three little words. “Fuck you for telling me you loved me, letting me believe things were great, then throwing everything in my face…” My voice was cracking, lip trembling, eyes brimming with tiny droplets of moisture, but I didn’t care.
Isaac scoffed. “You can’t seriously be telling me you thought everything was great. I know you felt it too. Things between us weren’t… okay anymore.”
I furiously brushed away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “So that makes it okay for you to cheat on me?”
“Of course not, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t tell you to your face that I thought we should break up because… well, it’s you.”
“It’s me? The fuck do you care about me?” I chuckled mirthlessly. “Fine. I’m sorry you felt so trapped by me that you had to cheat on me in front of the whole school to get me to break up with you.”
“Look, I’m not proud of what I did, but it wasn’t working with us! You know that. You know we were falling apart. But okay, fine. I’m a terrible person, I’m sorry I screw everything up–”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. Don’t act like you didn’t have control over your actions, like screwing me over was inevitable. Take some accountability for what you did, for sticking your tongue down that girl’s throat–oh. You know what? You really wanna talk? Let’s talk about her.”
Isaac sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. He looked down. “Come on. I really don’t want to talk about her.”
“Why not? She must be really important for you to ruin everything we had. I don’t even wanna know her name, or how long you were seeing her. I just wanna know one thing: how was she?”
“H-how was she?” he stuttered.
“Yeah, how was she?” I repeated slowly. “I wanna know, was she good? Was she mind-blowing? Was she everything you never got from me?” Isaac closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, like the petulant stubborn child he’d become. “Come on, Isaac. It’s the least you could do to answer me. Just tell me, did she put it down real nice for you, did she touch you just right? Did she spread her legs for you whenever you wanted? Did she let you inside her raw? Did she let you come inside her?” At this point, Isaac couldn’t take the heat, and he turned away. His cheeks were pink now, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. “I just wanna know, you know, because I need some tips. Maybe it’ll help me keep my man next time.”
“Stop,” Isaac gritted through his teeth. “That’s not why.”
“Obviously it is.” I roughly cupped his chin and forced him to look at me. “At least do me the courtesy of telling me the truth. Just tell me, you left because I wasn’t good enough. Tell me I wasn’t hot enough, tell me I wasn’t sexy enough for you. Tell me you didn’t want me.”
Isaac knocked my hand away. “Didn’t want you?” He ran his fingers through his messy hair in frustration. Now he was stalking towards me, slowly walking me backwards. “Shit, this is exactly why we didn’t work. We must’ve been in completely different words if you think I didn’t want you. I wanted you so much that it killed me that things were falling apart. Before we got together, you were all I thought about, but the moment we became official, something changed. I know you felt it too, the sudden awkwardness. We didn’t know how–we didn’t know who to be around each other after we became more than friends. You know that.” I shrugged noncommittally. There was truth in his retort, but I wasn’t going to tell him he was right. He’d backed me against my desk. His hands rested on the table on either side of me, trapping me in his space. “It still kills me that you think I didn’t want you, but that’s my fault. I didn’t tell you, did I?” he said softly.
“Tell me what?” I mumbled.
Isaac smirked, a dangerous turn in his mouth that sent shivers down my spine. He hadn’t look at me like this in a long time, not since before we were together, when I used to catch him smiling at me the same way. “I didn’t tell you how fucking sexy you are, baby. I didn’t tell you I had to fight to keep my hands off you, how I had to do fucking breathing exercises to refrain from having my way with you in dressing rooms when you tried on clothes for me…” Isaac leaned down and placed his mouth on my bare shoulder, brushed his lips against my collarbone. His hot breath fanned over my pulse point. “I didn’t tell you I can still hear your sweet little moans when I go to bed, never told you how fucking cute you are, how much I loved touching your beautiful tits, grabbing your ass. I still remember what you taste like, and you used to get so wet for me. If I could, I’d show you right now how much I want you, darling…” His mouth moved to my throat. He wasn’t kissing me exactly, just puckering his lips slightly, occasionally grazing my sensitive flesh with teeth.
I didn’t know if it was his intention all along to sneak into my bedroom and seduce me with dirty talk, this delicious filth he’d never uttered to me before. Maybe everything he’d ever told me had been a lie. Before, I trusted him completely, blindly believed everything. Now, the trust was lost, replaced by an aching desire, a painful longing for something I felt I deserved, reparations for the happiness he took from me. I was finally going to get mine.
“If you want me so bad, then prove it.” Gripping the curls at the back of his head, I pulled him away from my neck and slammed my mouth to his. We never kissed like this before. I remember our kisses used to be so sweet, so tender, so hesitant.
There was none of that now. Isaac’s hands left my desk and immediately found my waist, pulling me closer. His lips moved against mine hungrily, bruisingly. And then his hands were sliding down my sides. His fingers skimmed my ass briefly before gripping under my thighs. In an unexpected swoop, he’d scooped me up and placed me on my desk. My legs wrapped around his waist and my ankles locked together. Our bodies were aligned and I could feel his swollen arousal against my hip.
With newfound bravado, I slid my hand into his waistband and wrapped my fist around him, pumping him gently. Isaac growled lowly into my mouth and bit down on my bottom lip and tugged. I tasted blood. While I was occupied with jerking him off, he lifted the hem of my shirt and peeled it over my head, leaving me bare. His mouth attached to one of my pert nipples, his hand massaging the other. I arched my back to give him more access. He worked me with his tongue, swirled it around my sensitive bud, then kitten licked the tip. My toes curled and I used my legs to pull him closer into my center where I needed him most.
“Wait,” I panted. “Isaac, wait.”
He pulled away. “What is it?”
He certainly had no qualms with that. He scooped me up and carried me bridal style, then threw me on my mattress like I weighed nothing. I didn’t usually like being picked up, but there was something about when Isaac did it. I felt small, but safe in his arms. I guess before he thought I was too fragile, too human to be man-handled. If only he’d been tossing me around like this the whole time. He should’ve known I wasn’t breakable, and I planned on showing him just how unbreakable I really was.
Isaac took off his shirt, then peeled his pants down his legs. Left only in his black Calvin Kleins, he climbed onto my bed, moving to straddle me, but I had other plans. When he leaned down to reattach our lips, I shoved him backwards and pushed him down so he laid flat. I pinned down his wrists on either side of him and positioned my entrance over his semi. My shorts and his boxers still separated us, provided just enough friction to drive him mad.
Attaching my lips to his jaw, I moved my hips, swayed back and forth. Isaac whispered a strangled “f-fuck…” and I sped up my movements. I trailed my mouth down his neck, sucked harshly on his goosebumped flesh when he started to quiver. And that was my revenge: I’d take him to the brink of pleasure, then pull away, stop completely right before he was about to get what he wanted.
After the third time I blue-balled him, he had enough. Isaac released one hand from my hold and gripped my hair. He pulled me upwards and glared witheringly.
I smirked. “What is it?” I asked innocently.
“Cut the bullshit. What are you doing?”
“Aw, did you think I’d make this easy for you, baby?” I broke free from his grip and took hold of his fingers. I moved them down my abdomen and shoved them inside my underwear. His fingers curved naturally against my wetness. “Did you think you could just skip into my room, whisper some filth into my ears, and sweet talk your way into getting your dick wet?” His mouth opened slightly and he stared at me with confusion. I smiled. “What’s wrong? You look surprised.” I gently touched his cheek, stroked his hot skin. This jolted him into action and he began stroking my folds. “When you said you missed me, did you really mean me, or this? Did you miss my pussy, did you miss touching me, playing with me?” I gasped as his fingers worked me. “You can feel how wet I am, how warm it is inside. Did you miss spreading my pussy open like you’re doing right now? Did you–ah!–did you miss, miss playing with my clit between your fingers… just like that…” Isaac rolled my clit under his finger, quicker now. “Fuck, right there, don’t stop, oh god…” The tension coiling under my belly snapped, and I came with my head thrown back, unintelligible curses spilling from my lips.
I stayed straddling Isaac, breathing heavy to recover. I shuddered when Isaac pulled his fingers out and brushed them briefly against my overstimulated bundle of nerves. He dipped his fingers into his mouth, the movement sticky and slow and unlike anything he’d done before. “That was… new.”
I chuckled, then noticed the outline of his erection against his underwear. “Oh, look at you, all hard and big with nowhere to go,” I cooed. I folded down his underwear and discarded them. His cock bounced back and hit his stomach. My own arousal crept back, awakened by the sight of the prominent ridge that ran along his member. I reached out and wrapped my fist around his hardened shaft, swiveling my fist painstakingly slow, a torturous pace that I knew would drive him crazy.
“Come on, please,” Isaac whimpered. “I can’t hold on, I don’t think I can hold on…”
“But you’re going to, aren’t you? Because you’re not leaving here without what you came for, isn’t that right? Tell me why you came here, because it sure as hell wasn’t just to talk.”
“I…” When he hesitated to explain himself, I removed my hand and made to unstraddle his legs. “Wait, shit–fine. Don’t… don’t go. I came here because I wanted… this.” Isaac gripped my thighs and rubbed them, and brought my knees closer to his sides. “I really did want to clear the air, but… Amy–the other girl–I couldn’t do it with her,” he said quietly.
I raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t do it? Oh, wait, do you mean you couldn’t get it up?” I kept my expression neutral, but I was drinking celebratory champagne in my head. Things may have been dry between me and Isaac, but at least I didn’t cause him erectile dysfunction.
“Yeah. I just kept thinking about you.”
“So after everything you did, you still came back into my life, because your other girl couldn’t get you off?” Isaac stayed mute. I shook my head disbelievingly. “You know something, Isaac?” I maneuvered my shorts off and positioned Isaac’s cock at my entrance. I was already wet again, lips open and ready to take him in. “I hate you,” I groaned as I slid down, taking him in all the way to the base. Isaac shuddered as my warmth sheathed around him, and bracing my hands on his stomach, I pushed off again and again, fucked him the way he used to fuck me. Well, not exactly the way he used to; this was way better. I’d never even been on top before, too afraid to mess up, too afraid I wasn’t strong enough or sexy enough to be seen from underneath like this. I never knew how thrilling it could be to have control. “I hate you so much, Isaac. You’re such a fucking asshole,” I said breathlessly. And then I rolled my hips and rode his dick like a hot wave.
“Fuck, that’s so good,” Isaac grunted.
“You like that?” Isaac responded with a resounding smack against my ass, the sting from which he rubbed away. “You like it when I fuck you like this? You still thinking about Amy, or whatever her name is?” Isaac’s eyes were screwed shut, but I wanted him to see me. “Open your eyes, baby. I want you to see exactly who you hurt.” I leaned down so he could stare into my eyes as I unraveled him, stroke by stroke. Then, I kissed him, slow and deep, all tongues and teeth. He gripped my hips and held me still when my movements started to falter. I was close again. Isaac came first with stuttering hips. I remember before when he always used to make sure I was first, ever the gentleman. Now, he thrusted his semi into me, pumped as much as he could and played with my clit until I came for the second time.
My body couldn’t support itself upright anymore and I collapsed on the mattress beside him. No words were spoken in the aftermath. Minutes later, my heartbeat returned to its resting rate. There was nothing more I wanted from Isaac–at least not that night.
Somehow, I knew things would never really be over between us.
Even after all the pain and self-loathing he caused me, it became clear that this wouldn’t be the last time I opened my legs for him. The shame and disgust settled in.
I wanted to tell him to leave. I just didn’t have the energy to speak.
Isaac saved me the trouble because he was already getting out of bed. I watched his naked body shuffle around my room, locating and putting on various items of clothing. He lingered by my window.
“I don’t think I ever stopped loving you,” he said softly.
I chuckled emotionlessly and stared blankly at the ceiling.
“I don’t think I care.”
He tapped his fingers on my windowsill. “I’ll come by tomorrow night, then?”
You know, it’s too bad that I agree completely with the headcanon that Jounouchi would never touch alcohol. I just can’t see it, but- I’ve locked myself out of so many hilarious headcanons with this acceptance.
So instead I have jumped into the ‘Jounouchi as the fed up designated driver/babysitter’ head space.
Atem would be both his favorite and least favorite drinker because HE IS HILARIOUS when he’s drunk- Gets competitive and angry, 120% enthusiasm and 2% skill. He will try to duel a lamp and end up screaming over his lost gamer pride. But, he’s also painfully difficult to keep alive in that state, like he needs a leash and a police force to keep himself and others out of harm. So to help him in this endeavor Jou turns to-
Yuugi. He just wants to sleep when he’s drunk, so put him in a chair or bed or Atem’s lap and he (i.e. both) are happy. Atem doesn’t exactly melt at the contact, but he also isn’t about to foist off a sleepy partner, so he just sits there with a lap-full of Yuugi glaring murder at everyone else in the room while Yuugi just snores away.
Anzu just lets loose- She’s a laughing dancing happy mess. As long as she doesn’t have unlimited access to the alcohol - she has no ‘time to stop’ impulse - she’s fine. Jou just lets her waltz around the group pretty freely because she keeps the mood from getting stressed- Just watch the booze.
Honda wants to help you. He thinks you have drunk too much. That you need help sitting down. That you are in trouble. He trips over nothing trying to help you to a seat and groans on the ground. Dealing with him is a non-stop chorus of ‘It’s fine, we’re fine, we’re cool, just sit down Honda’.
Otogi gets more suave. Jou hates it. He just wants him to cool it for five seconds and stop showing everyone tricks with the shot glasses.
Bakura is terrifying. That’s it. He just becomes Yami no Bakura. Oh, he’s not trying to steal your items or find your missing name, but he will cackle and grin evilly at you and sneak the most gruesome horror flicks onto the screen. He honestly just thinks he’s being funny/friendly, but drunk!Atem thinks he’s the real deal.
Someone grab Yuugi.
I don’t care if he’s asleep on the coats get Yuugi and throw him at Atem lives are on the line here no not you, Honda, stay put- Goddamnit.
Kaiba is not there. He is not allowed. Jou said so from the beginning but the last time he crashed he and Atem destroyed a couch and he is not allowed in.
Characters : Jerome Valeska, Reader, Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock
Warnings : Cursing
Summary : (Y/n) wants to be a cop, just like her father Jim Gordon, but after following her father on a case gone wrong, she finds herself face to face with one of Gotham’s most feared psychopaths.
“C'mon, I’ve been studying this case, I’ve been watching the news, I’ve read the reports. I know what we’re up against and I know how to work this.” You scrambled around the station, following your father, Jim Gordon’s, every move. The moment he found out that the blind fortune teller was still in town, he was all over the place. You weren’t letting him leave without you again.
“That’s not the point, (Y/n).” You could tell he was holding back his annoyance with you. It was the same way he had been speaking to Lee since the second Essen announced that the Arkham inmates had escaped.
“I know the point. I’m telling you that I can do this. I could be the one to lead you to these loonies! All you have to is let me-” Your dad spun around on his heels, a fire in his eyes, and you knew you were getting on his last nerve.
“Enough! You’re not going!” He yelled, silencing the station for a good second and a half. Detective Bullock looked at you with raised brows before shaking his head almost apologetically. After your dad stormed off, Bullock walked towards you.
“You know how your dad gets when he’s stressed. As soon as this case is closed and Jermone Valeska is back in Arkham, everything will be back to normals.. or, as normal as things get around here.” Bullock put a hand out and you looked at him curiously before placing your hand in his. “You’re gonna be one hell of a cop one day, kid.” He told you, and you felt the paper pressed from his palm to yours and took it quickly.
“Thank you, Harvey.” You smiled at him, earning a nod in response. After he left behind your father, you finally looked at the paper.
The blind fortune teller’s address.
One good thing that came out of having such a strict father, you can move as quickly as a rabbit and as quietly as a mouse. These things come in handy while sneaking out of the house. You moved through the corridor, effectively staying far enough behind the two cops to not be caught, but close enough to hear what they were saying.
“You know, (Y/n) has the nerve and the determination that it takes for the job.” Harvey said and you smirked. That man was the only reason you were even allowed to leave the house, always talking some sense into your father. “She’s just like you, Jim.”
“Yeah, that’s what worries me.” Your dad replied and you shook your head, rolling your eyes. There was a knock on the door and you took your chance to peak around the corner, keeping one hand flat on the wall behind you so that you wouldn’t lose your balance. “GCPD! Mr Cicero, it’s detective Gordon. We need to speak about your son.” Your father called out. There was too much hesitation on the other side of the door. You wanted to yell for him to kick it in when you heard Mr Cicero groan in pain.
“Shit.” You cursed as your dad and Harvey kicked in the door, but you knew it was too late. You turned to hurry back down the hall when you heard commotion from inside the apartment.
“Harvey!” Your dad yelled and you were at the door in a flash. There was a blue smoke in the air and your dad was pushing past you, swaying on his feet. You crouched down beside Harvey as your dad fell over and then you moved to him.
“(Y/n), what are you-” He was out before he could finish and you were starting to feel the effect of the gas too.
“Oh, looky, looky! What do we have here?”
You tried to stand up and face the familiar voice but your vision was starting to blur. All you could see was a tall figure walking towards you, coming in and out of focus. The red hair and pale skin stuck a nerve within you and you instantly knew who it was stalking closer and closer.
“J-Jerome?” You stuttered out and you heard that cruel laugh you had only ever heard on the television.
“Have we met?” Jerome leaned towards you, and you hit the wall, trying to stay on your feet, but the air around you felt so heavy. You slid to the floor, your head lolling over as you lost consciousness. “I wonder who you belong to..” The red headed maniac looked between you and Harvey. “Unlikely.” He reached into your pocket, pulling out what looked to be a student ID. “(Y/n) Gordon. Now, that, I can see. Well, babydoll, you’re coming with me.” Jerome picked up your limp figure, tossing you over his shoulder. “Sorry, old pal, better luck next time, huh?”
You could hear the footsteps around you, pacing and tapping as you started to regain your consciousness. Your head spun for a moment and then you could open your eyes. He was there. He was just watching you, like a snake stalking its prey and you were just the snack he was looking for.
“I didn’t know Detective Gordon had a daughter.” Jerome moved forward, crouching down so that he was at your level. You still felt weak, but you were awake. You tugged on your wrists only to find them tied down to a chair, along with your feet. “What a paranoid guy that Jim is, keeping you all locked away for no one to find. It’s like he thought someone would steal you away from him or something! Oh, wait..” Jerome laughed at that. You looked around as the boy babbled on, cracking jokes about your situation. It seemed to be only the two of you in the room right now, but there had to be other people in the building. You thought about screaming, but before you could even open your mouth, Jerome gripped you by the jaw. He smirked as you glared daggers into his green eyes. “You’re so pretty.” He pressed his face against the side of yours, inhaling your scent. “And you smell so sweet.. I wonder if you taste-” He leaned in to press his lips against yours, but you jumped suddenly, snapping your teeth in an animal like manner.
“Piss off.” You growled when the ginger jumped back from you only to burst out in laughter.
“Oh, I like you.” He pointed a finger in your face and it took a lot of restraint not to try to bite him again. “You’re going to be so much fun to play with.” Jerome held your face with both of his hands, pressing his forehead against yours.
“What are you going to do to me?” You asked, the reality of the situation beginning to sink in. You were being held captive. You didn’t know for sure if your father and Harvey made it out of that apartment complex. And you were face to face with one of the most feared serial killers in Gotham at the moment. You might not make it out of this one alive, and for what? Because you wanted to play detective?
“I’m going to set you free.” Jerome shrugged, pulling away from you. You furrowed your brows in confusion. He wouldn’t just be letting you waltz on out of here. That wasn’t in his nature.
“Set me free?” You uttered.
“You’re a prisoner of your own mind, my pretty little detective, and I’m going to be your hero.” He spun around a few times, making a show out of his little speech. “You see, with a father like Jim Gordon, who wouldn’t be a little crazy?” Jerome laughed and you shook your head in annoyance. “I’m just going to help you embrace the craziness that I see in those big (y/e/c) eyes of yours.. and then, you’ll be free.” He left you with a smile that sent a shiver down your spine, and then, you were alone in the room.
You threw your head back, thinking of how scared your father must be. “What have I gotten myself into?” You whispered to no one.
hello! this is the first installment of my POC series and it includes small blurbs with tom, sam, harry and harrison! i’m going to try to make them gender neutral too (i try really hard to be inclusive i’m sorry if i slip up sometimes). as a woman of color in the fandom, i see the lack of diversity in fandoms (also, saw @tomhollandcouk‘s post ((which you can find here)) and it inspired me, i love u shu) and i want to try to remind others to be diverse/contribute to being more diverse as well! so let me know what you think :)
What makes Ardyn such a breakout character to me is he’s two things I don’t think I’ve ever seen done before:
1) An immortal character who is the logical conclusion of an old person
There’s those people who, once they get old, they run straight up out of fucks to give. So Ardyn is basically just that but more so. Dude’s been everywhere and seen everything, and he is taking full latitude to do what he feels like. Usually immortal characters are either entirely grim and mysterious or just act like everybody else. You don’t often see ones who take the accumulation of endless life experience and manifest it through enjoying themselves being a weirdo.
2) A villain who is the logical conclusion of the trend of villains who help you
The bad guy
helping you out for a while is video game tradition by now, and it goes back a few steps in the game narrative
evolution. Having somebody who’s there to help you along the story
and tell you what to do is video game tradition, since we started out
with a lot of silent protagonists back in the day, so you needed
somebody to explain what was going on and set you in the right
direction. That naturally lead to wanting to make that voice into
somebody more active in the narrative, and of course since they’re
somebody you trust, clever meta stuff like the original Metal Gear
and System Shock 2 used that to pull the rug out from under you by having them turn out not to just be the voice of the game telling you how to get to the next screen, but an actor in their own right with their own goals. The since we’re still in the habit of going into an area, getting contacted by somebody, and then doing what they say, we get stuff like Bioshock and Spec Ops The Line that is specifically about why that is a terrible idea.
The thing about all of those is there’s a turning point. It’s a shocking betrayal. They help you along, the betrayal comes out, they try to kill you, you beat them. (Or not, in the case of the one where the last boss is your guilt about the war in Afghanistan.)
Ardyn never does that. He doesn’t have a
sudden shocking betrayal, since nobody trusted him to begin with. Him stabbing Luna is more of an open, “Well, here’s the thing you were pretty sure was coming in one way or another.” (And is also an echo of the famous Sephiroth and Aeris scene, except with him doing his role hilariously half-assedly and letting Leviathan do most of the work.)
He also never turns and tries to stop you. Start to finish, his goal is exactly the same: get you through the plot and to the part where you kill the bad guy. He’s basically, in an interestingly slightly fourth-wall-leaning way, the one enforcing the will of the game itself.
What does a game want? For you to beat it.
Of course, it can’t just let you waltz through. It has to give you challenges so you can overcome them. This is an understandable behavior from a game. What’s great is how FFXV translates that behavior into in-world in-character actions, with the understanding that a guy constantly throwing obstacles in your way to make you stronger would be a weird asshole.
What struck me in Zegnautus Keep is Ardyn is not even pretending to try to stop you. He’s constantly making sure the way forward is annoying yet possible. He does the game’s work of providing exposition, most hilariously on Gladio and Ignis’s side, where he practically has a video queued up for them.
While he has that one line about killing Noctis once the Crystal’s power is absorbed, he sure doesn’t put a lot of effort into making that convincing. He has the other three right there and just walks away. He doesn’t really want to kill Noctis or the bros any more than a game wants you to quit and go do your taxes or something.
The game and Ardyn both want you and Noctis to beat them, and assuming they get you to stick all the way through, they win.
Halloween Spirit- Creepypasta Boyfriend Scenarios [When He Confesses]
[f/n]= first name
When He Confesses
Lately, my captor has been acting odd. Which, quite frankly, is making me really nervous. He has become kind of distant, almost like he’s avoiding me. I have no idea what he’s thinking, or what he’s planning. Is this it? Has he decided to finally kill me off? I thought we were close, that we were actually friends. I seriously screwed up by letting my guard down. I let myself forget, but the reality is that he is psychotic. Who knows when he’ll snap?
“Slendie?” I call hesitantly. Lately, he has been locking himself in the library and refuses to let me be near him. I have no idea what it is I did wrong. He doesn’t respond, so I try one more time. “Slendie?”
“Not now, [f/n],” he replies beyond the closed oaken doors. “I’m preoccupied at the moment, so I request you to leave me be.”
“Oh….well, ok. I’ll see you later, then,” I respond, hurt by his words. I keep my hand planted against the door for a little longer before dejectedly walking away. If Slendie is bored of me, angry, or whatever it is that is going on with him, what does that say about my future? He’s never endangered my life before, but he is known for killing people. Maybe he’s done with me.
You’d think I’d be fearful for my life, but more than anything, I’m just plain hurt. I glance outside a window, trees surrounding everything. I’ve never left the manor without Slendie before, but surely I’m allowed outside on my own. After all, escape is futile when Slendie can teleport to wherever I am. Unable to handle being inside the manor with its stifling atmosphere any longer, I decide to get some fresh air. So I head out the door, without Slendie by my side.
I thought being outside would cheer me up, but my thoughts become more prominent as I walk past the endless stretch of trees. I find myself getting more depressed the longer I walk. I become so lost in my thoughts that time flies by without me noticing. It’s only when I notice the forest is much more darker than usual that I realize it is night time. And, of course, I’m lost. Getting lost in this forest is unavoidable. But what really upsets me is that it’s night time, and Slendie still hasn’t come to bring me back to the manor.
I settle down on the ground and wrap my arms around my knees, trying to huddle for warmth in this cold night air. Maybe if I wait long enough, Slendie will come and get me. I know trying to walk back is impossible. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe this is my opportunity to escape. I mean, this much time has passed without him bothering to fetch me. If I wander around long enough, I’m bound to find a way out of the forest. After all, while very few, peoplehave managed to escape before. Slendie’s powers only work in the confines of this forest and other certain areas, so if I escape, I’m safe.
Except….I don’t want to leave him. Which is completely crazy. He’s a monster, for Christ’s sake. I should be fleeing him without a second thought. But monster or not, he’s been nothing but a gentleman to me. He’s kind, gentle, caring, supportive. He’s better than most men I’ve met in my life. And to the other Creepypastas, he’s like a mother/father figure to them. He takes care of them despite their flaws, their disfigurements, their fragile minds. I mean, I don’t know why it is that he kills people, but I know there is some good in him. And that goodness in him makes me want to stay.
So I stay in place, waiting for him to find me. But if he doesn’t get me by morning….I’ll leave. Time passes for what feels like forever, and still no sign of Slendie. When I think he might really not come, my eyes start to sting. I try not to, but I end up crying. I bury my face onto my knees as tears silently trickle down my face and stain my jeans.
“[f/n]?” a voice gently calls me. It’s Slendie. But I don’t want to look at him, for my face is surely blotched from crying. So I quietly keep my face buried, not trusting my voice to not break with tears. “[f/n], what’s wrong?” I feel a hand grip my shoulder, providing warmth. But I remain quiet.
I hear him sigh, then suddenly I’m scooped into his arms. “Wha- no, Slendie!” I cry, my hands flying to my face to cover it up.
“You were crying, were you not?” he prods. I don’t respond, because I really don’t want to admit it. We stay like this, silence surrounding us, before Slendie eventually says, “Do you want to leave, [f/n]?”
I pull my hands away in shock. “What?” I breath, caught off guard.
“If you do not want to be here, I can return you to your home,” he tells me. He’s offering to let me go? Any fear I had of him evaporates into the air. Unable to help it, I’m bawling once again. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.
“I-I thought y-you h-hated me!” I stumble out through the tears. “Y-you didn’t want m-me around any-anymore, so I thought, I thought you were t-through w-with me.” I hate this! I hate crying in front of him! But the relief that flooded through me broke the dam I had built to contain my emotions.
“No!” Slendie cries, his composure crumbling. “If I tired of you, you would not be alive. But I could never tire of you. The reason I did not want you around me is that, well, I was researching matters concerning you.”
“What matters?” I ask him, a hiccup escaping my lips. At least the crying slowed a bit.
“There is something different about you, [f/n],” he tells me seriously. “You are human, yet not quite. Similar to Jeff and Toby, you have an aura about you that makes you different from the average human. And yet, you’re not exactly like Jeff and Toby, or I would know it. I have not met one like you, so your circumstances are rather curious to me. But….some of the information I have gathered could concern you. I do not want to worry you, so I tried to keep you away from all of it.”
“Why would it worry me?” I ask.
Slendie merely shakes his head. “I want to make sure my information is accurate before I inform you. But, will you stay with me?”
“Yes,” I reply softly. “Honestly, I’ve grown rather attached to you and the others.”
Slendie squeezes me slightly, and if he had facial features, something tells me he would be smiling. “[f/n]?” he ventures.
“I have grown rather fond of you. That is, what I mean to say is, I have fallen in love with you,” he tells me, nervousness slipping into his words.
My face flushes in heat as I stare at him, wide eyed. “I-I…,” I stumble out. I never realized it. And what about me? These feelings I have for Slendie, is it love? It all hits me in a rush. Yes, this is love. I’ve never met someone as good to me as Slendie is, and I’ve fallen for him harder than I thought could be possible. Haha, I’m truly crazy. “I love you, too.” I tell him.
He manages to life a hand to stroke my hair off of my tear stained face. “Shall we return home?” he asks me, loving warmth wrapped around his words.
I smile lovingly at him in return. “Of course,” I respond warmly.
“Ben?” I call to the powered off T.V. It has been turned off for days now, meaning days have passed since I’ve last seen Ben. It has me really worried. Is he sick? Did he run into some kind of problem? Does he need help? Without Ben around for me to ask questions, I had turned to Slendie, but he tells me there is nothing to worry about. Ben is simply remaining in the digital world, for whatever reason. But the worry is still there, and I wonder if he is merely avoiding me. If so, what did I do? Is it because I kept beating him at video games?
“Ben, please answer me,” I beg. Silence. Well, I don’t want to piss him off, but maybe if I play Majora’s Mask, he’ll interact with me. So I turn on the T.V.,place the cartridge into the console, and grab the controller. The menu pops up, but instead of clicking my file, I click the one titled BEN. I roam around for a while, playing the game normally and hoping Ben will show up. I play for hours straight, but still no Ben. But I’m not one to give up, so I keep playing despite my body complaining.
Eventually, text shows up saying, ‘You’ve met a terrible fate.’
“Ben?” I call. “What’s going on?”
‘You should have left when you had the chance,’ new text says.
I scoff at the message. “Oh, sure, just let me waltz right out of here,” I say sarcastically. “Seriously, though, I don’t want to leave. Believe it or not, I’m having fun here. I’ve always fantasised being in this situation. I admit, at first, I was utterly terrified. But now that we’re friends, I think everything is actually pretty awesome here.”
I stay silent for a moment, something dawning on me. “Do you want to get rid of me?” I ask quietly. Fear edges into me at the thought. Am I an annoyance to him now? What if he decides to get rid of me? Out of everyone here, Ben is the only one who doesn’t kill anybody. He just scares the shit out of people. I thought I was safe with him, but what if I’m wrong?
But suddenly Ben’s face appears on the screen, eying me. “Why do you like it here?” he questions me.
I’m caught off guard, but I recover enough to respond. “Are you kidding me? Everyone here is like straight out of a horror story. I worship this stuff! Plus, I get to play so many video games with the best gaming partner ever.”
Ben’s lips twitch ever so slightly into a small smile, but he still looks forlorn. “I kidnapped you. You’re a normal human being, even if something seems different about you. Me, I’m just a digitised ghost. We’re utterly different. You don’t belong here. You should just leave.”
I cross my arms stubbornly. “Ben, get out of there,” I demand.
He scoffs at me. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” he asks challengingly.
“A normal human being,” I respond. “Please, Ben, just do it.” He doesn’t argue, and soon he materializes in front of me. I lift my hand and ruffle his hair, then move my hand to his cheek to pinch his skin. “Ouch!”
“Some ghost you are,” I say as I poke at his cheek. “What kind of ghost can be physically touched? And can have awesome powers that control the digital world? You’re the coolest ghost ever, if you ask me.” His cheeks color at my compliment, and I continue. “Everyone here is different, you know. The fact that I’m not like you guys at all makes me different, too, so I’m not exactly normal. But Ben, I’ll ask again. Do you want to get rid of me?”
“No!” he exclaims a little too loudly. He clears his throat embarrassedly and tries again. “No. I just thought you wanted to leave, is all.”
“Well, I don’t, so if you’re done brooding, let’s get our game on,” I say with a grin as I toss him a controller. I insert the first game I find, too thrilled that everythings resolved to care what we play.
However, before we can start the game, Ben says, “[f/n]?”
“Hmm?” I hum.
He edges close to me, his finger tracing my lips. My heart jumps to my throat as he smirks at me. “What kind of ghost can be physically touched,” he murmurs as he spreads his hand across my cheek. “What kind of ghost falls in love with a human?”
“B-Ben what are y-you-,” I stumble out, but he interrupts me.
“I love you,” he tells me, his voice husky.
“I, um, I, uh,” I stutter out. I swallow heavily and scramble away from him. My heart pounds rapidly, and I can’t deny that I, too, am in love. But my heart is beating too fast and my breathing is too irregular for me to speak. Ben looks stung, like I had slapped him. I quickly grab my phone and start rapidly clicking buttons. I shyly hold up the phone, the message, ‘I love you, too,’ displayed on it.
Ben blinks in surprise, but then breaks into a wide grin. “Then come here and be my player two,” he demands. I smile warmly at him as I scoot over to where he is. I settle beside him, but then he says, “Nope, wrong spot.” His hands grip my shoulders and suddenly I find myself sitting in his lap. “That’s better.”
I bite down the giddy giggle that bubbles in my throat, and instead say, “Let’s play.”
“Jeff?” I say questioningly. “What are you doing?” One minute we’re watching a horror movie, the next he’s all up in my face. His eyes are narrowed like a snake’s as he inspects me.
“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.
“That’s never good,” I say with a smile.
But he ignores my comment. “What is it about you?”
“Um, what do you mean?” I ask, confused. His hand reaches out and tugs a strand of my hair. “Ouch! What was that for?”
“Why won’t I kill you?” he asks to himself, a question that makes me nervous. Honestly, I don’t know the answer to that question. And if Jeff doesn’t either, what reason does he have to keep me alive? His eyes glint with confusion and something else, something dangerous.
“Jeff?” I call his name a bit fearfully. My eyes widen when he slowly pulls out his knife. “Jeff!” I see hesitation flash in his eyes, but it doesn’t stop his knife from swinging through the air. I swiftly throw myself to the ground, avoiding the knife. I scramble to my feet and dash to the doorway. I feel a hand grip my arm roughly and I am tossed to the floor. Jeff’s face is soon close to mine as he pins me to the ground. He lifts the knife, as if to stab me, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
“Why?” he hisses. “I could kill my family! But why can’t I kill you?”
Tears pour down my face as I start to sob. “Jeff, do you hate me?” I ask, my voice trembling. I could be begging for my life, yet that is the question that spills from my mouth.
Jeff doesn’t respond as he stares at me. Tears continue to trickle down my face as I stare into his eyes. Eventually, I hear the knife clatter to the ground. “No, I don’t,” he whispers as he wipes the tears off my face. “I thought I didn’t need anyone. Family, friends, nobody. Yet you prance into my life, and suddenly I have someone I need. I hate it.”
I swallow my tears as I lift my hand. I stroke his cheek softly, refusing to remove my eyes from his. “If you hate it, why don’t you kill me? I’ll be gone and you won’t need me anymore.” What the hell am I saying? But yet, the words spill forth from my mouth, my heart painfully throbbing with the question. I….I love Jeff. I love him, but if he wants to be rid of me….The thought stabs at my heart as I stare at him, my eyes begging for his answer.
“That’s just it. I can’t!” he exclaims. “The thought of you being gone hurts, and it shouldn’t. I threw all negative feelings away. I always felt so, so good afterwards. And when you came along, I felt even better! But then I started imagining you leaving, or you dying, and I became scared. Me, scared, for Christ’s sake! And I felt anguish and loneliness, feelings I had sworn to never feel again. So I wanted to get rid of you, to get rid of the source of those emotions. But….I couldn’t.”
“I won’t leave,” I say softly. “You’re a jerk, you know that? You steal me away from my life, but not only that, you steal my heart to boot! I love you, Jeff, and it kills me. You go and do things that hurt me like this, but then you show me a part of yourself that reminds me of a scared child. I don’t know how I should feel about you!” I sniffle as more tears leak from my eyes. Damn my heart for falling for a psychopath!
“You love me?” Jeff asks incredulously.
“Yes, damn it!” I snap. “Despite everything you’ve put me through, I’ve come to need you, too. You’re not all bad, you know. Like how you’re so protective of me, or how you always try to make me smile, or how you’re always making me laugh with your snide remarks…,” I notice Jeff is smirking at me at this point. I blush embarrassedly as I tear my gaze from his eyes.
However, his hand forces me to look back at him. “Besides losing you, you know what else I was scared of?” he asks.
“What?” I mumble.
“The thought that you would never love me,” he responds. “You see, turns out I fell in love with you. But I never thought you’d feel the same.” I can’t help it as sobs start to shake my body, my system overloaded with relief. Alarmed, Jeff sits up, bringing me with him. He holds me against him as he rubs my back comfortably. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice coated in guilt.
“I-I thought y-you w-were going to, to kill me!” I sob. “Th-that you hated me!”
“I love you,” he whispers over and over as he rocks me soothingly. I sob until all of the fear, tension, and anguish is out of my system. Then, when it’s all over, I let love wash over me.
“I love you too, you idiot,” I mumble against his neck. I feel him shiver as my lips move against his skin. “And if you ever do something like that to me again, I’m going to use all those self-defense moves you taught me against you.”
He laughs at my threat. “Trust me, darling, it’ll never happen again! You’re my property, and I can’t damage my treasure.”
Why did I have to fall for an idiot? Idiot or not, though, he’s officially my idiot.
“Hey, Toby I-Toby?” I stop in mid sentence when I see that Toby is hunched over as he sits on his bed. Gloominess surrounds the air like a heavy fog, something that is extremely abnormal for Toby. His head is cradled in his hands, depression weighing him down. “Toby, what’s wrong?” His head shifts as he glances in my direction, but he doesn’t respond. I quietly sit on the bed beside him. “You can talk to me.”
“I know why I was drawn to you,” he says quietly.
“What do you mean?” I gently ask him.
“When I first met you, I mistook you for my sister,” he continues. “My sister, she died a long time ago. You had a warm, welcoming air about you. When I saw you, I immediately felt at home. Like I did with my sister.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell him sadly as I rub his back comfortingly.
“I had amnesia,” he tells me abruptly. “I didn’t remember her, or anything about my past. But now, I remember everything.” His body starts to tremble as his twitching increases in frequency. “I-I killed h-him! I b-burned everything! I-I-I-!”
I stop his ranting as I pull him into my arms. “Hush, now,” I whisper gently. “It’s ok, Toby, I’m right here for you. It’s alright.”
He holds on to me desperately as he trembles violently. He takes deep, shuddering breaths before continuing. “I became a m-monster. I k-killed my own dad, I b-burned my house. I destroyed m-my family.”
“Why?” I ask him as I stroke his head. At this point, Toby killing people doesn’t phase me (a fact that bothers me, but it’s a fact nonetheless). But for some reason, he’s really shaken up by this revelation. I need to know why he was driven to be who he is now.
His nails dig into my back as he tries to explain, but I ignore the pain. “I-I was tired. Of dealing w-with my d-dad. His beatings, his dr-drunkness, his shouting. I couldn’t d-deal with the abuse an-anymore. With my si-sister gone, I just couldn’t. So I k-killed him. And forgot e-everything.”
“Oh, Toby,” I breath as I hold him even tighter. I feel a fury burn inside of me at the thought of Toby’s dad abusing him. How dare he! “It wasn’t your fault! Your dad had no right to do what he did, you didn’t deserve it. He was a worthless piece of shit who wasn’t even capable of loving his own son. He deserved what happened to him. You are not a monster.”
“I-I’m not?” he whimpers.
“Of course you’re not. You’re human, just like me. Nothing more, nothing less,” I assure him.
His grip on me relaxes as he calms down. “[f/n]?” he says questioningly.
“I really love you,” he says as he snuggles against my neck.
“W-what?” I stumbled out, my heart picking up in pace.
“I love you lots!” he tells me, his usual cheerfulness returning to his words.
I bury my face in his shoulder, his hair tickling my face. I find it hard to breath, let alone speak! But I have to say the words that have been floating around in my head for a long time now. “I love you, too,” I mumble. He pulls away so he can rub his nose against mine. “T-T-Toby! No, stop!” I don’t think my heart can take it!
“Say it again!” he demands.
“I-I love you,” I say shyly.
“No!” I cry.
“Aww, please?” he begs.
“I have a lifetime to tell you I love you, ok?” I tell him.
“I love you,” he tells me warmly.
I fell in love with such a goofball. No matter what others say, he’s no monster.
“Jack, can you please explain yourself?” I ask, irritated and confused. It’s the middle of the night, and I wake up to find a blue mask watching me silently. Hey, at least I avoided having a heart attack after screaming my lungs out!
“I was hungry,” Jack mutters.
“And?” I prod.
“I was going to eat your liver,” he says bluntly. Wait, what!?
“What!?” I shriek. “Jack, get off me!”
“But I don’t want your liver, after all,” he continues. “I want your heart.” He trails his finger from where my liver would be to where my heart is, causing said heart to beat uncontrollably.
“Are you being serious?” I ask nervously. Maybe Jack is pulling my leg? I really hope so. But sadly, he’s not. As he pulls out a surgical knife, my stomach drops. “Jack, no!” I shove him off me, dashing for the door. I make it out and I continue to run aimlessly down the halls, hoping to outrun him. But Jack is extremely fast, and quiet on his feet. One glance behind me reveals he is right on my heels. An intake of air meant to catch my breath becomes a shrill scream as I feel myself being tackled to the floor. I struggle against him, but all my effort is futile.
“Shh,” Jack breaths to silence me. “It’s ok. It won’t hurt.”
“I’ll die, Jack!” I sob.
“No, it’ll be a transplant,” he tells me, trying to be reassuring. But it fails epicly as I try to struggle harder. “Then your heart will belong to me.”
“Why do you even want my heart?” I ask him, tears choking me.
“Because I don’t want anyone else to have it. You belong to me, and me only.”
“What?” I say, utterly confused. “You don’t need to cut out my heart for me to belong to you! That’s not how it works!”
He tilts his head in confusion. “But if I have it, no one else will.”
“But that doesn’t mean I’ll belong to you,” I say, trying to remain calm. Surely I can talk him out of this. Jack has done some pretty weird shit for as long as I’ve known him, but he is still able to be sensible. “In order to belong to you, I have to choose to belong to you.”
His grip on me relaxes as my words soak in. “Then, do you choose to belong to me?” he asks.
“It depends,” I say softly. “Why do you need me to belong to you?”
“Because…,” he trails. “Because, I….I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Your answer determines if I can belong to you or not,” I push.
“There is a human word for it. What was it?” he asks himself. I say nothing as I wait for him to think about it. Eventually, he whispers, “Love. I think I am in love with you.”
I sigh in relief. “If I belong to you, does that mean you will never kill me or cut me up?” I ask. I have to be sure!
“I would never kill you!” Jack exclaims, louder than I have ever heard him. “And I would have no reason to ever cut you up.”
“Good,” I say with a warm smile. “Because I love you, too. My heart belongs to you, without you having to cut it out. But please, can you get off of me now?”
“Yes,” he replies as he helps me to my feet. His hand continues to grip mine, spreading warmth to my cold hand.
“And please, don’t ever, ever do something like that again,” I demand sternly.
“Ok,” he replies, sounding embarrassed as well as guilty. I guess he realizes that his behavior was way too much.
“Good. Now come on, let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted. After,” I emphasise, “you put away that knife.”
“Ok. Can I sleep with you?” he asks, sounding like a little boy.
“Of course, but no funny business,” I say with a smile as I pull him to my bedroom.
He’s utterly dangerous, but truly, he’s just different from everyone. But I know I can handle him, because I understand him best. I love my psycho, despite everything. Maybe I’m a psycho, too?
It was honestly getting out of hand. This is not what Tasha had in mind
when she had the airport evacuated. It was more to make sure Barnes doesn’t
accidentally hurt someone and maybe avoid people snapping pictures and tweeting
about Avengers arguing with each other. And what the fuck was Clint doing here?
Admittedly, she could have left a more detailed explanation with Vision as to
why Wanda was confined to the compound though she thought that Wanda was
intelligent enough to draw her own conclusions. Apparently she wasn’t.
“Is this part of the plan?” Nat asked after Tasha helped her up.
“No, this definitely was not part of the plan. Damn Rogers and his ‘punch-the-way-out’
mindset. Want to switch it up?”
“Sure.” It was with practiced ease that Iron Woman had Black Widow in tight
but safe grip, flying short way across the landing strip in order to land in
the path of Cap’s team.
“Captain Rogers… I know you believe what
you’re doing is right. But for the collective good…you must surrender now.”
It pained her how incredibly like J.A.R.V.I.S. Vision sounded sometimes. But
the good captain apparently was not listening if the advancing was anything to
go by. Well fuck.
“They are not stopping.” She could have
gone without kid’s comment. In a matter of seconds they were beating each other
again. It was insane. And she had run out of patience. “Vision, take out the
quinjet. It seems they won’t stop until they reach it.” Tasha instructed,
dodging the shield Rogers threw at her.
The android disengaged his fight with the
newcomer with the suit that could apparently enlarge as well as shrink; and
turned his attention to the open hangar where the powered down quinjet was
waiting. Iron Woman’s instruction was sound. Taking out a way to escape reduced
the probability of prolonged fighting. Checking yet again if there was someone
around the hangar, short beam of yellow energy burst from the gem on his
forehead and the quinjet was reduced to a smoking pile of scrap. It was a shame
really, for Tasha Stark took great pride in designing and building it. The
resulting explosion served as a short moment of pause as the realization of no
escape settled on Captain America’s team.
“I will say it one last time!” There was
no restraint in anger that boomed from Iron Woman. “Stand the fuck down!”
Spider-man used the distraction to shoot
copious amount of webbing at Hawkeye, Falcon and Scarlet Witch, effectively
pinning them to the ground. It was after all the reason why she brought him to
Germany in the first place. The close contact combat was not it. Black Panther
had Barnes pinned as well, Black Widow was eyeing the man in giant form with
all the suspicion of the world whilst War Machine was hovering near him as
well, ready to act at any sudden move. For the first time since this whole
shitty mess started, Captain America looked indecisive and unsure. It was more
than likely because his only effective way out was blown up. Looking at his now
subdued teammates, he let the shield he retrieved fall from his hand. “You’re
making a mistake Tasha.”
“Then it is mine to make. As it was your
mistake in deciding to not contact me before this fight went down or even to
listen to me back at the task force.” She turned to Black Widow. “Please inform
Everett Ross to send a transport for everyone.”
The giant man finally shrunk down to the
normal size, hands raised up in surrender. She would find out exactly what his
name was later. “Stay put Rogers.” Tasha ordered when he moved to follow her
approach to Barnes, reinforcing it with a raised gauntlet waiting to fire off
an energy blast. The helmet collapsed when she kneeled in front of Barnes. “Who
am I talking to right now?”
“Sergeant James Barnes, serial number
“It’s nice to meet you at last Barnes. I
believe I have something to help with your conditioning problem.”
“Steve didn’t mention that.”
Tasha snorted. “Yes, I am beginning to
learn how elective he is with words. We’ll discuss it later.”
Black Widow returned with small caravan
of SUV’s and prisoner transport trucks in tow, gear was taken away, handcuffs
were slapped on and everyone made their way back to Berlin. Tasha was already
having a headache just thinking about conversations that were to be had in
about two hours. Making sure Spider-man was safely on board her private jet
with Happy, Tasha slipped into the backseat of the black SUV; content to find
out that there was no one else in it. She just needed a quiet minute or two.
“You know you are not obligated to talk
to them any further. That is actually my job at this point.”
Why did she stop drinking? Because she
could fucking use one right now. “I like you much better than the other Ross.
So if you could just let me deal with this shit please? I promise you can hash
out all the details on them later because frankly I am just about done.”
The shorter man eyed her, finally
shrugging his shoulder and pointed to the heavily guarded conference room where
the rogue Avengers as media was already calling them were being kept. He made
it crystal clear that they should be in cells already but he was not going to
go against the higher ups. And seeing the plain exhaustion of her face, he
decided that the woman should have some sort of satisfaction out this entire
clusterfuck. “You look ready to keel over.” Nat commented bluntly, matching her
steps with Tasha’s.
“Let’s just get this over with, okay? I
really don’t want to talk about anything else.” Two women already found Rhodey,
Vision and T’Challa sitting at the same table, facing the other team with
expressions varying from unconcealed anger to pensive curiosity. “Are the
handcuffs really necessary?”
“I’m not here for chit chat, Rogers.”
Rhodey snorted loudly and Tasha rolled
her eyes. “You have unbelievably single track mind, it’s amazing. You people
collectively broke more international laws than most terrorists do and you keep
yapping about your best friend. He’s fine; I negotiated with Ross to have him transferred
to one of my facilities under heavy guard just in case the other Ross had any
bright ideas. We-” she motioned to her team. “Are here to talk about the
supposed Winter Soldiers.”
“Oh, so now you care?” Clint shot out,
not even attempting to hide his discontent.
“Mr. Barton.” T’Challa cut in before Tasha
could speak again. “The entire defense of your team sits on this supposed
threat. Make no mistake; your position is very precarious.”
“Barnes already gave us some intel, we
just want to corroborate that he told you the same thing.”
“And then what?”
Vision leaned forward in his seat. “And
then captain Rogers, we are going to go and investigate the validity of those
claims. I believe they will be taken into account when joint counter terrorism
centre brings up the charges. I believe Mr. Ross has far more detailed
explanation of how things will proceed from here.”
“And the Russians are just going to let
you waltz in their backyard?” Sam sounded guarded and doubtful.
“Considering they have to deal with
public backlash of Barnes being used as KGB’s assassin and likelihood that they
have been storing several more on ice all this time after everything that
happened, yes, they will let us just waltz into their backyard.” Rhodey ground
“Look, we will check this either way
Rogers. You cooperating might do you some good. Time to start using that head
of yours for something other than punching and thinking about your war buddy.”
“You mean compromise?”
Tasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not
this again Rogers. I am not talking about this with someone who has not even
read the Accords. None of you did, I bet.”
“You owe it -” “Enough Captain.” T’Challa
was on his feet now. This was not how they discussed making their marriage
public knowledge but he could not stand to watch any longer to his wife’s
former team mate look at her like she was ultimate disappointment in his life. “My
wife does not owe you or anyone here anything beyond the common curtsey of
One could hear a needle fall in the room
that is how silent it was. Steve noticed that aside from Rhodes, everyone was
sporting various degrees of surprise on their faces. And Tasha looked uncharacteristically
pleased with it. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“I assure you Mr. Barton; I would never
joke on the matter of our marriage. You have never inquired if Tasha was seeing
anyone, you just made assumptions. Besides, we preferred our privacy.”
“So it was another secret.” At best, he
sounded like it was something he believed to be completely in character with
her and was therefore disappointed that she did not learn from past
Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “Rogers…my marriage
is of absolutely no importance to the events that have transpired in last few
days. So fuck you for trying to use it as some sort of springboard for your
moral crusade. I’m done.” T’Challa wasted no time in following after her.
“Tasha slow down.” It was not that he
could not catch up with her but it was the way she was gripping her left arm
while she was marching away that had him concerned. “I am sorry for blurting it
out like that but I could not watch him step on you any longer.”
“It’s fine, really.” Her breathing
“What injuries did you sustain in the
fight?” His eyes tried to asses her condition but aside from the black eye, she
had no visible injuries.
“None. But uh, my left arm is kind of
numb. Is that normal?”
No, it was not normal at all and the panic
he experienced seconds before the bomb went off returned with full force. “You
need to see a doctor straight away.”
“What? No, I’m good.”
“Please, intanda, do not argue with me.
Not now.” Her acquiescence after his plea was short lived because not ten steps
later; she collapsed and would have kissed the floor face first were it not for
his fast reflexes. With relative ease, he scooped her up and called for help. He
lost his father; he would not lose her too.
@queenyavengers So you wanted a secretly married IronPanther, yes? Here’s a short thing plus angst.