#and by the way... everything that is part of honour mode is also “not found”in my game...which was added in the same patch with the epilogu

[silver-horse]

the current state of the bg3 epilogue (for me) ...

[dalishious]

(I can’t believe I finished this so fast… I basically blacked out and then it was done lol… Anyway, please remember that this is all just my personal opinion, and if you feel differently, that’s fine!)

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Review

Objectively speaking, Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a fun game that the average player is going to enjoy, especially if that average player is coming in without any prior knowledge to the Dragon Age franchise. I believe this is a good jumping-in spot for people who are curious about the world of Thedas. But in contrast, I have seen a lot of criticism from other hard-core fans that I largely agree with. However, it just so happens that most of the criticism I have is not enough to prevent me from overall enjoying the game. That is to say, for pretty much everything I did not like, there was also something I thought was great… Unfortunately, that makes it a little difficult to give a review. So, I’m going to do my best to keep things as clear and concise as possible by splitting up the “good” and the “bad” aspects of DATV.

The Positive

The best thing to come out of DATV is the new cast of characters that make up your companions and supporting associates. While I do think that some of them could have benefitted from more development time to flesh things out further, just judging what we ended up with, is mostly great. I especially found Emmrich and Bellara to be stand-out examples of strong personalities to grasp onto, whose personal stories really touched me in an emotional way.

DATV also has fun with some returning characters. For example, now that Solas is no longer hiding his identity, we get to see a character that both believably honours his part in Inquisition, while also providing a new, refreshing side to him. There are also a number of characters introduced in Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights that appear in the game, like my personal favourites Teia and Viago, who are an absolute delight to interact with!

I think the three act structure is good, albeit with act three being quite short. There are a few sequences that are an absolutely phenomenal mixture of storytelling and engaging gameplay, like all of Weisshaupt! I also really enjoyed stepping out of the main story every once and a while, and into Solas’s backstory through the Crossroads memories – what ended up being extra special about these is how they mirror Rook’s struggle so well, by the end. They are a nice touch.

The locations are beautifully constructed with smooth interactions of climbing, zip-lining, and essentially parkouring your way around, making them fun to explore! They also came with such distinct flavours and character in themselves that influenced a sense of truly experiencing different parts of Thedas, with different cultures.

The mechanic of building up strength with the different factions, and that actually having a huge impact with the ultimate showdown in the end of the game, makes side quests feel far less inconsequential than in Dragon Age: Inquisition by comparison. That, and they number far less.

I like that the story mode actually feels like a story mode; there were only a couple instances where I really had to worry about death, and even then, I was able to just toggle off the death with the customizable gameplay mechanics and continue on.

Finally, it would be remiss not to say that the character creator for DATV is the best BioWare has ever put out. I’d go as far as saying it’s one of the best in any RPG I’ve ever personally experienced. From the flexibility in morphing a character’s head and body between custom shapes, to the little details like sclera colour, vitiligo, and top surgery scars, makes it a shining example of what RPG’s should strive for. (My only critique here is that it would have been nice to have more skin colours.)

The Neutral

I hated the combat for pretty much the entire first act of the game. I found it too hard to keep up with, and too much like Mass Effect bullshit. I can’t say that it’s completely grown on me yet, but I don’t hate it anymore. It’s fine. So, I’m giving this a special little spot before I get into what I didn’t like all the way to the end.

The Negative

As mentioned above, I do think that there is more that could be done with some of the characters to really achieve their full potential. Davrin and Lucanis—while to be clear I still really enjoy as they are—come to mind first, in terms of those who would have benefited from more development time. Most of Davrin’s screen time just revolves around Assan rather than Davrin himself, and Lucanis is so restrained that it takes a while to really crack him open. Both of these characters have intentional personalities that make them harder to get to know, I understand that, but I feel that it would have been all the more rewarding to have more time dedicated to their company after earning their trust and possibly endearment. Instead, it feels like their romance and friendship with Rook are only half-complete, and then rushed to finish.

There are some companion interactions that are just… cringe. There is no other word for it. Now, this is nothing new for BioWare games, but I feel like the “pulling a Bharv” scene for example, was hitting an entirely new low. (If someone misgendered me and then just started doing push-ups instead of just saying “hey sorry about that, I’ll try to do better” I’d be annoyed, not satisfied.) I also felt like most of the temporary rivalries between companions were artificial in nature, rather than organically part of their characters that actually served a purpose. We already knew Emmrich likes books and Harding likes nature; we did not need a whole cutscene with them bickering about camping. (The exception to this is Davrin and Lucanis, who genuinely had room to grow as people out of their multiple confrontations, not just a one-off scene.)

The music in DATV is, for the most part, forgettable and bland. There is one piece that really stands out, and that’s “Where the Dead Must Go”, which is a real banger. I am not a fan of Hans Zimmer’s OST otherwise; I think it is phoned in, just like most of his work. I deeply wish BioWare would have just stuck with Trevor Morris. The best parts musically in this game are just Morris’s work re-used from Dragon Age: Inquisition.

There are certain parts of disjointedness that separates DATV from the past games that are just… bizarre. This is especially the case when it comes to elven lore. For example, Bellara saying she is afraid that elves will be harshly judged for the Evanrus, or Harding saying that elves are “thriving”… as if modern elves are not deeply persecuted across most of Thedas. It made me question more than once if there just was not time in development to do a proper canon-compliancy check with everything, perhaps?

I want finish this part by bringing up again that the biggest flaw in DATV is that it feels very corporate. To repeat what I said in this post: It is as if a computer ran through the game’s script and got rid of anything with “too much” political substance, in an overcorrection to be “safe”. But now that the edges have been so smoothed down to make a block into a ball, it can no longer support anything.

Conclusion

It’s easy to see a lot of creativity went into the creation of this game… but it is also easy to make assumptions on how that creativity was constrained by development hell and corporate oversight. In the end though, Dragon Age: The Veilguard succeeded in being an overall good time, one that I will no doubt be putting just as many countless hours into as the previous installments in the franchise. 7/10.

[nanagoswife]

Noticing You, Noticing Me

Chapter Eight

Summary: More soft moments between reader and Obi-Wan as they enjoy being back together

W/C: 3.5k

Warnings: Not smut, but there is some intimacy? Not really though? Idk😅

- - -

Apparently, everyone knew about Obi-Wan’s arrival except for you. Anakin and Padmé were just the ones who participated.

As you walked through the halls, basically clinging to his arm, he laid his free hand on top of one of yours as he told you.

“I had also been talking with Anakin these last months, albeit, not as often as I was with you.” He paused to smile at you, gently squeezing your hand. “When I found out of my plans to come here, I wanted to find a way to surprise you. Then, Anakin came to mind.”

“Let me guess. You asked Anakin, then Anakin asked Padmé, and then Anakin told you what she had said.”

Obi-Wan smirked. “Sometimes I forget how well you know your brother.”

A small sense of pride filled you with that.

“But yes, that’s what happened. Of course I had first written to your parents about a few things. They were more than happy to hear that I could make my way over after so long. I think it was something about how their daughter was quite taken with me.”

He looked down at you with that cheeky smile once again. You shook your head and giggled as you lightly pushed him, only sending him slightly off balance.

His laugh filled the halls as he regained his steady pace.

“I do believe that she is quite taken with the prince of Coruscant. The princess couldn’t be happier.”

Obi-Wan’s crystal blue eyes stared into yours while he smiled. Slowly, he brought the two of you to a stop in front of one of the windows. The light of the sun reflected perfectly in his eyes.

When he turned to face you, both of your hands ended up in his one. Although you loved the feeling, you took one hand away to bring it to his cheek. A small giggle bubbled its way out of you at the feel of his beard as he leaned into your touch. The well trimmed hairs were scratchy but in the most delightful way.

Your eyes couldn’t leave his even if you wanted to. The sight of him like this held all of your attention as you slowly dragged your hand down to rest on his chest.

The fact that both of you were leaning in went hardly noticed. It felt so natural that you paid no mind to it. It was only as you were that few centimeters away from the other’s lips that you realized, but you didn’t pull away. No, this was something the two of you had come so close to once before, yet it now had a different meaning. This was more deserved than before.

You were so close until footsteps could be heard from the other end of the hall. Obi-Wan huffed out a sigh of annoyance but didn’t make any movement to pull away from your proximity.

“We really need to find a more private place,” he whispered, causing you to chuckle,

“If I remember correctly, not even that worked, Obi.”

All he did was groan and roll his eyes as his shoulders slumped. “You unfortunately make a good point, my dear.”

You chuckled before the person arrived in your area. When you turned to greet them, it was Varlo. Maybe it was your eyes just playing tricks on you, but he seemed absolutely miserable. More than he had been in the last two months, anyways. Apparently not having the popularity that he used to have was weighing on him more than you had thought.

“Good afternoon, Varlo,” Obi-Wan greeted with a bow from just behind you. As he did, you saw that a small piece of his hair fell out of place. He did nothing to put it back, though, as he stood up.

“Prince Kenobi,” he greeted briskly with a stiff bow.

He seemed rigid in his greeting. Had something gone wrong in a dispute? You weren’t super into the politics of your kingdom as he was, so you didn’t know what possibly could make him like this.

Varlo’s jaw seemed tense, like he was clenching it.

“Is everything alright?” you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. You could feel Obi-Wan shift uncomfortably behind you. Whatever was going on with Varlo was unsettling him just like it was for you.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I apologize. Just something occupying my mind. Anyways, I really came here to find you to tell you that our parents are putting together a small feast in honour of your arrival, Prince Kenobi.”

“Please, call me Obi-Wan. And thank you. I’ll be sure to thank them later although it’s highly unnecessary.”

“Oh but it is,” you cut in, flashing him a smile.

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Alright, alright. If you say so.”

“I’ll leave you two be. But, Y/N, I should mention that mom is putting this together. So, be prepared,” Varlo said with a playful smile.

You knew exactly what he meant. Whenever your mother would go into planning mode, she always made it the best. If it weren’t for the fact that Obi-Wan had told them before arriving, you would’ve assumed they only had a day's notice. In that case, it would be more toned down. Knowing that she had known well in advance, well, it would be extravagant.

Both you and Obi-Wan said your goodbyes to your brother before he turned away.

“Well, what shall we do until dinner?” Obi-Wan asked when your brother was far enough down the hall. Before you answered, you brushed those few strands of hair back into place.

“Have you unpacked yet?” You turned to look at him, seeing him shake his head no. “Why don’t we do that, then.”

His smile grew even more before offering you his elbow. “Sounds like a plan.”

-

At first, Obi-Wan felt a slight bit awkward. The last time he had a girl in his room, that wasn’t his mother, was Satine. Nothing had happened between them other than simple conversations.

With you, he was a little nervous. He wanted a life with you. Unlike with Satine, he felt like he could see himself with you for the rest of his life. Every part of him was drawn to you in a way that he had never felt in his life.

As the time went on though with you helping him where you could, it felt just as natural as everything else. Obi-Wan could feel himself relax more and more as the time passed.

By the time he had finished, you were sitting at the foot of the bed. Despite his insistence, you refused to make yourself more comfortable further up the bed. Instead you stayed where you were, intently listening to his ramblings. Some were stories from your time apart, others were just simply him muttering his thoughts.

Nothing changed though. You sat and listened, occasionally chiming in at certain details.

Once Obi-Wan was done, he sat beside you. It didn’t take long to find your hand so that he could intertwine his fingers with yours.

“So,” he started, “did that take all the time we had or is there still time?”

You giggled as you leaned against his shoulder. “I’m sure we have some time. Besides, who says we can’t be fashionably late?”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in curiosity. “Is there something your brilliant mind is working up?”

He watched as your cheeks flushed as you smiled coyly.

“Not really. But I did have an idea for after dinner.”

“And what might that be?”

You looked up at him, your cheeks burning an even darker shade than before. You opened your mouth to talk, but closed it before looking away again. It confused him.

“Darling?”

“Never mind,” you said quietly.

“If you think I would say no to whatever your plan is, I’m sure you’re wrong,” he said encouragingly. His free hand came up and turned your face towards him with his index. “What is it?”

When you stumbled over your words, he let his fingers trail along your jawline before cupping your cheek. It was a gesture to comfort you in your doubt, and it seemed to work. He could feel as the tension in your shoulders eased. Even the grip you had on his hand relaxed.

“I- I was thinking maybe… we could come back here after. Together,” you said. Quickly, you continue before he could react, “Not to do anything like, you know. Just to… sleep. And I was wondering if we could read that poetry book that we never finished that night because it was so beautiful and-”

Obi-Wan gently hushed you with a soft call of your name before you’d go into an endless ramble. “Yes,” he said in a breath. “Yes to all of it. Whatever you wish.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He felt you relax further against him. Almost on instinct, he wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Now, shall we head down to the feast your mother has put together?”

Chuckling, you lightly pushed off of Obi-Wan to sit up. “Are you sure you’re ready? She never goes halfway with these sorts of things.”

“Always.”

-

“Ok, so I may have underestimated what Queen Breha had planned,” Obi-Wan said with a sheepish chuckle.

What your mother had planned had even surprised you. All of the servants had been dressed in their best. The dining table was set to feed three times the amount of your group. The seven of you hardly made a dent in it all.

When it came to decorations, you would’ve thought that you would’ve been serving every king and queen there was. Yes, you were a part of a royal family, but you had never dined in such a fancy setup. You had thought your normal setup was over the top, but you were dead wrong.

Even Obi-Wan had seemed overwhelmed by it all. The enthusiastic call from your brother had distracted both you and Obi-Wan from your surroundings.

Apparently, despite actually arriving in time, the two of you were the last to arrive. Everyone else greeted you enthusiastically when you sat down after Obi-Wan pulled out your chair.

Varlo didn’t though. Like he was earlier, he had seemed preoccupied. That kept up during the whole meal. You didn’t pay much mind to it as your parents, Anakin, and Padmé all started a conversation lasting the whole meal.

Once you were all stuffed to the brim, Varlo had left. He said that he had something to attend to, yet he wouldn’t say what.

For the rest of you, the conversations continued as the servants all cleared the table without incident. Even if there were, it wouldn’t be a huge deal. Most of them you knew quite well, and so did your mother. They were all good people who strove to do their best in their role. You always smiled whenever you heard how happy they really were.

“Even I underestimated what she would do,” you replied, squeezing his hand gently as you walked down the hall to the sitting room that contained the poetry book.

Normally, your arm would be linked with his, but you didn’t feel like being that formal. You guessed he felt that same as he reciprocated the action without any protest. If he had said anything about it, you were sure that it would only be about how his thoughts were going down the same path as yours.

When you had gotten to the room you needed, you told Obi-Wan to wait as you quickly ran in to grab the poetry book. After you did, you resumed your hand holding all the way to your room first to change and grab some things.

You had disappeared behind your changing screen as he observed your room. There wasn’t much in your room. A few books on the shelf beside your desk, the satchel which held all of his letters that sat on the floor still next to your desk, your bed, and your changing screen.

Everything was going well until you were unable to undo the back of your dress. No matter how hard you tried, each attempt was met by failure.

There was no other choice other than to ask Obi-Wan to help.

Stepping out from behind the screen, you saw him looking out of your window. He had one arm across his chest while his other elbow rested against it as he stroked his beard. It looked as if he was lost in thought only to briefly smile to himself.

“Obi,” you called out. You hated to break his train of thought, but the longer this took, the longer it would be until you could get on with the night’s plan.

He turned towards you, looking slightly confused when you were still in the same lavender dress as before.

“I can’t get it undone, and I… I was wondering if you could help,” you said as you looked at the floor. It felt strange asking this of him. At the same time, it thrilled you. Nervousness took over in the end.

Obi-Wan walked over to you, taking your hands in his. He gently squeezed them in a silent question asking you to look at him. “Only if you want me to.”

You nodded. With a comforting smile, he led you back behind your screen. Turning around for him, his hands worked on the ties at your back. Each lace up your back slowly loosened as he made his way up, letting his fingers graze against your back.

As he made his way up, you couldn’t stop the shiver that went through you as his hand ghosted the bare part of your back. When he was done, he placed his hands on your shoulders, finger slightly under the material of the dress.

The sensation was one you had never felt before as his hands began trailing outwards, bringing the fabric with it. A part of you wanted him to continue, but you knew it was better when he had paused his gentle caresses.

“I’m sorry. I- I’ll let you get changed.”

“It’s alright, Obi,” you said as you turned to face him. “And thank you.”

With a shy smile, he went back to the main area of your room. A part of you wished you could’ve continued, but now wasn’t the time for that. Hell, you hadn’t even kissed yet.

Either way, you pushed it aside as you finished getting ready. Your sleep gown was much more comfortable than your dress. You wondered what Obi-Wan would think of the light blue gown that flowed more and was far less constricting.

-

When you walked out after changing, Obi-Wan’s breath hitched for what felt like the hundredth time today. He knew night gowns were nothing special, but you just looked so… beautiful.

The simpleness of it caught his eye immediately. Yes, you looked amazing in all of your day gowns, but this was just a new level he didn’t know was possible.

He must’ve muttered something about it because your cheeks turned flushed as you took on a demure stance.

Finally gaining some sense, he cleared his throat before speaking, “Shall we continue the evening?”

You nodded, walking over to him before taking his hand to make your way to his room. Although it was no secret that the two of you were together, you had to make sure you weren’t seen. People would most likely assume that something other than what you truly were doing would be happening.

The only people that were told were Anakin and Padmé. They had told you that they would make sure that no one saw either of you. Specifically in the morning. The plan was that Anakin would make sure the hall was clear as Padmé would come get you and escort you to your room. Of everyone, they knew that Obi-Wan wouldn’t take advantage of you. Plus, with your friend knowing of the night you and Obi-Wan had first read this book, she was quick to believe your true plans.

Thankfully, the hall was clear all the way to his room.

Obi-Wan had removed his jacket rather quickly, exposing his white tunic that lay underneath. There was a small area where his chest was slightly exposed, revealing hairs there that matched the colour of his beard.

A small part of you wanted to have the kind of courage that he did and unlace the top of his tunic for him, to feel some of the skin on his chest. That courage wasn’t there. Not a single part of you could muster up the ability to ask, but you didn’t need to. Obi-Wan had caught the way you were looking at him.

Taking a few steps to close the distance between you, he took your hands in his.

“It’s alright,” he said, placing one of your hands on his chest near the ties. “You can if you want. You don’t have to.”

His voice was quiet and soothing. That courage you thought you would never have? It was there now, slowly crawling out as he encouraged you.

Along with his comforting words, you moved your fingers to where the lace laid. With a shakiness, you brought your other hand up to help undo the knot. Before you could start untying it, he placed his hand on top of yours, squeezing gently for comfort.

“Relax,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this. Stop whenever you like.”

As he took his hand off of the two of yours, the final bit of courage filled you. Slowly, you untied the lace, loosening it until even more of his chest was exposed.

For a moment, you let your fingers graze over the exposed skin and hair. The golden curls on his chest made you smile as you briefly rubbed his chest.

This time, you gained even more confidence as you then let your hands glide down to his torso. Something in you wanted to see more, to feel more, but you weren’t sure if it was the best decision.

When your hands reached his waist, you stopped. Looking back into his eyes, nothing but warmth and sureness radiated from them.

“Go ahead. Like I said earlier, anything for you.”

You let out a shaky breath, gaining even more reassurance from Obi-Wan as you looked in his eyes. So, you let your hands clench the material of his shirt, pulling it up until he lifted his arms, letting the shirt fall to the ground.

You let your eyes explore the surface of his skin, noting every scar until you reached out to trace them all. He told you how many were from training, others from a battle years ago when a random group who wanted to dethrone his father attacked.

-

He worked hard to keep his breathing controlled as your hands explored the surface of his skin. Despite this, Obi-Wan knew that if you felt over his heart that you would be able to feel it racing.

As you traced over his scars, he couldn’t help but let his eyes fall closed. The thoughts that began to run through his mind were becoming intrusive. He didn’t want to rush into anything with you, though. What he didn’t want to do was scare you off and that meant having to keep this all under control.

Plus, he didn’t want to wreck your reputation. Something like this could ruin you, and that’s not what he wanted. You were doing so much good for your people. If they thought any less of you than they do now, he wouldn’t know how he would live with himself.

Instead, he closed his eyes so that he could quell the feeling of desire he felt for you. It was working too, until you reached his shoulders, trailing towards his collar bone.

Nothing could keep his breathing from picking up. The closer you came to his collarbone, the more he felt his want for you. But he wouldn’t let it happen. Not unless you wanted to, and you already had said that you wanted this to be purely just an innocent night. Just reading and sleeping.

So, he shifted slightly, taking a sharp intake of breath as your hand traced his collarbone.

-

This exploration lasted a few minutes as you looked over his freckles that were scattered across his shoulders. Obi-Wan took a deep breath as you traced his collar bone, shifting slightly.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, pausing your exploration. “Did I go too far?”

“What? No, of course not,” he said quickly to reassure you. “No, it’s just… maybe we should read now.”

Nodding, you went over to the bed. Obi-Wan joined you not long after.

After getting settled under the sheets, the two of you went into a familiar position like the night in front of the fireplace. Only this time, you didn’t stay awake long, falling asleep against Obi-Wan’s bare chest.

Everything, his warmth, the sound of his voice, the comfort of the bed, it all made you drowsy. Obi-Wan noticed and encouraged you, “Go to sleep, my dear. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

- - -

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @mackycat11 @generousrunawaydonut @imabeautifulbutterfly @animalgirl05 @blondekel77 @thereluctantherosrose @cosmicsierra @badbatch-simp24

[missallsundayyy]

Could you write a story where Law takes Robin's first time and she's first all hesitant and shy about it? But he really can't control himself. Just read all your stories in your masterlist and my gosh it's beautiful

I TRIED MY VERY BEST TO WRITE THIS AND THANK YOU FOR READING MY STORIES I APPRECIATE IT ALOT 🥺❤️ PORN WITHOUT PLOT BCOS IM GOING STRAIGHT FOR IT. Thank you for requesting this fic i’ll try to cater to every request because I KNOWWW THE FEELING LIKE I GOT YOU! I even have a perfect picture to match the plot of the story xx

RESEARCH

“You’re a damn tease woman..” he scowled while attacking her neck giving wet open kisses all the way down to her collarbone. “I can’t hold myself back if you’re going to wear provocative outfits” he said, palming her left breast roughly.

“Mhmm la-law...please..” she whispered. He chuckled ceasing his actions, “You know how hard It was to convince your crew to let me borrow their beloved archeologist….to help me decipher my research…” he stopped to look at the now bare and naked beauty below him, her face away from him Her nipples were perky and erected and not to mention the size of her breast...it was enormous almost covered her whole entire face which was now looking at anything but him. She was shy and he most definitely didn’t expect this from the confident and collected Nico Robin. It was a whole nother persona right in front of him and he was enjoying every second of it. The woman below him could easily use her devil fruit powers and snap every bone he has and stop him but no...every touch he placed on her body made her caved into him. Her body sensitivity was heightened for him, his touch, his kisses and his presence. “ fuckk look at you, you’re so beautiful underneath me, bare like this and on my sheets.” he grunt, his boner was evident and growing harder and larger by the second.

“Baka! Don’t say embarrassing things like that” she squeaked out turning to face the pirate captain. He laughed “Your crew gave me only 2 days with you and at this rate i think i’ll use it to fuck you senseless here in my room since you prefer to be in here more. Maybe I'll take you in my operating room tool so that I could always remember you when we’re apart.” he said confidently.

Needless to say the historian’s face was beet in colour, she was embarrassed by his bold words and never did she expected Trafalgar Law to have such a foul mouth.

“La--law-kun, i--” Robin stuttered, finding it hard to put her words together. He has her right where he wants her and she is starting to get hesitant like could she even handle him. Maybe it was a bad idea to tease him too much. He had always known her ways of flirting with him but she guessed when she broke into his room in a white spaghetti strapped top that literally does nothing to hide her enormous breast with a pair of jean shorts to sneak around his room and see his personal collection of books he owned was apparently the last straw for him.

“Look at you, the pirate goddess with 130million berries, a strong willed woman with an extraordinary beam of confidence and elegance...looking so reticent and self conscious right below me.” Law said with a smirk lifting one finger to bring her chin up, facing her to him. “Don’t be shy with me Nico-ya, you’re the only woman that has successfully made me so riveted. Your beauty has captivated me since the day I first saw you and can you imagine how keen I was to know you when I found out how smart, wise and pacific you are.”

Robin was touched by his confession and before she could reply he continued “I like you Nico-ya. I like you so much and I’ll make you feel so good and I will only put you and your pleasure first.” His fingers were already ghosting her entrance that was already slick and wet, she was so horny for him and was solely turned on with just his voice and also mostly with how Law presents himself. He was in short, Robin’s type.

“So wet…..all for me” he slipped one digit in and she threw her head back with a whine.

“M...more please, go faster!” she moaned softly bringing her palms to cover her mouth. He smiled and added three of his fingers in all the way and lunged all digits in a quick and hot pace, he was fingering her and she wasn’t mentally prepared for such swift and agile pace because when she asked him to be fast she didn’t THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FAST. She missed the part where she was a complete total virgin but of course she wasn't entirely innocent either. She was still a woman with sexual needs but sexual intercourse was never relevant to her since she was dead focused with her life goal. She never did thought that pleasure would feel this fucking good or maybe because its him that's bestowing it. Law had awakened her needs and reminded her that aside everything else she needed this and she deserved intimacy and she deserved to be touched and pleasured.

Her vision was clouded with a layer of tears, her mind was hazy and she was on cloud 9 and he was only doing the bare minimum. He brought his hands and gripped her neck, bringing her back to reality.

“Feel good my love? Look at me c'mon..” when she locked eyes with the doctor she felt her insides throb more and not just from the invasion of his fingers. She could feel her juices gushing out and dripping on his hands from the way his knuckles or hand would ever so bump the side of her thighs. “Hhh-hai! Feels so...mhmmmm full” her eyes couldn’t take the intense pleasure anymore she had to break their gaze and her eyes fluttered and closed momentarily and he took the opportunity and dived face first into her wet hole and gave her a viscous long hard lick.

Robin’s eyes flew wide open with her both hands instinctively grabbing his shoulders and hair pulling it roughly.

“Ohhh!” she moaned out and he was eating her out vigorously, she was a lost cause the moment his mouth made contact with her pussy. He made her a moaning hot mess, her fingers raked his scalp, pulling and tugging his hair softly while pressing his face deeper into her cunt, ushering him to go intensely because she feels her high coming...and then…. He heard him groaned out and she moaned loudly. A burst of energy surged throughout her body, it was exhilarating, almost current like, she felt her orgasm ripping through. Was it cum? No...she didn’t think it was so what the hell was that feeling.

“Fuuuckk.” she heard him swore and she felt him stopping his assault on her. Her eyes fluttered open and her vision returned to her slowly and it slowly processed his face that was covered in strings of milky white liquid, he was taken aback by the sudden orgasm and didn’t expect her to even squirt from his tongue and fingers. Shit. Her body sprung up and her panic mode was on, she was beyond embarrassed and mortified she didn’t even know she was capable of squirting and she was now telling him how sorry she was, basically having a word vomit which was very out of character for Robin to be anything but calm and collected. But out of all the apologies and her trying to explain herself, he only caught and focused on one thing she had accidentally let slip out.

“First time..?? You m-mean? You’ve never done this Nico-ya?” Law’s lust was now uncontrollable, knowing that he was going to be Robin’s first and he would have the honour and pleasure of deflowering the beauty and the best part, this was all in his bedroom and he would always have the memory of his first time with her even when they were apart.

Robin shied away from his question and shunned her face away...this only confirmed Law’s question. Such a fierce woman and now was timid and innocent looking, all just for him. His feral and dominant side took over him and he grabbed Robin’s hands and pinned her completely down. Hands on both sides interlocked with each other in a death grip, he was literally panting from lust and he was turned on beyond words not to mention his cock was PAINFULLY hard and if he didn’t bury himself in her he would burst anytime soon.

“You’re so fucking cute.” he groaned at her facial expression. “I’ll make you feel good my love” he ended all talking there and plunged himself all the way in and because of how fucking wet her pussy was from the foreplay before it didn’t hurt her at all, strange because it was anything BUT pain. Robin had read in books how painful it was for women but all she felt was extreme and overwhelming amounts of pleasure. “Oh my god!” she screamed when he sheathed himself roughly into her and went in a god like pace.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck so tight!” he groaned and dipped his head down and took her mouth in his and they kissed, it was sloppy and borderline nasty and the sounds emitting from their kiss alone screamed HORNY. Robin was enjoying every second of this, she had never had sex and her first time was with the man that she was slowly falling for and someone she found so hot and attractive. All hesitance and shyness was thrown out the damn window when he took her roughly like this and she was a moaning mess, and her moans was music to his ears, it was so inviting and sultry he could literally fuck her the whole night. His cock reached all the right places and it was perfect for her pretty cunt, going in and out at a monstrous pace yet managing to stimulate her walls so well and hitting all the right nerves. He could hear the gushing and sloshing sound from their connection and how his precum was mixing with her own juices was now sopping out from her hole, fuck what an erotic sight.

“Ah...ahhhh law..please, oh my g--law ha... it feels so hot---” her hands fought his gripped and flew free and she gripped his shoulder for support and her hips rocked harder and towards his thrusts. Her mouth opened wide, head thrown back in bliss and Law buried his face on the crook of her neck and he fucked her hard for god knows how long because they were both so clouded with lust and both chasing their own high. “I’m goin--fuck...im going to fill you up like this if you keep clenching around my cock like that Nico-ya!”

“In me pp-pplease spill it in me, don’t pull out...ha ha ah ah! I-i’m go..going to cuum!” her legs shook and she vibrated in frenzy when her second high overcame her soul once again. She came with a loud cry and ropes and ropes of milky white cum gushed out from her sloppy hole making spurt sounds in addition to Law’s cock abusing her hole all the sound waves was heightened to him, his view of her large breast bouncing from their rocking, her hands holding and hugging onto him for dear life, her face contort to absolute pleasure, mouth wide open, moaning hotly and panting for air. She was so lewd right now and he knew there was no other woman that could take him like this and there was no woman he would rather pleasure than Nico Robin.

“F..fuck take it take it take it!” he grunted in her chest and came hard, shooting his load into her, painting her walls white and staining her innocence right there and then. “Ahh! I--its too full Law!!” she screamed loudly and both of them were sure that his crew could hear everything they were doing right now but he couldn’t care less. They both continued and rode through their highs and orgasm until they were satiated.

That night, they spent the whole night making love but mostly hard raw fucking, he explored every part of her and touched her in so many aspects and way possible. She lost count of how many times she cummed and how many cosmic orgasms she felt. He pleasured her like no other and he had branded sex with him into her very soul.

The bedsheet was now a MESS, it was stained with cum, sweat and saliva and it was fucking sinful to even get his ship’s cleaner to clean this mess for him. Law had fully exhausted himself and the goddess underneath him was close to passing out from all the fucking they did but he wouldnt let her drift asleep without cleaning her up properly.

“I’ve run a warm bath for us Nico-ya, let me clean you up properly and then i’ll rub you to sleep okay?” Law said lovingly while scooping her up bridal style, he was gentle with her knowing she was going to be sore everywhere, she was extremely brilliant for him and put up with his pleasurable abuse so of course she was receiving royalty like aftercare.

~BONUS~

“Neh Robin! Are you okay? You seem to be limping ever since you came back from your stay” Chopper asked worriedly.

“Fufufu don’t worry, it was just a little accident on the Polar Tang but Law-kun had already taken care of it” Robin assured her nakama. Chopper smiled “Well! If Law said it's fine then you should be okay soon Robin!” With that the little reindeer walked away finding Usopp who was fishing for their dinner.

Nami who was listening to their conversation wasn't buying her story one bit “So you and the captain of the Heart Pirates are boning each other huh Robin?” The orange- haired navigator hugged her best friend from behind, “We let you go for two days and you finally decide to make your move on him” Nami teased.

Robin giggled “I think he suits me well don’t you think so Nami?”

“Well you know what this means...girls night!!” Nami exclaimed, dragging Robin for an afternoon sun tan.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Jim and Jody - Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary; it was one of the biggest decisions of your life, but will you change your mind before your future is sealed?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abortion (everyone is permitted to do what they want with their body, in this imagine the reader wants to keep the baby, but pro choice, as everyone deserves control over their bodies and all 🤍), brief mention of sex and threats

Masterlist Link

To see him so relaxed, so completely and utterly himself was a paradise all on its own. There was a heaviness aboard your shoulders, but as you watched him goof tirelessly about, you had no other concerns, not even as you subconsciously raised your hand over your stomach. You shook your head at the sentiment, the two of you had already made the decision to abort this child, it was unknown how the poor fellow would turn out to be; with the combination of your powers and his super everything, it was sure to be quite the complication, and not one that you supposed was to be an easy course.

A smile pried at your face, simply from viewing him with the pack of children, the wind from the docks swept your hair into your face, and in turn, you swept the locks out and away from your vision, so that you had further access to watch the man that you loved in his absolute element. Through the years, past and recent, he had lost so much, and this child was just to be another mantle on the wall of memorial in his mind, it was sad really. If the two of you were normal, with average and lives that had perceptions with no regards of being heroic, there’d be no query about it, you’d keep the baby.

That life though, to your grave misfortune, did not exist, it was merely a fantasy living painfully inside of your mind, haunting you whenever you closed your eyes, with the flashing images of a resolution and end to the errors in your lifestyle. There’d be a big house, yet nothing to prissy, just enough room for the pair of you and few children of your own, a grand garden with a swing set and sand pit, where the infants could grow up and play in once they were older. Then there’d also be a shed for Bucky to work on small projects, such as attaining some love and care to his motor bike, as well as storing the supplies that he’d need to do so.

All that is a universe away, muffled from possibility by the stars expediting through the gorgeous veil of the galaxy, corrupting the possibilities of ever gaining access to such... peace. That was the one thing that the pair of you wanted, however catching a break was rather rare within your predicament. A stifled laugh reeled from the conjunction of your lips as you simply and endearingly surveyed how the boys, specifically Sam’s nephews hung from the vibranium branch of his arm. It was all your attention was focused on, until an extra person took a seat on the picnic table beside you, his sweet yet musky scent detailing whom it was. “If your not going to eat that, I’m sure Barnes Junior might want an opinion on that.”

The underlining of the words caused an abstract grimace to forlorn your features, as you stared not at the speaker of whom you were close with, but instead the slather of cake that was planted on a paper plate before you, the icing beginning to become slightly sick from the beating of the viable son. “You’re glowing, you know? Motherhood is a good look on you y/n/n, I wouldn’t be so soon to let that go.” Your fingers pried at the dismantled crumbs off your section of desert as you looked to your new captain, a resonating conformation fo bridled suffering and hopelessness clouding your view of his attempt at making you atone before you made a sin that you’d forever regret.

He, like many others, knew that the family life was what you wanted; you wanted to be your child’s hero, tending to their each necessary (and unnecessary) need, them being your main focus and project and life. Instead, you had been handed your options on a short stick, and thus, your decision, albeit somewhat of a sensible one, didn’t make it hurt any less. “Sam.” You spoke his name, observing from the corner of your eye how Bucky paraded around the dock with Jim and Jody. It’d be nice to give him a slice of this kinda life, he was thriving as an adult around children, you could only imagine him in the case of this one being birthed into the world. “It’s not that easy.”

“No one said it was going to be easy.” Sam responded quickly, affirming your fears to your nerve wrecked face. “I get it, I do. People will be after this kid, and that is no way to live, but you two aren’t alone in any of this, nor will you be in that. You have me, along with many other old friends of ours, hell even the Wakandan’s. Do you really want to sacrifice this one life so you can continue living this one? You and Bucky have both lost so much, you don’t have to force yourself to willingly give away something else. The decision can be changed the last minute, it’s a lot to take in, I get that, but I see the way Buck is with my nephews, and how you watch them when you think nobody’s looking over at you. With your state pardon, you two can retire, and go far away, and abandon everything for this one little guy or gal, because I know that if you do, no matter what, they’ll be worth it.”

Bucky wailed a warrior’s shout as Jim and Jody playfully struck him down, his unsheathed metal hand grasping at the cloth that was tightly aboard his addictive chest. He rolled on the ground as the children ran to retrieve their toy lightsabers, leaving him to be expendable against their weapons. There was a giddy and fitting smile smouldering his usual stoic expression. It was no wander why he found calm in visiting Sam and his sister’s small, and accepting family. The kids brought out another side of him, which he had been tortured to refrain from showing, but you had seen, and were contemplating many things within your mind. You were lapping up the image, as though you were dehydrated and the sight of him appeased by the company of young ones was a source of water.

Sam was right, he always was and had been. “The decision was on both of our parts, you don’t think Buck’ll change his mind, or do you?” You were invested in getting a responsive answer, yet the man spluttered a laugh at your confused expense. He heaved for a moment, bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. There was nothing stopping him from gaining it back, unlike Bucky whom had grabbed a saber of his own and lightly began to paddle against the one that was directed against him, other than another round of hysterics that abandoned him. A reasonable smile resonated a comfortable position upon the former falcon’s face, as he tentatively patted your knee, watching as you broke off a small rupture of cake and popped it in your mouth, feeding not only yourself but the inmate within your womb.

“There isn’t really much for me to say, it’s easy, look at him. He will be fine with whatever decision that the pair of you succumb to, after all, it’s your body, but it will pain him like nothing else ever has if you go through with the abortion, and if not, then trust me, we’ve both seen how hard he fights; think of that but ten times the mass in consideration of this baby, because I am certain that he’d do anything for them. He lost his entire family when he awoke from his mode of hydra assassin, this could be him getting it back. Different members, but a family all the same.” He stole a little of your cake, making you lightly elbow him as a smirk rendered a beauty upon his face.

“What’s that going to make you, the patriotic uncle who just can’t keep himself from flashing his shield?” Now it was his turn to retaliate, he lightly scuffed your ankle with a feather light tap of the toe of his shoe, causing you to promiscuously roll your eyes. “I’m joking, that was Steve’s aesthetic, this new version of cap is your baby, I have great faith in you to make this world a better and safer place. The funny thing is, when you finally accepted that shield was yours, that’s when my mind shifted to the possibility of keeping this kid. It was and has always been a sign of hope and protection to Bucky, maybe it could be the same for our little one. It was just a thought, I’m not meaning to put pressure on your or anything bu-“

“I get it, and I’m honoured. And if that is how it seems, then I want you to know that I’ll be there to protect them too. The main bump in the road for now is for you to talk to that grumpy ass boyfriend of yours and figure this sperm plus egg equation out, send Jim and Jody over here, I got somethin’ to show those two anyway.” With a nod and a grateful pat upon your friend’s head, you slowly plodded over to where Bucky was being cornered against the side of the truck by the boys. His blue orbs danced around their small and imaginative beings, until they landed on you, it was as though his pupils were calling out for help, begging for you to spare some mercy upon him.

“Jim, Jody, your uncle Sammy has something for you two to see.” They groaned lightly, having been pulled away from the narrative of their play time, but nevertheless their faces were clean slates as they expressed hyper smiles, and bolted their route towards their mother’s sibling, carrying their lightsaber replicas along with them. “Two kids beat an infamous, deadly badass with a metal arm. I think you might be getting too old for these kinda battles Buck, you were losing, and quite terribly if I say so myself.” Crossing your arms, as he came to an upright stand, hoisting himself off the ground, so that he could be more level with you.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Thought you were supposed to be supportive of me and all that, as you said to Zemo, you’d quite happily cut his dick off if he compared me to the shadow that I used to be.” His brow raised, as he reminisced on the thought of you threatening Zemo; it was hot, and certainly had gotten him going, which had shortly left you in this predicament, trying to save the world and execute the one last thing that exhumed hope to either one of you. The baby. It was almost a certain and solid fact that the little one inside of you had been procreated on the Baron’s private jet, more specifically, the small and clean bathroom that had became dirty with your primal sins.

“And I still regret not doing that, he’d have had much less leverage in any sense of the word of phallic if he had it sectioned off.” Silence emitted between the two of you, although a humoured smirk tantalised upon Bucky’s graceful face. For a change, he was not prompting the expression of a grumpy cat that was refused its nip, no, instead he could be compared to a future - actually, he already was a father to the bean held in the shield of your body, having been an ample ingredient in bringing the small person into being. “So, you having fun with Sarah’s kids, sure looks like you were quite in your element before I cut in.”

“I’m always in my element when you’re around doll.” He smiled, wrapping his uncoordinated hands around the oval of your waist, and tugging you sentimentally closer, your hips bumped with his, as your eyes ogled infatuatedly up at him. “They’re great kids, makes me realise exactly what we’re gonna be missing out on.” Bucky gulped, sparks of emotion taunted the behind of his eyes, like saucers of resentful fire. “You’d be the perfect mother, you know that right? After all you’ve done for me, you’ve nurtured me close to the man that I once was, the only difference is that I want to settle, but I don’t know how to go about dropping everything. This kid is killing me, he’s making me question everything.”

“That’s what kids are supposed to do, unborn, or very much avidly attacking grown men with false lightsabers.” Bucky deeply into your frustrated and corresponding eyes, your hands reaching up to play defiantly with the smooth dip in his chin that could be seen through the shading of his light stubble. “What if we did have a Jim and Jody of our own some day? We could keep him or her, they’d be our greatest concern, we don’t have to go down this painful and longing, rusted road. We could bring something good into this world, protect them against all forces that threaten to disrupt their life, I want this with you Bucky. We could move far far away, or go somewhere close to home.”

“Brooklyn.” He stated, causing a line to crease gently in the plain of his forehead. “I want to call them Brooklyn, if I am to fight the rest of my life for something, I want it to be my home. Last time I had to leave there, but it’s my amends to never leave this child of ours, if we’re going to do this, we need to put them in front of everything, and I mean everything.” He spoke, in reference to the other avengers and other aliases that you had stood by for so long. Bleakly you nodded, grasping his jaw down for an amorous kiss, humming against the palette of his lips, as your hands entwined behind his neck, pulling his face closer to your own, prompting his tongue to travel deeper within the realm of your mouth.

“Brooklyn is a nice name. How about Brooklyn Margaret Barnes? I think that has quite the ring to it.” You offered, and he hardly reacted, instead quickly appraising a pleasant smile onto the canvas of his work of art face, as he ducked his head down, conjoining the pair of you into a passionate and meaningful collide of your lips. Sam smiled as he watched the pair of you, pointing at you two from afar, as his nephews from afar. He was giving them a man to men talk, offering them advice that they would have valuable usage of in the future.

“Now that is love. You don’t give up for the one thing that connects you, and those two, well Bucky and y/n have been through a hell of a lot. They deserve this, and when you meet a woman when you’re older, and your mum is watching on towards the two of you, I want you to make her proud by treating your girl like a princess, willing to sacrifice everything simply to create the future that she wishes for you.” He emotionally wiped his eyes, rushing to stand before he grasped a lightsaber, leaving the other to spare for one of them. “Now Jim and Jody, which one of you will be my padawan?”

[weavingthetapestry]

19th March 1286: “A Strong Wind Will Be Heard in Scotland”

(Image source: Wikimedia Commons)

On 19th March 1286, a body was discovered on a Fife beach, not far from the royal burgh of Kinghorn. The corpse was that of a 44-year-old man, and the cause of death was later diversely reported as either a broken neck or some other severe injury consistent with a fall from a horse at some point during the previous night. It is not known exactly when this body was found, nor do we know who discovered it. But we do know that the dead man was soon identified, with much dismay, as the King of Scots himself, Alexander III.

The late king had no surviving children, only a young widow who was not yet known to be pregnant, and an infant granddaughter in the kingdom of Norway. Despite this, Alexander III’s untimely death did not cause any immediate civil strife, although it did set in motion a chain of events which eventually led to the Scottish Wars of Independence. This conflict would forever alter the relationship between the kingdoms of Scotland and England, as well as the wider course of European history.

Although Alexander III was a moderately successful monarch, he had been unfortunate over the last ten years. His first wife, Margaret of England, had died in 1275 and Alexander initially showed no immediate interest in remarriage. At first the succession seemed secure: Margaret had left behind two sons and a daughter. However the death of the couple’s younger son David c.1281, may have prompted the king’s decision to arrange the marriages of his two surviving children over the next few years. In the summer of 1281, the twenty-year-old Princess Margaret set sail for Bergen, where she was to marry King Eirik II of Norway. Her brother Alexander, the eighteen-year-old heir to the throne, married the Count of Flanders’ daughter in November 1282. Neither marriage lasted long. The queen of Norway died in spring 1283, possibly during childbirth, while her younger brother succumbed to illness in January 1284. Within a few years, a series of unforeseen tragedies had destroyed Alexander III’s family and hopes, and the outlook for the kingdom seemed equally bleak...

All was not lost however. The king was in good health and believed he could count on the support of the realm’s leading men. Steps were swiftly taken to ensure their compliance with his plans for the succession. On 5th February 1284, a few weeks after Prince Alexander’s death, an impressive number of Scottish nobles* set their seals to an agreement at Scone. In the event of the king of Scotland’s death without any surviving legitimate children, they obliged themselves and their heirs to accept as monarch the heir at law. This was currently a baby named Margaret, the only surviving child of Alexander III’s daughter the queen of Norway.

(Drawing based on a seal belonging to Yolande of Dreux, Alexander III’s second queen. She later became Countess of Montfort and, by marriage, Duchess of Brittany. Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Although the bishops of Scotland were to censure anyone who broke this oath, the prospect of the crown being inherited by an infant girl on the other side of the North Sea was obviously not ideal. Her grandfather struck an optimistic note in a letter to his brother-in-law Edward I of England, writing that in spite of his recent “intolerable” trials, “the child of his dearest daughter” still lived and hoping that “much good may yet be in store”. But the king would not leave everything up to chance and in October 1285, at the age of 43, he married the French noblewoman Yolande of Dreux. As the year drew to a close, Alexander might have hoped that his misfortunes were behind him. He still had his kingdom and his health, and now, with a new queen, there was every chance that he could father another son.

In fact, the king had less than six months to live. The exact circumstances of Alexander’s death are shrouded in mystery, although most sources agree on the fundamental details. Only the Chronicle of Lanercost gives a detailed account, although much cannot be corroborated, and its author had a habit of providing moral explanations for historical events. He was convinced that the calamities which befell the Scottish royal house in the 1280s were punishment for Alexander III’s personal sins. The chronicler never explicitly names these sins, but he does hint at a conflict between the king and the monks of Durham (allowing Alexander’s death to be attributed to a vengeful St Cuthbert). The chronicler also included salacious stories of Alexander’s private life, claiming:

“he used never to forbear on account of season or storm, nor for perils of flood or rocky cliffs, but would visit, not too creditably, matrons and nuns, virgins and widows, by day or by night as the fancy seized him, sometimes in disguise, often accompanied by a single follower.”

Although this does seem to back up the king’s habit of making reckless journeys, alone and in bad weather, the chronicle’s biases are nonetheless fairly obvious. On the other hand, the man who probably compiled the chronicle up to the year 1297 does appear to have had many contacts in Scotland. These included the confessors of the late Queen Margaret and her son Prince Alexander, as well as the latter’s tutor, the clergy of Haddington and Berwick, and the earl of Dunbar. It is unclear how he acquired information about Alexander III’s death, but the chronicle’s narrative is at least plausible and correct in its essentials. Although some of the anecdotes are a little too detailed and didactic to be entirely truthful, the narrative provides some interesting insights into contemporary behaviour, such as the way medieval Scots felt entitled to address their kings. In the absence of alternative narratives, and without necessarily subscribing to the chronicler’s moral views, it is therefore perhaps worth following Lanercost to begin with, supplementing this with additional information where possible.

(The northern half of a map of Britain, drawn by the thirteenth century English chronicler Matthew Paris. Matthew Paris was based in the south of England and was not overly familiar with Scottish geography, but his depiction of Scotland as split over two islands and joined only at the bridge of Stirling, is nonetheless enlightening. The map is now in the public domain and has been made available by the British Libary (x))

On the evening of 18th March 1286, Alexander III is reported to have been in good spirits. This was in spite of the weather, which the author of the Chronicle of Lanercost described as being so foul, “that to me and most men, it seemed disagreeable to expose one’s face to the north wind, rain and snow”. The king of Scots was then dining at Edinburgh, attended by many of his nobles, who were preparing a response to the king of England’s ambassadors regarding the aged prisoner Thomas of Galloway. However when the court had finished dinner King Alexander was not at all anxious to retire early. Instead, not in the least deterred by the wind and rain lashing the windows, he announced his intention of spending the night with his new wife. Since Queen Yolande was then staying at Kinghorn in Fife, travelling there from Edinburgh would not only involve riding over twenty miles in the dark, but would also mean crossing the choppy waters of the Firth of Forth. Unsurprisingly, the king’s councillors tried to dissuade him. However Alexander was determined, and eventually he set off with only a few attendants, leaving his courtiers wringing their hands behind him.

The first part of the journey passed without incident and soon the king and his companions arrived at the Queen’s Ferry, by the shores of the Forth. This popular crossing point was named after Alexander’s famous ancestress St Margaret, who had established accommodation and transport for pilgrims there two hundred years earlier. But when the king himself sought passage, the ferryman pointed out that it would be very dangerous to attempt the crossing in such conditions. Alexander, undeterred, asked him if he was scared, to which the ferryman is said to have stoutly replied, “By no means, it would be a great honour to share the fate of your father’s son.” So the king and his attendants boarded the ferry and, notwithstanding the storm, the boat soon reached the shores of Fife in safety. As the king and his squires rode away from the ferry port, intending to complete the last eleven or so miles of their journey that night, they passed through the royal burgh of Inverkeithing. There, despite the evening gloom, the king’s voice was recognised by the manager of his saltpans, who was also one of the baillies of the town.** The burgess called out to the king and reprimanded him for his habit of riding abroad at night, inviting Alexander to stay with him until morning. But, laughing, Alexander dismissed his concerns and, asking only for some local serfs to act as guides, he rode off into the night.

(South Queensferry, as drawn by the eighteenth century artist John Clerk and made available for public use by the National Galleries of Scotland. Obviously the Queen’s Ferry changed a lot between the 1280s and the 1700s, but at least during this period the ferry was still the main mode of transportation across the Forth.)

By now darkness had set in and, despite the local knowledge of their guides, it was not long before every member of the king’s party became completely lost. Although they had become separated, the king’s squires eventually found the road again. However at some point they must have realised that they had a new problem: the king was nowhere to be found.

In the early fifteenth century, local tradition held that Alexander was at least heading in the right direction when he became separated from his companions. Although he too had lost sight of the main road, the king followed the shoreline, his horse carrying him swiftly over the sands towards Kinghorn. It was there, only a couple of miles from his destination, that the king’s luck finally ran out. Since there were no known witnesses to Alexander III’s death, it is unlikely that we will ever know for certain what happened that night. However most sources agree that the king’s horse probably stumbled and threw its rider. Alexander tumbled to the ground and snapped his neck and, at a stroke, the dynasty which had ruled Scotland for over two hundred years came to an end.

It is not known precisely how long the king’s body lay on the beach, alone under the moon while the waves crashed on the shore and confusion reigned among his squires and guides. However his corpse was discovered the next day and was swiftly conveyed to nearby Dunfermline. Ten days later, on 29th March 1286, the kingdom’s ruling elite gathered to see the last King Alexander buried near the high altar of the abbey kirk, in the company of his ancestors. Near the spot where the king’s body was allegedly found, a stone cross was later erected beside the road, which could still be seen by travellers over a hundred years later. The modern belief that Alexander III died when either he or his horse fell from a cliff*** (a tradition which is not supported by any mediaeval sources so far as I am aware) may stem from the position of this old cross, which possibly occupied the same spot as that of the Victorian Alexander III monument. This monument can now be seen at the side of the modern A921 road between Burntisland and Kinghorn, a permanent reminder of the role this seemingly nondescript location once played in the history of Scotland.

(The Alexander III monument near Kinghorn. Source: Wikimedia Commons- the photo was taken by Kim Traynor who has kindly made the image available for reuse under the  Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license).

The impact of Alexander’s death on a small mediaeval kingdom like Scotland, conditioned to look to its monarch for leadership, must have been great. Even the Lanercost chronicler admitted that the general populace was observed “bewailing his sudden death as deeply as the desolation of the realm.” However it is important not to exaggerate the scale of the crisis. Popular views of Alexander III’s death are inescapably informed by the accounts of fourteenth and fifteenth century writers, who depicted it as the root of all of Scotland’s later ills.

Writing in the aftermath of a century dominated by war, plague, famine, and climate change, it is perhaps unsurprising that many late mediaeval chroniclers looked back on Alexander III’s reign as comparatively peaceful. As the author of the fourteenth century “Gesta Annalia II” explained, “How worthy of tears and how hurtful his death was to the kingdom of Scotland is plainly shown forth by the evils of after times.” Meanwhile, in his “Orygynale Cronykil of Scotland” completed c.1420, Andrew Wyntoun portrayed Alexander’s reign as a Golden Age of peace and justice (when, just as importantly, oats only cost fourpence a boll). He incorporated an old song into his chronicle, perhaps written in the years following the king’s accident, which neatly encapsulates later views of the event and its impact:

“Quhen Alysandyr oure Kyng wes dede 

That Scotland led in luẅe and lé, 

Away wes sons off ale and brede, 

Off wyne and wax, off gamyn and glé: 

Oure gold wes changyd in to lede. 

Cryste borne in to Vyrgynyté, 

Succoure Scotland and remede, 

That stad [is in] perplexyté.”

Wyntoun’s younger contemporary Walter Bower, author of the “Scotichronicon”, also lamented Alexander’s premature death and even rolled out a legend about Scotland’s famous seer, Thomas the Rhymer, to reinforce his point. On 18th March 1286, he claimed, the earl of Dunbar “half-jesting” asked the Rhymer for the next day’s weather forecast. True Thomas answered gloomily:

“Alas for tomorrow, a day of calamity and misery! Because before the stroke of twelve a strong wind will be heard in Scotland, the like of which has not been known since long ago. Indeed its blast will dumbfound the nations and render senseless those who hear it, it will humble what is lofty and raze what is unbending to the ground.”

The next morning came and went without any gales, so the earl decided that Thomas had gone mad- until a messenger arrived at precisely midday with news of the king’s death. Although Bower may have been attempting to bolster Thomas of Erceldoune’s reputation as a prophet (in response to English propagandic use of Merlin’s prophecies), the anecdote reveals the significance he attached to Alexander III’s death. Similarly for John Barbour, author of the fourteenth century romance “The Bruce”, there was no doubt that the story of his hero’s story began, “Quhen Alexander the king was deid / That Scotland haid to steyr and leid.” Following this, Barbour skips ahead to the selection of John Balliol as king, dismissing the six years in between as a time when the country lay “desolate”. In this way later chroniclers created the impression of an Alexandrian ‘Golden Age’ and that Scotland almost immediately descended into chaos after his death. Though understandable, these late mediaeval interpretations have traditionally hampered analysis of Alexander’s reign and the events of the decade following his death, despite the best efforts of modern historians.

(The coronation of the young Alexander III at Scone, as depicted in a manuscript version of the fifteenth century “Scotichronicon”, compiled by the Abbot of Incholm, Walter Bower.  Source: Wikimedia Commons)

In reality, while the king’s death was undoubtedly a deep blow, the Scottish political community rallied in the immediate aftermath. In April 1286, parliament assembled at Scone and promised to keep the peace on behalf of the rightful heir to the kingdom. Six ‘Guardians’ were to govern in the meantime- two bishops (William Fraser of St Andrews and Robert Wishart of Glasgow), two earls (Alexander Comyn, earl of Buchan and Duncan, earl of Fife), and two barons (John Comyn of Badenoch and James the Steward). Despite the oaths sworn to Margaret of Norway two years earlier, there may have been some doubt as to who the “rightful heir” actually was. Certain sources claim that Alexander III’s widow Yolande of Dreux was pregnant and the political community waited anxiously for several months before the queen gave birth in November 1286. However no male heir materialised**** and by the end of the year it seems to have been generally acknowledged that the three-year-old Maid of Norway was the rightful “Lady of Scotland”. She was destined never to set foot in Scotland, but, despite her age, gender, and absence from the realm, the country did not descend into complete anarchy in the four years when she was the accepted heir to the throne. Undoubtedly there were people who had reservations about her reign: the Bruces, for example, seem to have attempted a short-lived rebellion, though the situation was soon defused by the Guardians. By 1289 the cracks were perhaps beginning to show, with the death of the earl of Buchan and the murder of the earl of Fife removing two Guardians, who were not replaced. Nonetheless, the authority of the Guardians was recognised in the absence of an adult ruler and they generally attempted to govern competently in the four years between Alexander III’s accident and the Maid of Norway’s own death in 1290.

Having received news of this second tragedy, the Guardians again acted cautiously, deciding that rival claims for the kingship should be judged in an official court chaired by a respected and powerful arbitrator. Thus they appealed to Scotland’s formidable neighbour, Edward I of England. Despite later allegations of foul play, the English king’s eventual judgement in favour of John Balliol does appear to have been consistent with the law of primogeniture and due process. It would take years of steady deterioration before war finally broke out in 1296. By then Alexander III had been dead for a decade, and though the crisis may have indirectly grown out of his demise, it was not necessarily the immediate cause of Scotland’s late mediaeval woes. Nonetheless the events of that dark night in March 1286 would leave their mark on the popular imagination for centuries, shaping Scottish history down to the present day.

(An imprint of the Great Seal used by the Guardians of Scotland following Alexander III’s death. Reproduced in the “History of Scottish seals from the eleventh to the seventeenth century”, by Walter de Gray Birch, now out of copyright and available on internet archive)

Additional Notes:

*The assembled magnates included the earls of Buchan, Dunbar, Strathearn, Atholl, Lennox, Carrick, Mar, Angus, Menteith, Ross, Sutherland, and two other earls whose titles are illegible but who may have been Caithness and Fife.  The barons included Robert de Brus the elder (father of the earl of Carrick and grandfather of the future Robert I), James Stewart, John Balliol (the future king), John Comyn of Badenoch, William de Soules, Enguerrand de Coucy (Alexander III’s maternal cousin), William Murray, Reginald le Cheyne, William de St Clair, Richard Siward, William of Brechin, Nicholas de Hay, Henry de Graham, Ingelram de Balliol, Alan the son of the earl, Reginald Cheyne the younger, (John?) de Lindsay, Simon Fraser, Alexander MacDougall of Argyll, Angus MacDonald, and Alan MacRuairi, among others. 

** The historian G.W.S. Barrow identified this figure as Alexander the saucier the master of the royal sauce kitchen and one of the baillies of Inverkeithing. 

*** There are some variations on this local tradition too- in 1794, the minister who wrote the entry for Kinghorn parish in the Old Statistical Account claimed that the ‘King’s Wood-end’ near the site of the current Alexander III monument was where the king liked to hunt and that he fell from his horse while on a hunting trip. 

****The Guardians and other nobles may have assembled at Clackmannan for the birth. Several modern historians have accepted Walter Bower’s statement that the queen’s baby was stillborn, despite the Chronicle of Lanercost’s somewhat fantastic tale of a fake pregnancy, with Yolande being caught conspiring to smuggle an actor’s son into Stirling Castle.

Selected Bibliography: 

- “The Chronicle of Lanercost”, as translated by Sir Herbert Maxwell 

- “Calendar of Documents Relating to Scotland, Preserved Among the Public Records of England”, Volume 2, ed. Joseph Bain 

- Rymer’s “Foedera…”, Volume 1 part 1 

- “Documents Illustrative of the History of Scotland”, vol 1., ed. Joseph Stevenson 

- “Scottish Annals From English Chroniclers”, ed. A.O. Anderson (especially Annals of Worcester; Thomas Wykes; Chronicles in Annales Monastici) 

- “Early Sources of Scottish History”, ed. A.O. Anderson (esp. Chronicle of Holyrood, various continuations of the Chronicle of the Kings of Scotland; John of Evenden; Nicholas Trivet) 

- “The Flowers of History… as Collected by Mathew of Westminster”, ed. C.D. Yonge - Gesta Annalia II (formerly attributed to John of Fordun) in “John of Fordun’s Chronicle of the Scottish Nation”, ed. W. F. Skene 

- John Barbour’s “The Brus”, ed. A.A.M. Duncan 

- “The Orygynale Cronikil of the Scotland”, vol.2., by Andrew Wyntoun, ed. David Laing 

- “A History Book for Scots: Selections from the Scotichronicon”, ed. D.E.R. Watt 

- “The Authorship of the Lanercost Chronicle”, by A.G. Little in the English Historical Review, vol. 31 no. 122, p. 269-279 

- “The Kingship of the Scots”, A.A.M. Duncan 

- “Robert Bruce and the Community of the Realm of Scotland”, G.W.S. Barrow 

- “The Wars of Scotland, 1230-1371”, Michael Brown

I have extensive notes so if anyone needs a reference for a specific detail please let me know.

[mintyfrosty]

To everyone who reads this,

I quickly want to say thank you for all of the support lately. Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I'm back at school now so I can't draw digitally that much. So it'll just be posting some more rambles and some traditional sketches as of now. But anyway, once again, thank you so much.

Alright. Let's talk about how Reginald became chief.

be sure to read https://mintyfrosty.tumblr.com/post/627309173522251776/rubs-hands-together-alright-lets-head-canon before here ^D^

So, where we left off, Righty (Right Hand Man) had gotten himself "officially" into the toppat clan. And, really awkwardly, since Reginald had no idea where to go from here (since he acted with panic), proceed to take Righty to his room and let him sleep on the couch there. Yes, he has a couch in his room (but it's the one that is used more for presentation than actual sitting), since, one thing I like about the Toppat's is that they will be incredibly fancy and over the top for presentation and not actual functionality. And seeing that he had no choice in the matter, Righty decided to make himself comfortable in the place.

Meanwhile, Reginald was stressing out of his mind, since new Toppats were a darn big deal and bringing a brand new person in without any introduction was very suspicious. Good to mention also that he's still a teenager, which didn't look go for him or his family name. And he most certainly didn't want to risk ruining his family name because he panicked. However, he was to come up with the idea "Hey! You could be my right-hand man!", which didn't go well with Righty. But after hearing the counter-argument that he would be thrown off the ship if he wasn't a toppat, that option didn't seem too bad. But, Righty made sure that Reginald knew that the moment he could leave, he would. Reginald took that fine; it was fair. So, to try and compensate for the bad situation, he gave Righty complete freedom of the ship so it felt like he wasn't trapped.

Something that I won't go into detail about but I found extremely funny is Reginald teaching Righty how to be Toppat. Since, as I've said before, Righty came from quite a poor family and couldn't care less about manners. So, Reginald went through a crash course of how to dress, table manners (like using cutlery), how to respond to the higher-ups, how to speak (Right didn't pay much attention to that one), etc. You get the idea. Insert a musical number of Reginald singing on how to be a Toppat (don't lie, he would).

Around a year later, and Righty got much more comfortable with the place, a Toppat meeting was called involving all toppats and Reginald had to practically drag Righty there. Fancy dinners and meetings were NOT his things. Anyways, the chief tells the toppats about the Romanian Ruby that they wanted to steal it, and the Copperbottom's immediately jumped at the opportunity. Which meant both Reginald, his parents and Righty. The plan was simple; Reginald's parents cause a distraction whilst Reginald and Righty snatch the ruby and make a run for the ship. And one long, tiring heist later involving Reg and Right saving each other back to back, they managed to get the Ruby and made a run for the ship. But Righty didn't run for the ship, hesitated if you will. With the Copperbottoms bolting for the ship and not paying attention to him, Righty could've easily made a run for it away from the Toppats. And so, he made a run for it, filling the declaration that he would leave as soon as he had the chance.

Or that was until Reginald got shot. Not with a bullet; just a stun gun. And suddenly, the choice was in front of him. Abandon the Toppats and leave Reginald to be captured, or run in and save his ass. And of course, after a year of being his right-hand man, Reginald was more than his boss. He was his friend. So, with a final sigh, Righty got Reginald out of harm's way and the heist was a success. After about an hour of recovery, Reginald, saying nothing, led Righty over to an escape pod, saying how he was honoured that Righty risked his life for himself and the clan and was offering a chance to leave with Reginald taking the blame. Most shockingly, however, Righty refuses saying "being your right-hand man is much better than a boring life solo on the street.". And so it was official. Righty became Reginald's, right-hand man.

Years past, with Reginald and Right Hand Man, equipped with their lovely staches, the two of them were making quite the name for themselves in the Toppat Clan, being two of the most successful operators. But then, everything came crashing down. It's been hinted at and implied in the game's canon that Terrence Suave (The Cheif before Reginald) was one of the world chiefs the whole clan had ever seen. And this night was the final nail in the coffin. The previous day, there had been an unsuccessful raid against the government, which resulted in leaked information of the Toppat's flight route (which was the fault of Chief Terrance but left the clan uninformed). And so, under the veil of night, the government launched a raid on the airship. 

Vastly underprepared, the clan went into panic mode, fighting for the clan's safety, many getting killed or captured in the progress. Reginald, being on guard at the vault, was not expecting the sudden flood of soldiers and immediately called for help (again, Reginald was as weak as bones.). He was able to shoot a couple of soldiers down with his gun before eventually being cornered. But of course, Righty came to his rescue and with their strengths combined, they were able to fend off the vault. And then, the clan went quiet. Shaken, the two exit to see what damage had done.

The Toppat had been successful and defeated the government raid, but only at the cost of hundreds of their members. The Toppats that survived had cut the Toppat population in half, much mourning over the loss of their family and friends. Not the least of which being Reginald's parents. Whilst Reginald grieved over the loss of his parents, Righty (of course, after giving him support) looked to the surveillance footage and found that Chief Terrance had leaked the piolet information and left in an escape pot when the raid began. And you wouldn't believe the anger the entire crew felt when that information was revealed. And so, with an iron fist, Reginald made a declaration to when Terrance returned, he would be dethroned as the Toppat leader (similar to the Toppat Civil War intro). When the escape pod returns with the chief inside, the entire clan is immediate start screaming at how unlawful eh was an unloyal he was to the clan. Reginald, sitting in the chief chair with dramatic spin and the cliche "so you've finally arrived" IDK XD

Reginald proceeds to go on a rant, speaking for the people of the Toppat, announcing his dethronement and that he was rejected as leader of the Toppat clan. And of course, the chief didn't take that well. And taking advantage of how physically weak Reginald was, Terrance tackled him to the ground, sending the two flying through the windshield. Reginald, hanging onto the railing of the airship for dear life, met with the chief crunching his finger under his boot only for Righty to shove him off, grabbing the top hat off his head as the previous chief fell to the ground. And after saving Reginald from the same fate and the two walkings back up to the main area, Reginald wore the hat of the previous Toppat chief, claiming his dedication to the Toppat clan and leader with his right-hand man.

Small Bonus:

Shortly after Reginald's crowning, the new chief immediately went into mourning. Something else I want to mention about Righty and Reginald's dynamic is their personality. Righty's a very hard shell and often uses his fists rather than his words, or doesn't speak much at all. Reginald, on the other hand, is an overdramatic drama queen, who would monologue just for the sake of hearing his voice. And so, the best Righty can over is trying his best to be moral support, even though he had no darn idea what he was doing. Mostly hugs.

And that, everyone, is 2nd part of the Reginald and Right Hand Man origin story, headcanon by MintyFrosty.

[anika-ann]

A Matter of Trust

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 5470 (oops)

Summary: You and Steve get to go to a mission together after a while; free drinks, partying, dressing-up nicely, stealing blueprints, the usual. You might even enjoy this as a couple.

Or… not really. Of course something would go awry. What else did you expect when wearing these killer heels anyway?

A/N: Written for or @wkemeup​’s 4k writing challenge; congratulations! Well-deserved, no arguing here; shall the number continue to grow ;) Thank you for letting me participate!

Prompt: “Get in the closet, now!” (bold in the text)

Warnings: suggestive language, mentions of a kink, objectification, gun violence (brief), swearing (always), attempt at humour, fluff…?

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

In your whole history as an operative of S.H.I.E.L.D. slash Avenger, time had never dragged so slowly as it did at this party.

Not even Steve’s presence cheered you up, mostly because he was busying himself with being everyone’s company but yours despite you two coming here together. For a mission. To work, you reminded yourself.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been there for the plan-making which had resulted in mutual agreement of Steve falling into the role of an honourable man whose infamous good nature prevented him from saying no to anyone who asked for a moment with him even if it meant leaving you alone. Which you supposedly mind, because you were here with him only to sneak in here and possibly get your five minutes of glory if he stood by your side long enough

And that was only an act for people who would have noticed you had arrived together.

For the others, you simply attended the party – a known cover-up for a place of business in arms-deal among the powerful men of the underground world – to have fun and seduce some rich businessman.

Sipping from the very same glass of champagne you had helped yourself with about an hour ago, you scanned the room in the search for the big boss. No, not Steve, but the man of the hour, the one whose blueprints you were meant to steal. The blueprints of a potentially large bomb that could kill tens of thousands if it went kaboom and released the nanoparticles of a dangerous virus to the air.

Lovely. Someone clearly had too much time on their hands coming up with crap like that only to make your life miserable.

“What’s a gorgeous lady like yourself doing at this party alone?” a velvety voice interrupted your dark musing and you vainly tried to cover the shudder running down your spine, cursing at the heat curling in your stomach.

Was this how he was talking to all the women who were throwing themselves at him tonight? Probably.

Had you been through that before? Yes.

Had you expected it to happen tonight? Sadly, yeah.

Was it bothering you? Hell the fuck yeah, even if you knew it shouldn’t and that it didn’t mean anything but Steve doing his job right.

You cursed mentally at your weakness and sighed out loud, spinning around to face the man.

“Waiting for a bulky blond supersoldier to come save her, naturally,” you hissed back, hating yourself for letting your jealously get the better of you.

Steve had never ever made you as much as doubt that you were the one for him, but that green bitch of an emotion still intruded on you tonight. You blamed the upcoming visit from aunt flow and the rush of hormones arriving with it and the fact you were itching to leave and go home just for getting rid of those ridiculously high heels alone.

You usually enjoyed wearing high heels, they gave you confidence as gazes of many men and women followed you, but the stilettos you had got chosen tonight could be used as murder weapon.

Ha, maybe you could try and sell them here, you’d make a fortune!

A frown appeared on Steve’s face, one of curiosity, regret and surprise when he registered your irritated tone.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded quietly, whispering to your ear intimately, only making the situation worse.

“You shouldn’t be talking to me, Captain Rogers. You’ll blow it.”

His eyebrow jumped ridiculously high and you realized what you said; you groaned both at his cheekiness and your stupidity.

“Blow our cover. Get your mind out of the gutter…” you muttered, putting some distance between the two of you for the sake of the cover.

“Maybe I’m feeling a bit reckless tonight,” he hummed back, his large palm resting on your lower back and you had to take a moment to swallow the blissful groan at his gesture. You loved his hands and the heels were not only killing your feet, but also you back, and the warmth radiating from his skin felt like heaven. “But seriously, are you okay?”

“You could have asked through the comm.”

“I wanted to check up on you personally.  So?” he insisted and you couldn’t but sigh again, finishing your glass of champagne when you spotted Wagner, aka your target. You stepped away from Steve.

“Just tired. Want this to be over with. Go mingle, Steven.”

Pausing when you took a note of the harshness in your tone, you found his concerned gaze over your shoulder, whispering as softly as you could: “Thank you for your concern… Captain.”

You caught a glimpse of his discreet lopsided smile before turning away fully.

As you walked into the crowd, your long crimson dress curled around your feet with every step due to the provocative – read practical – slit ending mid-thigh. You hoped that the memory of watching you go would occupy his brain for some time while he talked to the flocks of both male and female admirers.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

Two hours. It took you another two hours to ensure you’d be safe sneaking into the Wagner’s office slash bedroom.

Of course his bureau would be his bedroom; men like him knew nothing about good old sleep hygiene, because the thought of their money distracted them from the evil they were doing to the world and had them sleeping like babies.

Using the key-card you had snatched about three minutes ago, you easily entered the over-decorated room.

Looks like someone’s compensating for something, you noted mentally, not losing any time and activating the no-prints mode on your gloves; one of the perks of working with Tony Stark. You were wearing the nanotech the whole evening and no one had a clue, because the particles were imitating your skin. You’d leave a print on the glass of champagne if you wanted; if you planned on rummaging someone else’s office, leaving a trace was a different case and you wouldn’t take any risks.

Systematically starting on the right from the door and working your way through everything that looked even remotely like a possible hideout, you didn’t forget to gingerly place your palm over the wall-length closet so Friday could run scans.

God, you loved that Tony Stark was on the side of the angels despite not quite being one himself; according to him at least.

“No signs of anything else than overpriced shirts, tuxedos and sets for dom-sub play,” the AI announced, barely audible, and you cringed. Not what you needed to know. “Cuffs are men’s size. Dominatrix set for a wom-“

“Enough, enough! Gee, Friday…” you muttered under your breath, not liking the visual of Wagner in the middle of enjoying-

Gross.

“No need for that much detail…”

Shaking your head, you moved onto the desk; an obvious, perhaps too obvious choice, which was why you wouldn’t place your bet on it. But hey, you could never be sure enough until you checked.

The sudden noise on your right had you drawing your gun at instant, your pulse skyrocketing.

The first thing you saw was a large frame of the newcomer and neatly combed blond hair. Your shoulders slumped.

Steve raised his hands as he moved from the doorway to stand inside, his face visibly relaxing at the sight of you searching another man’s desk.

The door clicked shut behind him and you forced yourself to breathe in, shoving your gun back to the holster placed on your covered thigh.

“Jesus, Steve!” you whisper-yelled exasperatedly and resumed your inspection, paying him no mind anymore. You had more important things to do at the moment; not that you wouldn’t do him; Steve in a tux was sight to behold, like hold onto THAT, literally get your hands on it, but you were here for a job.

“You weren’t responding!” Steve replied in the same manner, causing you to freeze.

He had been trying to contact you? And you couldn’t hear him? But-

“Oh,” you let out intelligently, doing the math easily. “He must have some sort of a jammer in here, makes sense.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I’m fine,” you stated, shutting one drawer, opening another. “How did you even ge– never mind. You should go-“

“Don’t wanna cloooose my eyeees!”

The distant howl-like shout from the hall turned your blood into ice, your eyes widening.

You had studied Wagner the whole evening; you’d recognize his voice anywhere, even when he was singing ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ out of tune.

“-before THAT happens! Shit!”

As you pulled out your phone, the live-feed from the camera in the hall offered you a marvellous view.

Two gorilla-men were dragging Wagner towards his room as his feet barely kept him standing. Gorilla number three was walking behind them just in case that their boss’ face decided to meet the floor despite the support offered to him.

Shit, shit, SHIT-

Closing the drawer you were currently scouring, lips pressed into a tight line, you eyed Steve; he was already bracing himself for the fight, caught in the middle of the process of discarding the jacket to have wider range of movements.

You whined internally – firstly, what a sight, it would always make you weak in knees no matter what. Secondly, if this was to end in a fight, the chances were that you’d make it out without the plans and you had spent the night in those killer heels for nothing.

Oh no, you don’t-

“Cause I’d miss ya’ BABY—I don’t wanna miss a THIIIIING!”

Scanning the room once more, your mind running hundred miles a minute, your gaze fell on the huge-ass closet of which contents you had learned more than you’d like to.

Your lips parted in surprise at the plan forming in your own head.

This is a terrible idea.

It’s yours!

Exactly.

Yeah, okay, fair enough-

NO TIME TO COME UP WITH A BETTER ONE-

Steve was kind enough to follow when you grabbed his arm and pulled him from his spot in the middle of the room, though he did shoot you an utterly confused look.

You met his eyes and gulped when the singing approached the room way too quickly to your liking.

“STILL MISS YA’ BABY–“

“I need you to trust me now,” you pleaded in hushed tone, seeing Steve’s pupils go wide, covering the somewhat always warm blue of his irises.

“With what?”

Well, he asked for it.

“Get in the closet, now!”

A second of shocked silence followed your request before his brain made the connection and a scowl twisted his handsome face.

“What? No! I’m not leaving you alone to face them!” he raised his voice minutely and you covered his mouth to remind him that there were ears present, inching closer with each second passing.

“DON’T WANNA FAAAAALL ASLEEEEEEP-!”

“That’s exactly what you’ll do! That’s easier to play off.”

Steve very much not agreed if his eyes flashing with anger were anything to go by. His hand pushed yours away as he towered over you.

“I’m not leaving-“

“Look at the gorillas, Steve!” you shoved the phone to his face, unlocking the closet and throwing its door open. “One word from them to the rest of security and we’re screwed. Get in!”  

Something between a whine, a groan and a growl – neither of those sounds sexy given the circumstances – escaped his lips and you assumed he had to admit to himself that you were right.

Taking a mental note of his resistance diminishing, you easily pushed him towards the limited dark space.

“CAUSE EEEEEVEN WHEN I DREAM OF YOOOOOOOU- THE SWEETEST DREAM WILL NEEEVER DOOOOOO-“

“We can still play it off toge-“ he tried to protest one more time but you pushed against his chest adamantly.

“And say what? This isn’t what it looks like? We just happened to choose your office to get freaky? I’ll handle it. Trust me.”

Steve gave you his unfairly disarming pleading look, his puppy eyesTM, but backed into the closet without another word, clutching his previously stripped jacket to his chest, because he did trust you.

Fingers on the handle, you hesitated when you realized what could ruin the charade you came up with and planned on pulling off.

Swallowing hard at the terrible idea, you gave Steve a tiny encouraging smile as you drew your gun and three knives from your leg holster/sheath and pressed it to his hands.

“Hold these for me.”

Swiftly closing the door, the last thing you saw was the horror on his face.

As the door swung open and you spun on your heels, he had no chance to react.

The loud song which had been reaching your ears for seemingly endless time died on Wagner’s lips and the third extra gorilla of a man behind him instantly pulled out his gun.

And aimed it right at your face. While you had nothing to defend yourself but your bare hands.

Yay.

“Who are you?!” he thundered and like a charm, Wagner stood straight so the other two guards could have you at gunpoint as well.

Yet, what sent an unpleasant shiver through you was Wagner’s sleazy eyes travelling from your killer heels to your ankles, up to your partly exposed thigh, your waist and finally settling on your cleavage, not bothering to make it higher to look into your eyes.

So. He’s a pig. Shocker.

For once, you were grateful. Not that he was supposed to know that.

A sweet innocent smile spread on your lips as you eyed the weapons with what seemed to be almost a satisfaction, you hoped.

“A government agent, of course,” you said, voice pitched just a bit higher than usual. You felt a bit sorry for Steve at the moment; you were well-aware of nearly giving him a heart attack by saying that. “I work with Captain America.” Scratch the ‘nearly’. Poor Steve’s heart. “I was given the task to scour this place… very… thoroughly.”

Your tone husky now, your teeth bit down on your lower lip, your eyes watching Wagner with faked interest. He hypnotized your red lips before shaking his head as if snapping from a haze.

“They told me you’ve been a bad, bad man. I kept my eye on you all evening,” you admitted, not even having to lie.

The following smile you sent his direction was perhaps too predatory, but that could work. For him anyway.

“Who do you work for?!”

The guards were not as easily fooled as their drunk boss apparently; then again, you hadn’t expected them to.  

“Oh. A.R.M.O.R. America-Related Manpower Operatives and Reinforcements.” God bless their hearts if they were going to buy that, seeing you were obviously trying to imitate the SHIEILD acronym. Very poorly. Playing it up, you let a giggle escape you before your expression turned serious, guilty even. “Oh. Probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s only my first time, you see. I finished my training few days ago.”

“Mm… look at ‘dat…” Wagner drawled and nope, it had nothing on the way Steve spoke when his accent peeked through while he was drunk on Asgardian liquor or lust alone.

Not relevant.

Wagner waved off his guard dogs, gesturing to one of them to approach you. “Why don’t we search you first?”

“Make it quick. I have…” you let your eyes trail over Wagner’s body, licking your lips when visibly lingering on his crotch, “more important tasks at hand. I came here for a mission. I’d like it to… finish.”

Two men instantly went to inspect you, patting you from the back, from the front, up and down, way longer and more thoroughly than necessary.

And they found what they were looking for.

One large palm harshly slipped between your thighs and you closed your eyes, willing yourself not to throw up at the pawing.

Gorilla One’s head snapping up to you, he pulled out the only weapon left on you, handing it to his boss and Gorilla Two grabbed your wrists and locked it behind your back, causing you to nearly hiss in pain.

“Oops,” you shrugged instead, burning gaze locked onto the man who was holding both your weapon and your life in his hands.

Your heart was beating frantically in anticipation, your confidence wavering as Wagner inspected the knife.

A slow smile spread on his face, his left eyebrow rising and then he finally, finally burst out laughing.

A confused ‘what’ sounded from behind you as the man’s utterly smashed boss howled in hysterical laughter.

“This—this is GOL-DEN!” he choked out, tossing the item to the very man who had handed it to him.

“It’s a stage-prop,” Gorilla One sighed.

And that it was. Thank you, Natasha Romanoff.

“Oh. So it’s fake.”

“Told you I have more important things at hand… so if—my hands could find some release please…” you asked sweetly over your shoulder. The very next second, you remembered just what was in the closet; and you weren’t thinking Steve. So you switched tactics. “That’s an order, actually. Let. Me. Go.”

“What the agent said, Greg,” Wagner beckoned, still chuckling, a new twinkle appearing in his eye, his face free of mistrust. Gorilla Two, Greg apparently, released your hands with reluctance. You didn’t bother thanking him. “And let her work. Off you go.”

When the gorillas wavered for few moments, you felt your impatience grow along with the pain shooting up your calves. Damn heels.

“Have you not heard your superior? Do I need to teach you some discipline?”

Wagner licked his lips, taking two wobbly steps towards you. It seemed to seal the deal for the guards, because they left the room.

“Someone went out of their way to get you… Must be my birthday then,” he grinned sleazily, his fingers twitching as if he craved to touch you, his hands stopping few inches from your hip. “I’m all  yours, agent. Why don’t you go on with the… thorough inspection?”

Straightening your posture, chin stuck up, you nodded curtly.

“Of course. Sir, I’ll have to ask you to raise your hands to your head. Don’t move otherwise. I’m gonna feel for weapons now.”

“Yes, madam,” he responded breathlessly, but the second you started the process, his hand landed on your hip.

You stopped in your search, locking serious gaze with him. His pupils were blown, eyes dark with lust. His fingers squeezed, his gaze flickering to your mouth as you stood nearly chest to chest.

“Sir, this is highly inappropriate. I’m gonna have to ask you-“

His palm slid to your bottom, fingers digging into the flesh.

You narrowed your eyes, not even having to pretend you didn’t like that. You slapped his hand away, earning a sly grin. He didn’t try again immediately, which you were endlessly grateful for. Instead, he obediently raised his arms so he looked ready to be either searched or crucified.

Oh, you’d gladly.

“Sorry, Agent, I couldn’t help myself. What is such… pretty face like yourself doing in business like this?” he questioned in a husky voice and at that moment, you knew that your time spent around Tony Stark had taken its toll on you, because you simply couldn’t resist that pass.

“Stealing intel from pricks like you,” you mumbled under your breath, giving him just enough time to realize something was wrong.

A fraction of second later, the edge of your hand hit his throat, bruising his larynx and causing him to release a shocked huff of air. Kicking his knee next, your elbow met his face. A choked groan escaped his lips and you prayed to god he didn’t truly find his voice to call the guards.

You elbowed him in his right temple for a good measure, incapacitating his other knee so he nearly sunk to the floor. You slipped around him in one swift movement; your arm sneaked around his throat and cut out his airways.

Too stunned, he barely fought you and you felt all tension leave his muscles in no time.

Wagner’s body hit the ground as he slipped through your hands despite your best efforts. You winced at the thud shaking the floor; you quickly giggled loudly, playing it off as a drunken fun-time shenanigans. Just in case the guards were still at the door.

Satisfied and relieved when no one burst in with guns blazing, you walked to the closet, losing those damned stilettos on the way.

As soon as you unlocked the closet, Steve nearly hit you with the door when abruptly leaving the limited space. His eyes scanned you head to toe to find any sign of an injury, the flames in his glare fading only a bit when he found none.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” he whisper-yelled and despite the circumstances, you couldn’t but giggle, this time from honest amusement as he proved your earlier thoughts right.

There we go…

“Worked, didn’t it? Now help me since you’re here, he’s fucking heavy…”

Steve gave you an incredulous look, one promising a storm coming once you had the time for it, but he went to pick Wagner’s body up without protest.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

Steve was kind enough to have you use the bathroom first, so by the time he emerged – around half past three a.m. – you were already tucked in bed, waiting for him. His feet shuffled against the floor and he seemed utterly spent, as if he had been fighting an army from space.

You had both left the party unharmed; then again, you could imagine that socializing the way he had had to could be as tiring as an alien invasion itself. Also, he had been the one leave Wagner office-bedroom through the window, while you simply walked out of the room, winking at the guards who had indeed stayed by the door.

Steve slipped under the covers and turned off the bedside lamp, the warm light replaced by inviting darkness. Your eyelids felt heavy after the long night and you couldn’t wait to enter the blissful land of sleep.

Having Steve’s arms around you, a pleasant habit of his, you knew you’d be out in no time, but you made the effort to shift further into his embrace, sighing in content and murmuring ‘goodnight’.  

Already halfway out as soon as you closed your eyes, you still registered his arm winding tighter around your waist, his nose pressed to your nape. A deep inhale, then another, warm breath and his lips inching closer with each second.

Pulled out of your slumber, limbs already heavy and yet floaty, half-hearted question left your lips.

“You ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, his foot wedging between yours to pull you impossibly closer, his exhale long and wavering.

The tremble in it alarmed you, urging you to check up on his expression, on him. Willing your body to move, your heart skipped a startled beat when he wouldn’t let you turn around.

“That didn’t sound-“

His fingers wormed its way under your side laid on the mattress, flexing on the flesh of your waist.

“I’m fine….” Bullshit. “It’s just… you have no idea how hard it was to stay put while listening to all that, do you?”

Eyelashes fluttering in surprise, you took in his words, the subtle taste of fear in them, concern for how your abrupt plan could have easily go awry.

You allowed yourself a few moments before responding, forcing your memories, the images of you helplessly lying pinned to the ground after you saw a building explode – a building with Steve still in it – out of your mind.

“I… I think I can imagine. I’m sorry. I came up with an idea and thought it was for the best,” you whispered.

Honestly, you were still convinced that it had been the best thing to do given the circumstances, but that was momentarily beside the point.

“You literally told him you worked with me. I swear to God- I–“

Hearing the shift in his voice, a different emotion interfering – the pure horror, laced with exasperation – you softened your next words even further, running your fingertips over the back of his hand coaxingly.

Without any real hope, you attempted to turn in his firm embrace; this time, he reluctantly let you, your palms instantly trapping his miserable face.

“Hey. Hey, Steve, it’s fine. We handled it. We’re good. I just remembered Friday told me that he was a kinky bastard-“ Steve nudged you at the word and you fought hard the eye-roll he had coming at that “-and decided to use it.”

“You gave me your weapons and went against him empty-handed– never ever do that again,” he demanded, voice equally pleading and firm. You couldn’t help but nudge him back, because in your line of work, promising that technically equalled lying. “If there is any other option.”

You sighed, understanding all too well how he was feeling, willing to promise the latter to ease his mind. And to erase the worried wrinkles on his forehead. You kissed him there, the tension resolving under your loving gesture.

“Noted. I didn’t do that to get off, to have a high.“ Unlike some people, who seemed to do that sometimes. "I promise.”

“I know you didn’t,” Steve said, having the decency to add an edge of guilt to his voice, your verbal call for hypocrisy not going unnoticed. He kissed your left collarbone, tender and greedy, his lips sliding an inch lower to faintly feel your heartbeat and lingering.

“You know me well,“ you stated, running your fingers through his still damp locks, musing. "It’s… nice. Not as scary as I expected once.”

“Thanks…?” he murmured against your skin unsurely and you chuckled, a tired but oh so content sound.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, heavy-lidded eyes boring into yours, finding your lips with his to deliver a lazy but heartfelt kiss, one you felt reaching your very soul.

Shifting so your head was tucked under his chin, you nestled into the most comfortable position possible and Steve hummed into your hair, once more pulling your body against his, not an inch of space left between you. You melted into his warmth and finally, you felt his muscles fully relax as well.

As you once more walked the fine line of dozing off, a sudden thought caused you to snap your eyes open, your heart skipping a curious beat.

“Steve?” An absent hum was his only response, but encouraged by any reaction at all, you continued, knowing that you wouldn’t fall asleep without having the answer. “When you said it was hard… you weren’t referring to a… certain situation of yours, right? … or were you?”

Even with his body turning rigid, a rock-solid prove he was fully awake, he put effort into sounding sleepy.

“Just go to sleep, woman.”

“…were you?! Do you want me to… do some thorough inspection of y-“ you teased, fascinated, never finishing your thought as Steve’s large palm covered your mouth.

You resisted the urge to release the surprised laugh bubbling in your chest. It wasn’t that you thought Steve’s desire was ridiculous; you were just that amazed that it never came up; a true wonder given your line of work.

Momentarily incapacitated, you didn’t speak, but grazed your teeth over his palm so he would release you.

“Hush!”

“ ’khay-“ You muttered and he removed his palm, sleepy blue watching you in warning. You strained your neck to kiss the previously teased skin of his hand. “We’ll explore that another time. I’m beat. Still love you. Goodnight.”

With that, you curled back into his body, feeling the wide expand of his chest followed by an exasperated puff.

“Goodnight, you maniac. I love you too.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

Pins and needles in your toes ripped you harshly from the dreamland and you groaned quietly, rescuing your foot from the vice created by Steve’s own.

Shared sleep was blissful, releasing endorphins, the feelings of comfort and safety it provided irreplaceable and all that, but having your limb pinned to the mattress by a supersoldier was no joke.

You checked the clock on the nightstand; 8:27 AM. Sparing a glance at the man sleeping beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist, palm sprawled over our abdomen, you smiled despite the early hour.

Any other morning, you would have shaken off the cramp and scooted over to get even closer to Steve; however, determined to do something nice for him and make sure he was alright with what he had clearly considered an irresponsible stunt of yours yesterday, you thanked heavens for the unexpected get-up call and planned on wiggling out of Steve’s grasp.

“Where ya’ goin’?” he mumbled sleepily, the inches you had managed to put between your bodies erased as his arm pulled you back, his nose nuzzling your hair with a sigh.

“Bathroom,” you lied easily, lightly patting his forearm. “We’ve barely slept for five hours. You still have thirty minutes till your usual start of the post-mission day, you crazy-ass lark. I’ll be right back.”

“Mm-hmm… I’ll be waitin’.”

Chuckling silently, you freed yourself fully, this time without his protests.

“I’m sure you will, Steve,” you whispered, your smile widening when only ten seconds later, your words were followed by his quiet snort.

Grabbing one of Steve’s hoodies thrown over the backrest of a chair and sliding into it, you made your way to the communal kitchen instead. Your mission was to make Steve breakfast, secretly hoping you could talk him into skipping the usual run today and actually spending a day in bed. You thwarted big bad’s plans yesterday, for god’s sake, you both deserved a break…

As a reminder of the past events, a bruise the size of a boot on your thigh – which you didn’t remember getting – stared accusingly at you when you passed a mirror. You inconspicuously pulled the hem of Steve’s hoodie an inch lower in attempt to cover it. Vainly.

Rolling your eyes, you wondered just how nice you needed to be today; Steve had seemed more freaked out than anything else; nevertheless, the anger could come today and you rather if it didn’t.

Deciding pancakes, eggs and bacon were a safe bet, you hummed and opened the fridge.

It was the exact moment something caught you eye, a change in decorum; right above your head on the top of the fridge.

A big fat zero stared at you from the sign you had got Steve a while ago, a memorandum of your first first-hand experience of his utter recklessness on missions. Ever since then, you and the rest of the team made sure to have the board up-to-date, sometimes proudly and sometimes regretfully rewriting the number of ‘days without Steve doing stupid life-threatening shit’.

Now there was a zero. Your jaw went slack, your heartbeat skyrocketing.

It was not the only change on the sign.

Someone, and you had a very good idea who that might be (hint: he was sleeping in your bed), plastered your name over Steve’s.

Your smile froze on your lips and at that moment, you could have been knocked out with a feather.

Unbelievable.

Un-fucking-believable.

Shutting the fridge with a loud thud, bottles in its door clinking, you strode back to your shared room, sputtering curses.

The audacity of him!

When had he even- how had he done– all night— you had woken up before him-!

Forget pancakes, eggs and bacon; snark was on the menu today.

“STEVEEEEEN!”

You heard his laughter before you even reached the bedroom.

Looking at the bright sight of things, Steve being a little shit was a positive shift from his late-night anxiety. A brief smile crossed over your face before you stormed into the room, finding the blond culprit muffling his chuckles in a pillow.

Your pillow.

Jumping to the bed, you grabbed his own and opted to show him just how stupid you could get.

Because trying to take down a supersoldier in a pillow fight? The zero might have to stay on the board for one extra day.

As Steve’s carefree laughter echoed within the walls of your bedroom, filling you with pure joy, you decided you could live with that.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━  ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

If you’d like to know the origin of the board, I kindly point you towards my S.R. masterlist, specifically to Challenge Accepted…? Fair warning: it has more drama than this one.

Thank you for reading! ❤️

[talatomaz]

present tense | dinah drake x fem!reader

a/n: this takes place during 8x04 where ta & fta meet. this is shit, i know but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head. i practically used the same intro from my other fic for this one, don’t @ me but i just had no other way to start it. this also has references to dinahsiren in honour of dinahsiren week

warnings: mentions of blood

word count: 3.6k

masterlist | request list | request rules

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Can we stop with the sob fest and get back to what we came here to do?”

You joked, interrupting Mia and Zoe as they reconciled over the argument they had earlier.

Just before Zoe could respond with a witty remark, the three of you became distracted when JJ arrived and proceeded to stab Mia in the neck.

Then, before you could even make a sound, he drove a sword through Zoe’s back. You screamed your canary cry, making him stumble back before you ran towards Zoe who had now crumbled to the ground, blood seeping from her body.

Holding back your tears, you gathered her into your arms and put pressure on the wound.

You barely took any notice as Connor went hand-to-hand with his brother, instead, you and Mia were holding Zoe.

As the three of you were huddled together, you felt a flash of bright lights surround you and with a blink of an eye, you were back in the bunker. Except this time, it looked...cleaner and technologically old.

You found yourself standing beside Mia, William and Connor; with you and Mia coated in Zoe’s blood and Mia’s neck still bleeding.

“Dad?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Mia then looked ahead where four adults stood in front of you. Your eyes widened as you recognised who they were. Oliver Queen, John Diggle, Rene Ramirez and...Dinah Drake, your mother.

All of you stood there, as if your shock had frozen you all in place. Time seem to begin again when William walked up to Oliver and hugged him in a tight embrace.

“Dad?”

“T-Those are my kids.” Oliver asked, tears falling down his face as he looked between William and Mia.

Then you watched Connor’s interaction with John and then everyone looked over at you.

“Hi...Mum.”

Everyone stared at Dinah as her mouth dropped.

“M-Mum? I-I don’t. I’ve not got a daughter.”

“Because you haven’t yet.” William stated and you glanced back at him in question.

“I think we’re in the past.”

Mia and Connor had a look of disbelief on their face whilst you agreed with William. You were one of the few people in the future to have ever experienced time travel; your Aunt Sara having taken you on a few missions on the waverider.

“He’s right. This place is new and our parents. Look at them. No gray hair, no wrinkles. What year is this?”

You asked, looking back at the group of parents.

“2019. What year is it supposed to be?”

Oliver asked when you and the rest of your friends let out a gasp.

“2040.” You answered.

“Okay, guys, we need to talk.” Oliver said, going into leader mode as he walked to a corner of the bunker, the rest of the parents following.

You and FTA followed suit and found an empty corner beside some weapons.

“How the Hell did this happen and why do you seem so okay with this?” Mia asked.

You were currently stitching her wound, as the bleeding had steadied, when you pulled on the last thread harshly as you answered.

“Because I’ve time travelled before. My Aunt Sara let me go on some missions with her when I was growing up. I got to see different time periods and she got to teach me how to fight. Win-Win situation.” You answered coldly.

Now that everything had relatively calmed down, you allowed yourself to run over the events that had just passed and suffice it to say, you were pissed at Mia because Zoe wouldn’t have been there in the first place had it not been for Mia’s stubbornness.

“Y/N-“

“I don’t want to hear it, Mia.” You replied coldly, closing the first aid box.

Connor then interrupted and explained how he was unsuccessful in killing JJ due to the fact that you guys had ended up here the moment he was about to kill him.

Mia then began to allude to killing a young JJ to prevent his reign of terror in the future before you, Connor and William disregarded her plan.

“We can’t tell our parents about the future or what just happened.” Mia stated, tenderly touching the bandage that now covered her wound. “Thank you, y/n.”

You merely nodded your head and listened as William began to argue.

“As much as I hate to say it, I agree with Mia. How are we meant to tell Rene his daughter is dead and John’s son is the one who did it? We can’t, William. It will have repercussions that we cannot control.”

You all then looked over as Oliver cleared his throat to get your attention. He, your Mum, John and Rene were stood in the centre of the bunker, quietly watching how the four of you were arguing.

“How about we all get some rest? We’ve all had quite a big shock tonight.” Dinah said to everytime, but maintained eye contact with you.

Since having revealed that you were her daughter from the future, she, understandably so, hadn’t said a word to you. But it still hurt.

“We have nowhere to stay. If you want, we could stay here?” You asked before your Mum interrupted you.

“No, that’s silly. You can come stay with me.”

***

“Home sweet home.”

Dinah said, closing the door behind her as she dumped her keys on the table.

“Where’s Laurel?”

“Oh, she wanted to be alone because she’s still grieving.” Dinah answered, confused as to why you were wondering why she wasn’t here.

“I’m sorry. Will she be okay?”

“I hope so. She knows she has us all, so there’s something at least. How about you? Are you okay? Are we okay? In the future, I mean.”

Dinah asked as you both sat on the sofa. Now that you were alone, for the first time ever, you found yourself in an awkward environment with your mother. Conversation usually came so easy to you two but finding out you have a daughter when you’ve not even been born yet kind of throws a wrench into that.

“Yeah, we’re good. We’re more than good. You’re the best part of my life, Mum. Dinah. I’m sorry. This is awkward and I don’t know how to handle this.”

“It’s okay. You can continue calling me Mum, if you want. I kinda like it.” She shrugged as she ran her hand over your arm in comfort.

The gentle embrace had you tearing up, as you hadn’t fully processed Zoe’s death and you knew you couldn’t even mention it to your Mum in fear of the rest finding out.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“God, I’m just so exhausted, Mum. Like so exhausted.”

“What do you mean? I thought the future was a good place?”

“I-It is. I’m just so tired. My personal life is kind of a mess back home.” You said, lying through your teeth.

“Oh honey, it’s okay.”

Your Mum said soothingly, not even hesitating before wrapping her arms around you in a motherly embrace. You relaxed in her arms, and just like every time you hugged her, you felt your problems wash away and your mind ease, if only for a few moments.

***

“One of these days, I’m gonna slap Rene upside his head.”

You looked up at your Mum in question.

After your mini breakdown last night, you and your Mum had spent almost the entire night talking, just like you used to in your time. It made you feel better about this entire situation and you were grateful for your mother in any time period.

“What’d he do, Mum?”

“He just messaged me saying that William told him he becomes Mayor and now he’s acting as if he’s my boss.” She said, reading the text from her phone and rolling her eyes.

“I told William not to say anything about the future.” You added, rolling your eyes too.

“You really are your mother’s daughter.”

You and Dinah looked up to find John and Connor standing in front of you, grinning at you both.

“Oh, I didn’t know it was ‘bring your kid to work’ day.” Dinah said sarcastically making you smirk and fight to hide a laugh.

“Right back at you, Dinah. Connor thought he could help. He was an agent at an organization called Knightwatch.”

“It makes A.R.G.U.S. look like a kindergarten class. The Canaries are comparable, though.” He said, grinning once more at you as you rolled your eyes again.

“Canaries?” You glanced back at your mother and then widened your eyes at Connor. You guys weren’t doing a great job at not revealing things about the future.

“Haha, uh, he-forget it.” You waved your hand as if you were literally dismissing something real.

When Dinah and John raised their brows in question at each other, you smacked Connor‘s arm and scolded him.

“Ow, jeez, y/n.” He whispered and when your parents looked at you, the two of you suddenly smiled and pretended to act nonchalantly.

Dinah then changed the subject and showed you both something that was left at the crime scene of a bombing at Starling General. Connor then revealed the hidden message using a black light. You watched as he frowned and then excused himself to check his phone when it rang.

“This is Mia, I should probably go. Y/N?” He said, widening his eyes slightly to let you know he found out something he didn’t want your parents to know about.

“Yeah, I’ll come too. We’ll catch up later?”

“Yeah, of course. Be safe.” Your Mum said, kissing your cheek and quickly hugging you.

As you and Connor walked out SCPD and made your way to Oliver’s apartment, you started to speak.

“I’m sorry that you and John aren’t as close at the moment.”

Though you were glad that you and your mother were on good terms, you did feel bad that the rest of your team’s relationships with their parents had gotten off to a rocky start since you guys came back.

“It’s okay. It’s to be expected. I’m glad for you and your Mom. I know how close you two are. Time has no impact on that.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, “so, what did you see?”

He then began to explain the phrase he saw and the relevance it had to JJ.

“Shit, what are we going to do?”

***

After having relayed the information Connor had told you to William and Mia, you were all divided on how to handle the situation. You and William wanted to tell your parents but Connor and Mia wanted to handle this themselves.

You found yourself starting to get even more annoyed at Mia’s stubbornness but relented when Mia said that they could avenge Zoe by going after JJ themselves.

You all then went to an abandoned building that would later become Galaxy One’s home base. You decided to split up, with Mia and Connor in one direction and you and William in another.

As you and William started to look through the empty space, you heard Mia and Connor yell, “JJ” and before you could run up to join them, you found yourself surrounded by a handful of Deathstrokes.

Just by looking at them, anger coursed through your body as the image of JJ ramming a sword through Zoe’s chest came to the forefront of your mind.

“This is gonna be fun. Don’t move, William.”

You ran straight for the Deathstroke soldiers and began fighting them. You narrowly missed the swipe of their swords and you ducked under one of their arms before putting your full force into your kick to one of their chests. They fell to the floor, the sword clattering down beside them. Quickly picking it up, you stabbed the soldier on the floor and got ready to fight the other two remaining.

Just as you were about to strike, they fell to the floor in front of you, revealing John and Rene with their guns raised. You all jumped when you heard an explosion and ran out the building to find Connor and Mia, now joined by Dinah, Laurel and Oliver.

“You guys have got some explaining to do.” Laurel said, coughing as the smoke filled the air.

***

After the explosion at Galaxy One, which was sure to have consequences, you all went back to the bunker where you were scolded by your parents.

You all explained the significance of the building and that the Deathstroke’s leader was Grant Wilson, Slade’s other son.

“So if you knew it was Grant, then why did you call him JJ?”

You all stilled at the mention of JJ and looked at each other as if mentally asking whether or not to reveal the truth.

“Connor, what’s going on?” John shouted causing you all to flinch.

Connor then explained that JJ was the Deathstroke during your time and that you all thought he had come back alongside you. William then revealed the true nature of Star City in the future and how it’s overrun with crime and corrupt cops and politicians.

Then when William began to refer to Zoe’s death, he was harshly quietened by Mia.

“No, Mia. They have a right to know.”

William continued to explain how JJ had killed Zoe causing Rene to storm out with John and Connor following him.

“Now look what happened. We shouldn’t have told them.” Mia said, shouting at the both of you.

“You know what, Mia? I’ve had enough of you. This is your fault. JJ may have killed Zoe but it would never have happened if you hadn’t been insistent in us going in the first place! She told you that it was a bad idea. We both did.” You started to raise your voice then willed yourself to calm down and speak with a steady tone.

“There’s a reason why we were left in charge. For God’s sake, Mia. You jump into situations without thinking it through. Learn something from your goddamn father, for once.”

You watched as the blonde opened her mouth then closed it, unable to think of a retort. You hoped that, this time, she’d finally take your words into consideration.

Just now realising that you and Mia were still in the bunker, surrounded by Dinah, Laurel, Oliver and William, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Realising that, William attempted to change the subject.

“Zoe was fighting to fix exactly what her dad helped cause. That's why she was a Canary like both of you.

“You guys had a whole network of them in the City.” You added, smiling.

“And that's what Connor was talking about earlier?” You nodded at your mother. “And yet, we still failed to save the city.”

“Mum, you and Laurel helped us try and make it a better place. You trained Zoe and I and countless other women. We saved so many people, all because of you both.”

“Thank you, honey. I’m gonna go check on Rene.” She sighed.

“C-Can I come with you?” You asked with uncertainty but relaxed when she nodded.

***

“Aunt Dinah! I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

You were currently outside Rene and Zoe’s apartment building in the Glades that looked a hell of a lot different than it did in the future. You watched your mother and Zoe hug when they pulled away and the latter looked you confused.

“Hi, I’m Zoe. Nice to meet you.” You shook her hand.

It was extremely weird and heartbreaking to see Zoe so young and happy.

For as long as you’d known her, she’d been so worried about the city and was later broken by Rene’s betrayal. The only time she was ever truly happy was when she was with you.

“I’m Tina. Dinah’s...cousin.” You lied, using the name your mother used when she went undercover.

Rene then ushered Zoe inside leaving you, Dinah and Rene alone. Rene expressed his fears of the numbered days with Zoe when Dinah offered some advice.

“Mum’s right. Just because she’s gone now doesn’t mean she will be. The future isn’t cemented. We can change it. It’s not all that hard to change honestly.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders.

“What? How do you know so much about time travel?”

“Aunt Sara used to take me on the waverider growing up. You and Laurel are great fighters but she wanted me to learn some League skills so she took me to Nanda Parbat where she, Nyssa and Talia taught me how to fight.”

You laughed when Rene and Dinah’s mouth dropped but was soon interrupted when your phone pinged with a message. It was Connor explaining that Mia had stormed out with Laurel and Grant had given a warning.

“We should get back, Mum. Rene, I’m sorry about Zoe. But I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure she’s alive. I can’t lose her again.”

***

After arriving back at the bunker and discussing the next steps, you watched Connor storm away and put on boxing gloves. You approached him just before he threw the first punch.

“What do you want, y/n?”

“I get that you’re angry. I am too.”

“Oh really? Your relationship with your Mum is fine. Mine with my dad is not.” He said snidely making you push him.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor. I’m pissed about Zoe. Your brother killed my best friend. I’m not just going to forget about that!” You whispered harshly, keeping your voice low to prevent your parents from hearing.

You then tied your hair up and discarded your top, leaving you in your sports bra.

“Come on, a moving target’s better.” You sighed, picking up two sets of bamboo sticks, throwing one to Connor.

The two of you began sparring, aware of your parents watching you both.

***

“I need 3 units at the docks and another 2 in Pennytown, okay?” Dinah ordered one of her officers.

After your sparring session, Curtis had explained that the drive that they had found had revealed that Grant was planning another siege. Everyone, with the exemption of you, Dinah and Rene, had left to take care of the bombs.

You then watched as another officer brought in a handcuffed male and sat him in a chair. You and your Mum looked in confusion when you saw the male place something under the chair.

Then all Hell broke loose. The individual put on a Deathstroke mask and began fighting officers. You and your Mum ran over to the chair when you were grabbed by the Deathstroke soldier.

You grabbed his arm and flipped yourself to get out of his grasp before ducking to miss one of his punches. He pulled a gun from one of the officers but before he could shoot anyone, you screamed your Canary Cry, effectively flinging him through a window where he slumped unconscious against a wall.

“BOMB!”

You ran back to your mother and kneeled on the ground beside her.

“Bomb squad’s not gonna get here in time.” Your mother said.

“I got this.”

You had been taught how to disable bombs from different people over the years. They were skills that definitely came in handy.

Removing the device from the chair, you gently placed it against the ground.

“It looks like an IED but there’s something different. The way it’s pulsating makes me think that it’s linked to an intervalometer meaning that there should be a transfer switch in the original device. Luckily if I disable this, it shouldn’t trigger anything. I just hope the intervalometer is with the rest of the team because Connor will be able to disable that.”

You started to inspect the device. You gently removed the plastic cap, revealing two wires. Pulling a switch knife out of your pocket, you grabbed the red wire and cut it, rendering the device harmless.

You sat back against your heels and let out a breath. When you looked up at Dinah, you saw a mixture of shock, surprise and pride on her face.

“God, you’re brilliant.” She said, hugging you close to her.

“Well, I am my Mother’s daughter.”

***

After defusing the bomb, Connor was able to do the same, leading to Grant’s capture and imprisonment in Blackgate. Everyone then went their separate ways to spend more time with their parents so you, Dinah and Laurel ended up going back to SCPD after getting some Big Belly Burger.

The three of you were laughing like you did back home and it made you smile as you thought back to some of your happier memories.

“That sounds gross, Laurel.”

“Just try it.”

Laurel pushed her milkshake towards you and Dinah so you both grabbed a fry and dipped it into the drink. Surprisingly, it tasted quite nice.

“Not bad, Laurel.” Your Mum said as they both smiled at each other.

Though you had revealed a lot about the future, there were a few things you had omitted from mentioning.

“So, here’s a question, y/n. Why do you call John, Rene and Oliver by their names but Sara by Aunt?” Laurel asked you, going full DA mode.

“Ummm, because she is?” You said, unable to think of a lie. “These fries are yum.” You said, swiftly changing the topic causing Dinah and Laurel to share a look.

“Okay, that was weird. I need to run a quick errand but I’ll be back in a bit to work out the logistics of the Canary network. See you, Dinah. Bye, y/n.”

“Bye, Mum.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. You covered your mouth with your hands, as if trying to will the words back in your mouth, but the damage was already done.

“I’m sorry, Mum?”

Your Mums looked at each other in shock and then at you.

“Oops.”

[wings-of-a-storm]

Scenes that stood out as a wtFock newbie

3.THE THIRST MANEUVERS (ALSO KNOWN AS: A SERIES OF SMIRKS) Some of the scenes in wtFock that stood out to me didn’t have any deeper meaning other than just being effing amazingly crafted! And one of such scenes was the series of hilariously devious thirsty maneuvers that Sander kept setting up while cooking with Robbe. This scene was a full on attack, sir! It was just one trap after another. And just when you thought Sander had found them all, boom, he finds another opportunity.

What a list it is:

- Asking Robbe for a pan that was predictably stored at crouching level in front of Sander, but not moving out of the way until Robbe asked. (And honestly, good on Robbe for embracing the sexual tension and giving some back to Sander by retrieving that pan with such a cocky flourish from his risqué position)

- The stove dial two-for-one special: hands touching on the dial and then the friggen SMIRK at the unnecessary face proximity to check the gas had caught -- OH IT CAUGHT!

- The back caress as Sander slid past Robbe to get to his phone. I mean, safety first, guys

- Kitchen DJ-ing to make cooking fun -- also known as singing lyrics to Robbe that could be taken as innuendo: 'pushing down on me, pressing down on you.' Siri, make him stop

- The hand-feeding climax

I mean, oh my god. Sander really carved 'I am bold as fock' into a rock and then outlined it with a blow torch. I reckon Even 'take desperate to a new level' Bech Næsheim would have given Sander a standing ovation for that effort. Honestly, who doesn't enjoy watching that scene just for the pure levels of audacity? Sometimes people are so jaw-droppingly shameless, you just have to throw your head back and laugh. I'm pretty sure this is a scene I will enjoy coming back to again and again at different points in my life. It is such a fun, audacious version of the original scene.

Honourable mention to Sander’s little smiles when Robbe wasn’t looking

Those little smiles were so sweet! It felt like everything Robbe does is just so endearing to Sander and gives him so much joy.

And as a bonus, while this might seem like a weird point that relies heavily on interpretation, it’s a free world so…

3.5 THE BRAVADO SLIP

Okay, so we’ve got the memo at this point that Sander Driesen is characteristically bold as fock. So smooth. Makes flirting seem so effortless. And when he is making croques with Robbe and rolling joints, he is deep into his Mr Cool mode.

But hear me out, guys. I swear that when he goes to feed Robbe the croques with his bare hands and has to move closer for his swag to pay off, there is a moment where a hint of vulnerability slips through into his body language.

Like even though he’s all “Get read to minnnnnd blown”, that confidence actually seems to become a little subdued in the next moment instead of being sustained, like he is secretly feeling he might be pushing his luck with the whole hand-feeding plan. Part of It would be anticipation because Robbe’s lips but it feels like nerves kind of creep in as well.

I think I mostly get that impression because as Sander steps forward, he seems to have a nervous blinking tic with his left eye and his smile dims the tiniest bit. It’s barely a millisecond but it’s the type of look you associate with the self-conscious or shy who have started moving forward before they’ve finished calculating everything that could go wrong.

And if I’m interpreting that look right (let me have this, guys!), it makes me really adore Sander all the more. I’m so soft for hidden vulnerability peeking through a careful facade. It’s so relatable and it shows humility. And after all the boldness Sander exuded in every scene prior, that hint of vulnerability got me very curious about the layers of Sander and endeared me more to him. (As did Sander’s soft smiles when Robbe ate the croques. UGH. There’s no need for that level of softness over eating a sandwich, Sander, get out.)

[dawnwave16]

Gamer Girl

Yes another SAO/MLB crossover.  I love SAO so I can’t help it!  I was going through my grammerly works and saw the start of this and realised I had never completed it despite starting it in Dec so here you go!

Part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4

AO3

Story:

You would think that Lila Rossi’s lies would be exposed quickly once they had been posted onto the Ladyblog. In fact, you would think that they would be exposed almost as soon as they were spoken with someone so smart in the class. Either way, you would be wrong. It had been six months since the Liar had joined the class and the lies she had told still hadn’t been exposed. Marinette had tried at first but she had soon stopped when it became clear to her that as long as Lila had a story to tell, her class would listen.

As a result of this Marinette had stopped trying to protect her class from Lila’s lies. She had taken to simply ignoring her. She had started to ignore her class too. She didn’t make them the huge birthday cakes or mountain of cupcakes anymore. She didn’t bring in cookies for the whole class once a week and she stopped making personal gifts for everyone. If they wanted anything they had to ask for it but that would require that they remembered that she existed first. It was at the stage where if she didn’t remind her class that she was there, they simply forgot her. She honestly didn’t mind though as it had freed up quite a bit of time for her. Her design business had taken off in Japan as she had several friends there. If she wasn’t ladybug she would have considered moving there as she was much happier there then she was here in Paris. It was due to this that when Marinette had any downtime she had taken to gaming again. Not just any gaming but playing VRMMORPG’s. She had been a little wary of them after being caught in SAO several years prior but when Yui had contacted her after Kirito had logged in to ALO to try to save Asuna, she had willingly gone back into a full dive in order to help him and continued to do so as she went on frequent raids with his group. She had met Kirito when he had wandered into her clothing shop looking for a way to either upgrade or replace his black coat on one of the days that she had been running it rather than leaving it to an NPC. The two had partied together at her suggestion to get the correct mats and had become fast friends with him coming to her whenever he wanted his wardrobe upgraded. Unfortunately, she had reduced the amount of time she had spent gaming due to her class relying on her for so much but now that they weren’t, she had picked up where she had left off. Her stats had skyrocketed with her return to gaming and she had realised that her crush had made her act a little like Klien did whenever he saw a pretty girl. As soon as she realised this she had taken a hard look at herself and decided that while Adrien was handsome, he wasn’t worth making a fool of herself over. The fact that the girls in her class weren’t pushing her at him anymore helped with getting her to calm down too and now she was able to speak to him without looking like an idiot. The past week had been quiet. She’d seen her classmates all talking about something but Marinette hadn’t even asked what it was. She had a raid planned with Kirito and the others that she was looking forward too. Unfortunately, Asuna hadn’t woken from SAO. The blow she had taken from Kiyaba when protecting Kirito had killed her and not even the fact that the game had finished extremely soon after that had saved her like it had saved Kirito. The Asuna that had been pictured at the top of the world tree in ALO that had driven Kirito and herself back into gaming so soon after SAO had been cleared had been an AI that had been created by a mad man. Her family had been unwilling to believe that she was dead when everyone else had started to wake up, choosing instead to believe that she was one of the three hundred that were still trapped somehow. It had been a terrible blow to them when they had realised that this was not the case. The planned raid was one planned in her honour as this Saturday marked the anniversary of her death. Marinette still couldn't believe that three years had passed since she had been declared dead, nor could she believe all the VR events that had happened since then. Marinette had found it ironic that, now that she was no longer focused on Adrien, she had been able to see that she had had a crush on Kirito the whole time. When she had realised this the two of them had sat down and had a long conversation about their hopes and dreams. She had told him about her interest in fashion while in SAO and had kept him up to date with how her brand was doing IRL. In turn, he had told her about how his studies were progressing and how frustrated he was becoming by trying to read all the articles coming out of America about the advancements within his chosen field of study. His face when she had suggested that he have Yui run a translation program over them so that he could read them more easily had been fairly comical, even though she had reminded him that it would be in his best interest to learn English properly anyway. Marinette was drawn out of her musings when Mlle Bustier finally managed to get the class's attention. “Class I know this is may come as a surprise to you but due to the fact that Lila has to go to Achu and we won't be able to celebrate her birthday with her on the actual day, we will be hosting a party for her this Saturday.” The class immediately jumped into planning mode. “I'll do the music!” Nino called. “Ooh, Jeluka and I can organise the decorations!” Rose pipped up “Oh please! I'm going to London with Mummy and Daddy and I'm taking Sabrina with me. You losers can count me out.” Chloe sniffed while Sabrina nodded quickly, even though she didn't look too happy about it. “We could have the party at the park,” Mylene suggested which had Kim, Max, Alix and Ivan nodding eagerly in agreement. “I can't guys, my father has me scheduled for an all-day photo shoot,” Adrien said while he rubbed the back of his neck and appeared regretful. Marinette doubted it but she didn't say anything. “Awe, that's too bad, maybe we can facetime you in one or two of your breaks? I can organise that easily!” Alya tried to comfort him by saying. Marinette shared a look with Nathaniel who shook his head showing that he didn't but this story any more than she did. “What about you, Marinette?” Mlle Bustier said in a sickly sweet tone as though she expected Marinette would agree no matter what her real plans were. The class looked at her expecting her to say she would organise the food because none of the others had offered to do so. “I have plans for Saturday,” Marinette stated calmly. Mlle Bustiers eyes turned cold even as the class started to protest and say she had to organise the food. “Now Marinette, don't you think it would be nice to organise the food for the party?” Mlle Bustier's voice was saccharine sweet as she tried to convince Marinette that she should just comply. “If you want the bakery to do the catering you need to place an order and pay for it like everyone else. I have babysitting for Madam Chamack in the morning while she does her grocery shopping and has a few other appointments. I also have plans for the afternoon but those are personal and something I have been helping to plan for a while now. I can't back out of them now.” Marinette rebutted firmly. She was going on the raid in Asuna's memory no matter what. As she spoke the expectant gazes of her class had turned to glares. “Look, you guys haven't wanted me around for over six months. I have resigned as class president, giving that title to Alya.” Just as Marinette was about to explain more, Kagami walked in wearing a yukata. It took a moment for the class to notice her but Marinette noticed something that the class hadn't noticed and quickly walked towards her. “Do you need some help with retying your yukata?” She asked quietly, not realising that she had slipped into Japanese as she spoke. “Please,” Kagami's voice was filled with relief even as she let Marinette adjust and retie the garment. “How do you know how to do this, let alone speak Japanese so well?” Kagami asked as Marinette worked. Neither girl noticed the class staring at the two of them in shock. When everything was tied properly Marinette stepped back. “I have my own set of yukatas from some of my closest friends in Japan. When you spend as much time with people as I did in the game, you try to find other things to keep you occupied other than grinding for levels. Asuna, Lisbeth and Silica all got together to teach me how to tie mine without relying on in-game mechanics. They also worked on my accent which is why I barely have one when I switch to Japanese, or so I have been told.” Marinette smiled sadly as she remembered the times they had gotten together to have a girls night at one of their homes. The game mechanics meant that they hadn't been able to do much by way of dress up or spa treatments but because Marinette had the tailoring skill she could manipulate fabrics and they had taught her that way. She shook her head quickly and looked back to Kagami. “Are you comfortable?” Kagami nodded and thanked her and they spoke for a little while longer before Kagami left and Marinette turned to walk back to her seat, only to see the class staring at her. “What?” “Marinette, what was that? What language were you speaking? Since when are you and Kagami friends?” The three questions had been thrown at her by Alya, Mlle Bustier and Adrien. Marinette sighed and shook her head then answered. “In order, that as you so eloquently put it Alya, was me helping Kagami to retie her yukata as it is always easier to do when someone helps you, especially if you want one of the more complicated knots. The language, Mlle Bustier, was Japanese. One of the five languages I speak fluently. The other three are Cantonese, Italian and English. I didn't list French as it should be obvious. And as for your question Adrien, Kagami and I became friends on Friendship day

while playing that game. I stuck to French that day so I'm not sure she knew to come here but it doesn't matter.” Marinette was walking back to her seat as she spoke, taking care watch where she put her feet as the class had taken to trying to trip her every so often. “Why did you need my help when your uncle visited then if you can speak Cantonese?” Adrien said in bafflement. “Simple. Uncle Fu speaks Mandarin not Cantonese so we wouldn't have been able to understand each other. I also thought you might enjoy a day practising a language that you were being taught rather than just reading it.” Marinette replied with a small smile even as she sat down again. The class was still glaring at her but she ignored them and Lila quickly reclaimed their attention with some false tears and a sob story. By the time Saturday came around the class had forgotten all about the incident with Kagami and Marinette's refusal to help out with the food or having anything to do with the party. This left the class scrambling to organise food and drinks in time and unfortunately made everything a lot less enjoyable then they had hoped it would be. Marinette, on the other hand, had had a fabulous time looking after Mamon as Kagami and her mother had come round and between them they had dressed Mamon up in different yukatas and kimonos, teaching Mamon how to speak a few words in Japanese at the same time. Despite her very stern nature, Kagami's mother had seemed pleased to be passing on a small part of her culture to others who were eager to learn. The raid had gone well too and she and Kirito along with the others had shared some of their favourite stories about Asuna once it had been completed. Despite the sombre reason for the gathering, everyone had made the effort to be happy and to celebrate the good times they had had with her and with each other. They had held the get together at Marinette's home, which was above her in-game shop so they hadn't needed to worry about finding a private spot when they were ready to log off. When Marinette had walked into class on Monday, she had expected to be bombarded with stories of how great the party was. Instead, she was met with sullen glares and dead silence. Marinette raised an eyebrow but shrugged and ignored them, turning her attention back to her phone. She had woken up an hour early but instead of getting up straight away she had started messaging Kirito as he had been online. They had finally decided to give dating a try the previous day but they were taking things fairly slowly. Currently, they were talking about if she would be able to visit during the upcoming school holidays and trying to work out the logistics if she got permission to do so. “Marinette.” Mlle Bustier called. “Yes, Mlle Bustier?” “I thought you were going to do the food for Lila's party on Saturday. Where were you?” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “I told you I had plans for Saturday and that I would not be at the party.” “Marinette, remember what I said about -” “Mlle Bustier” Marinette cut her off, “While you might think that babysitting and going to the memorial of a friend is less important than a party for someone who does not like me, I don't. While my friend was declared dead three years ago, Saturday was the first time any of us had the chance to truly get together and remember her. Asuna died trying to give others a chance to live and she deserved to be remembered by those of us who were closest to her.” Marinette's voice was sharp and her tone was ice-cold as she spoke. Mlle Bustier and the rest of Marinette's class stared at her. “Footage was recently released of how she died if you are callous enough to demand proof. Unfortunately, I think you are because if anyone except Lila tells all of you anything you just swallow it but as soon as it's to do with anyone else you insist on having proof.” Marinette could tell that the class was about to start shouting at her but she ignored them and looked at her phone only to freeze. From what she was seeing, Yui had copied herself onto her phone and found all the videos from the past six months, as well as recording the confrontation that had just happened and sent it to the School Board. Marinette had planned to try to get a bit more evidence before she did that but it seemed that Yui had decided enough was enough. She was brought out of her frozen state when she heard Max asking if he had permission to play the video he had found for the class. She was about to warn them that it was fairly violent but Mlle Bustier had already granted her permission and Markov was projecting the video of the final SAO battle against the Skull Reaper on the white screen that Mlle Bustier had pulled down to cover the blackboard. The class watched in horrified amazement at what was being shown and gasped when they saw the younger Marinette on the screen amid the fighters. Marinette could see they were wanting to point out the fact that this was a game, you couldn't die because of a game and that none of the female players had died in that fight when they saw that Marinette's eyes hadn't left the screen and that the video hadn't ended. They gasped in horror as they watched everyone collapse to the floor and screamed when a girl jumped between the two players that were duelling, killing her. The video ended and the class was silent. Marinette spoke then, breaking the silence in a voice that was so brittle and hollow that none of them knew what to think. “What you just watched was the final two fights of SAO. The girl that died was my friend Asuna Yuuki. Before you say it's just a game, get Max to look up the details. It was well documented. I'm going home, don't bother to try to stop me. You just made me watch my friend die AGAIN, I think I've earned my mental health day. I will stay in this class for the rest of the term, then I will be transferring to a different class. I want nothing to do with any of you anymore, Mlle Bustier I hope you are proud of yourself for letting things escalate to this.” Having said her piece, Marinette turned round and walked out of the room. She knew there would probably be Akumas that would be created by what had just happened but at that moment she just wanted to be alone. Or better yet, surrounded by here real friends.

[mk-wizard]

Proof that the Decepticon Way is Not Evil

Hello, Transformer fans.

After doing an essay on the glaring flaws in the Autobot way, I wanted to do one that points out the virtues in the Decepticon way. Note that these good points do not make Decepticons like Megatron or Starscream any less evil. A criminal/terrorist is still a criminal/terrorist regardless of how they identify as and nothing Megatron, Starscream, Knockout or anyone else says or does will dismiss their crimes. Also, Starscream is just a stinker in general. He is NOT the standard of how Decepticons are as even other bad ones don’t like him and think he’s a stinker.

This essay is meant to point out the TRUE things the Decepticon way stands for and why many bots believe in it, and how Megatron and other criminals don’t stand for it as much as they claim they do.

They allow free speech. - If there is one thing that we consider as the bedrock of all freedom, it is free speech even if we may not always like what the other person has to say. While most of the time, this practise of the exercise to say whatever you want is taken too far among the Decepticon terrorists to the point where they show no respect, but the fact that they can is telling. While I myself don’t encourage unkind words, I will chalk one up for the Decepticons in how a Decepticon can say what they want even to Megatron’s face and while he will chastise them vocally for it, unless your words have treacherous implications, he will not so much as give you a slap on the hand. In fact, Megatron will actually listen to someone if they have a good idea or will point out the flaws in his idea. A society that allows people to say what they mean even if it is “my leader stinks” is one that has the right idea. After all, how can you become a better society if no one is allowed to say what is bothering them so the problem can be fixed?

They assign leaders based on merit not a title. - Though the lineage of Decepticon leaders is passed on by default from the one Megatron/Megara to the their child, they are more than willing to make exceptions if someone better for the role comes along. Heck, heirs/heiresses have even been known to refuse the role of leadership. I have to admit that a system that recognises that leadership is not a trait that is passed down genetically is progressive. And for that, I give a point to the Decepticons in that. In Autobot society, a leader system is either hierarchical (from one Prime to their child) or the Autobot Matrix “selects” a leader (and might I add, sometimes, people have been known to misinterpret the Matrix’s reaction or lie about it entirely). The Autobot people have no say whatseover.

They respect individuality. - Did you know that an Autobot can live in a Decepticon community without converting? It’s true. In fact, there are many Autobots who live among Decepticons. Another thing that Decepticons allow is the freedom to believe in what you want meaning they permit people to be Atheist and allow varying levels of how devout you are. They believe religion is a personal thing. Another thing that is obvious about Decepticons is how different all of them are and not just visually. Their alt modes are very diverse. You change into anything you want even if it has nothing to do with your job because they accept that your alt mode doesn’t hinder you from doing your job. Look at Knockout who changes into a luxury car while being a Decepticon medic, Soundwave who changes into a palm sized cassette player and is Megatron’s confidante, and Reflector who change into a camera and is a force to be reckoned with. The only exception are the Seekers and from what I have seen, the Seekers are a special case of which they have the same mold because it is uniform in their case which they consider as an honour to wear. And even then, you can choose your own colours. Another thing that I notice and actually is rather heartwarming is that among Decepticons, they are even more diverse in terms of culture. They have bots of varying origins which you can tell by their accents. Among Autobots, you either sound American (even when oriental). From what I recall, only Perceptor had a European accent (British specifically). When they said “till all are one”, I they didn’t mean all had to be the same.

They are more feminist. - As much as I don’t want to be “that girl”, I have to give hats off to the Decepticons in how they treat women and this shows most of all in how they DRESS the women. Even when a female Decepticon is very feminine that dresses femininely, she will be covered and be dressed for the part rather than show a lot of plating (skin) or be overly pretty. Just compare designs using this list. As much as I myself don’t see anything wrong with female characters dressing beautifully, sexy or being naturally beautiful and sexy, or even them dressing sexy on their own time (I do sometimes), but there is a definite night and day difference between how female Autobots behave and how female Decepticons do. The Decepticon females are more professional and don’t do cute. Note that Blackarachnia was originally a Predacon not a Decepticon and she is also the exception not the standard. And even then, Blackarachnia was honestly good at her job, she was a genius scientist in her own right and she could take care of herself. Even Prime Arcee doesn’t display this level independence or emotional maturity. Another thing that is telling about how they see women and what they value in them is the kind of woman Megatron fell in love with. In G1, Megatron was attracted to a robot ninja Nightbird who wasn’t even a Transformer and wasn’t dressed sexy or anything. She never even flirted with him. He was charmed by her skills as a warrior and how she got the job done. This speaks volumes.

Megatron gives Decepticons a choice on whether to follow him or not. - And no, I am not talking about how he deals with traitors like Starscream. Since the days of G1, there have been Decepticons who did not work under Megatron and Megatron did not criminalise these Decepticons for it. He gives Decepticons a choice on whether or not to serve him directly, and if they say “no”, he moves on. The only time he will ever criminalise a Decepticon is if they directly act against him which is really the only valid reason to criminalise them. Megatron has even been known to respect Decepticons who were independent enough to do without him.

They do not outcast or ostracise the misfits or handicapped. - If there is one noble thing the Decepticons do that I will always take my hat off to them, it is that they do not deem a bot useless or will lock them up for being different or imperfect and they recognise that having a handicap doesn’t make you disabled at everything. Heck, they even employ unchangers (Transformers who cannot transform)! And I can’t help but notice that almost every beast type with the exception of the Dinobots is a Decepticon. I mean, just look at RID. All of the inmates were beast types. They aren’t concerned with what you can’t do or whether you’re pretty to look at. They are just concerned with what you can do. I also want to point out that their own leader Megatron may very well be a mutant, beast type or both. And in the defence of the beast types, mutants and the handicapped, where did the Autobots expect them to go if they got deemed as freaks or were chased out of town everywhere else? As we saw in Animated, Blitzwing who suffers from split personality disorder was still a high ranking respected officer who served Megatron directly and proved to still be a force to be reckoned with as he has a multi-elemental arsenal, he is an amazing fighter, he is a responsible leader when needed and he is a genius. Then we have the Insecticons from Prime who are fiercely loyal to Megatron and not for nothing. Megatron stands up for them even when other Decepticons badmouth them.

The Decepticon way is based on freedom. - The whole reason the Decepticons came to be and all of the points I listed all come back to freedom in all its forms. And after seeing that the Autobot way is not very free at all, is it any wonder that the Decepticons came to be? Now, I am not condoning any criminal activity or terrorism, but I cannot blame rebellion and the demand for change. If you even look closely at the Decepticon insignia, it looks like there is a flying vehicle on it and it was confirmed that this was intentional. Another thing that was intentional since G1 is that all Decepticons can fly in robot mode at least like Superman (though some series forget this fact). The ability to fly is in fact a metaphor for freedom and the original Megatron who founded the Decepticons (not the one we know now) wanted every Decepticon to be able to fly because he wanted every Decepticon to always remember what their faction stands for. Like I said, nothing the bad Decepticons say justifies their criminal activity or terrorism, but it’s clear that the Decepticon way itself isn’t evil.

This is why I think it is also high time we saw more good Decepticons who refuse to convert.

[fuckyeahharryhart]

PART 5 FAN FIC

KINGSMAN III: REDACTED

Summary: Harry Hart reminisces about his own military past with the British Armed Forces. He recalls the tenent that enabled him to survive as a member of the22nd Special Air Service Regiment (SAS), a unit of United Kingdom Special Forces.

WORD COUNT: 3377

Notes: These later chapters have had less time to plan - kind of literally trying things on to see what fits... :)

-----

In person, Harry Hart was also a man who had to make impossible decisions under unrelenting pressure. He had done it many times, during his time in the British Armed Forces, not just Kingsman. Many thought him to be cold and unfeeling in these instances. But even within these circumstances, he was still Harry Hart. Brave, dependable, strong and honourable. He was an advocate, a protector, an anchor. A rock within the Kingsman agency. Everything a mentor and leader should be. If fellow agents found themselves more and more often at his side, they would catch themselves beginning to wonder about the man who wore the impeccably tailored suit. The man behind the smooth, deep, steady voice. About the man himself. The man whose code name was Galahad.

He was an agent that lived up to his handle.  It was a noble name. Courageous. A name for a figure renowned for his gallantry and purity. A name bestowed upon the most perfect of all knights. It befitted him.

Harry was a gentleman through and through. It was impossible for him to be anything else. He was not only a gentleman in traditional terms, an upholder of chivalry, civility, well-mannered and unerringly polite. He was also a gentle man. This would seem incongruous with his work. However, it was part of the reason he was exceedingly good at his job. As soon as the work was done, the target neutralised, the mission complete, he let it all go. Letting any hardness or indifference fall away. Completely. He consistently put his life and the lives of others on the line, many times in very unpleasant circumstances, to say the least. To maintain a sense of balance, to maintain his sanity, not to speak of his humanity, the moment he took off his glasses, he was no longer Agent Galahad, he was Harry Hart.

Deadly assassins were not typically regarded as gentle. But Harry was not by nature a violent man. Neither was he destructive or combative, unlike many of his contemporaries who were drawn to the work because of its brutal nature. Harry was a Kingsman agent because he believed strongly in their purpose to uphold the good and protect the innocent, but also because he was just exceptionally good at the work. The art of spy craft and engagement. Exceedingly good. Disconcertingly good. In the same way one might be a talented piano player, or dancer or an artist. Like Gwendolyn mentioned, it was part a part of him.

He never questioned these skills. He considered them as natural to his character as his height or his brown eyes. He lived them for the majority of his life. He applied them in a manner that would best serve himself and the greater good.

Though he never spoke of it, most of his experience prior to Kingsman, he received during his training and deployment in the British Armed Forces. When he left the military, he was an officer of the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment (SAS), a unit of United Kingdom Special Forces, a highly trained and specialised division of the British Army.

If Kingsman was the buffer that had honed and polished Harry Hart into the refined gentleman agent he was today, the SAS was chisel that first carved the man out of the potential stone. The SAS Special Forces had much in common with Kingsman.  Special operations were already a part of his lifestyle. Much like the agents of Kingsman, the men of SAS were especially designated, organised, selected, trained and equipped. They utilised unconventional techniques and modes of employment.

The 22nd Special Air Service Regiment was responsible for covert reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, direct action, unconventional warfare and hostage rescue. Much of the information and actions regarding the SAS were highly classified, and were never commented on by the British government nor the Ministry of Defence due to the sensitivity of their operations. For Harry, discretion was not just advised, it was demanded.

He operated behind enemy lines, avoiding direct combat and detection by the enemy. He led commando operations, highly mobile , highly intense surprise raids. His role frequently involved covert direction of air and missile attacks, in areas deep behind enemy lines, placement of remotely monitored sensors and guerrilla operations.

The similarities only went so far. SAS utilised more traditional weapons of combat and warfare, riffles, machine guns, flash bangs, grenades. Whereas Kingsman had the freedom to me more creative, or constraints that made it necessary for additional ingenuity with it’s artillery, often fashioning gentlemanly accessories into lethal weapons. The SAS formal dress khaki uniforms weren’t as stylish and well tailored as Kingsman’s suits, but he did note that as SAS, the cap badge on his sand coloured beret depicted a downward pointing Excalibur, a sword wreathed in flames. Perhaps the sword was a foreshadow of his future as one of the twelve Kingsman’s knights.

If any of his colleagues were to know of his history with the SAS, the would probably respond with confusion. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe Harry Hart to to have the necessary skills. It was that they couldn’t imagine, their stylish, debonair, perfectly appointed quintessential gentleman secret agent in any other role other than Galahad. They were much more familiar with Harry in a Kingsman suit, taking out thugs with his weaponised brolly, rather than the iconic black overalls and the S6 British Army respirator of the SAS, carrying a Heckler and Koch MP5A3, or a C8 Carbine assault rifle, as well as any other item or weapon he might need in battle.

For those agents that were employed long enough with Kingsman, or heard stories passed around the years, it was suspected that Harry was a part of the Counter Revolutionary Blue team for Operation Nimrod during the Iranian Embassy siege. In 1980, from April 30th for a period of 6 days, a band of six heavily armed men overtook the Iranian Embassy in London. 26 people were held hostage. On the last day, after days of unsuccessful negotiations, the gunmen executed a hostage and threw his dead body from the Embassy windows. On that day, the SAS, implemented Operation Nimrod by abseiling from the roof of the embassy and breaking the windows for entry. The raid was over in just over 15 minutes. They were able to rescue all but one hostage and killed all but one of the six hostage takers. No one could confirm whether he had been involved or not. No one had the nerve or balls to ask Harry directly.

The last time Harry was on a mission of similar nature, was the capture of Falcon, a terrorist in the Middle East. He, Merlin and their recruits at the time, James and Lee, fast roped into enemy territory.  Fast roping, also known as Fast Rope Insertion Extraction System (FRIES), was a technique for descending a thick rope to access difficult locations by air. It useful for Kingsman to deploy agents into enemy territories where their helicopter could not touch down. Unfortunately, that was the mission where Harry’s mistake cost Eggsy’s father’s life. That was the last time anyone ever saw the sight of Harry in a combat jumpsuit and respirator for a mission.

“Who Dares Wins.” It was the motto of the SAS unit of the British Army Special Forces. During his time in the service, this motto was the catalyst for many dangerous operations. In regards to Kingsman, he also found it appropriate as spies weren’t in the business of truth.

The selection for the Special Forces was as brutal as Kingsman recruitment, just in different ways.They would, however, fight for the title of the most dangerous job interview in the world. SAS selection was reported to be one of the most demanding military training courses in the world with a pass rate of less than 10%. It was a six-month test of strength, endurance, and resolve over the Brecon Beacons and Elan Valley in Wales, and in the jungle of Belize. With SERE Survive, Evade, Resist, Escape training to be the most psychologically challenging aspect. A Kingsman recruit had a one in 12 chance of securing said spot. It was also a test of strength, endurance and resolve mostly over the land and sky of London and the surrounding country side. It also included some fairly challenging psychological tests including one with a train tunnel with a false floor and another with a puppy and a gun. Many candidates failed out at this point. It took about the same amount of time.

In the field, he was indispensable. His experience in the military prepared him for life as a spy. He was exceptional at nearly every aspect of being an agent as he was as a soldier. Harry was able to fit seamlessly into Kingsman’s ranks because he already had specialised skills and experience. He was a highly-trained operative, specialised in sufficiency, stealth, speed, and tactical coordination. If there was a man designed to be a Kingsman agent, Harry Hart would be that man.

��—

He did not get any enjoyment from destruction, violence or bloodshed. However, he was not opposed to participating or even instigating moments of sheer mayhem. During the course of his time at Kingsman, he had obliterated many targets and had amassed a shockingly high body count. He didn’t carry any guilt or blame, nor did he celebrate the bloodshed that resulted in their victory over a target. Harry simply accepted violence as part and parcel to the work of a Kingsman agent. To be limited, when possible, though, not altogether unavoidable.

Emotions played an important role in how he operated in life, in the greater world around him. Emotions were a path to a deeper understanding of one’s self and one’s relationships with others. They motivated one’s actions or inactions.  Feelings, along with survival instincts were key to one’s decision making processes. But when there was too much or when the emotion was overwhelming, as it could be in extreme cases of conflict or in the chaos of combat, it could make a soldier dysfunction. One of the tenets that had allowed him to not only survive, but to thrive in the military was “be smart now, feel later.”

Part of his success in the SAS was due to his ability to “switch off” his emotions on-demand in moments of chaos or conflict; combat, crises and other high stress activities, basically his entire time in service. He carried this over to his work at Kingsman. His ambivalence allowed him to remain cool, composed and collected in some very unnerving, seemingly impossible situations. In these instances, when other agents might panic, freeze, or be blinded by outrage, fall victim to their own anger and lose control, time would almost freeze for Harry. Allowing him very few precious moments to hyper focus on every minute detail of the circumstance they faced. His senses would sharpen, his mind would calm, his heart rate would slow and remain steady and even. His mind would become a blank slate where every piece of information crucial to their survival was at his fingertips. Irrelevant information fell by the wayside. Emotion was set aside. Sentimentality had no place. Feelings were insignificant.

Agents who accompanied Harry on the field and found themselves is one of these dire situations, would attest to this severe, drastic, unyielding and unfamiliar Agent Galahad. Someone who could evidently act without regard for their safety, well-being, or even survival. At times, even purposely placing them in even more danger or putting another agents lives on the line as if they were inconsequential to him. He would act as if it was nothing to leave behind an injured agent if it could protect the mission. It was as if they were as insignificant to him as an empty clip, a weapon that no longer had any use to him. To be discarded and tossed aside. During these times, Harry would be the cold, dispassionate, ruthless killer that was his reputation.

It was in these hard, stone-faced moments, where he fell into a meditative state or even hypnotised himself in the matter of seconds. Sometimes, only a split second was needed for him to see the solution, the way out, the answer that would get them out of what seemed like a “death and death” situation.

Emotions defined his humanity. But it also could get in the way when he needed to be operative. Thus, on occasion, he had to defer his humanity and be cold and analytical in the field, just as he had been in battle.

In these crucial moments, he needed to see all his available choices and not just what his state of emotions gravitated toward. The more severe an emotional response was expected from any given situation, the more likely it could negatively impact his ability to resolve a difficult task, complication or crisis.

Occasionally, that solution had to disregard his agents humanity, for that sentimentality would surely cloud his judgement, make him hesitate or doubt himself at the most critical moment. They could no longer be considered friends, or even colleagues. It was necessary to strip them of their identity, regard them without pity or remorse. As collateral damage. How hard would it be to achieve this state with family or loved ones, he thought. It was in these times that pure logic had to drive his actions and not be directed by his emotions.

Emotional detachment meant that he could focus and think clearly and act with precision in matters of life and death.

In these moments, there was space in his mind for nothing else except the situation at hand. And without fail, often past the point of all hope lost, no more options, no more cards to play, he would act in a manuever that was incomprehensible to them. Unthinkable. A tactic unfathomable and impossible for anyone else but Harry. Everyone, even the agent he seemingly had no problem disregarding, would come out alive. Often disbelieving, shell-shocked, nerves shot, not unscathed. Confused and outraged. But alive. Agents who experienced this side of Harry Hart, while they continued to admire and respect him, their esteem would now also carry a touch of reverence, incredulity, and awe.

Soldiers and agents not personally involved or had no emotional interest in their work, were able to perform their jobs better. It was a form of professional detachment.

It was not that he was unfeeling. Quite the opposite. It was as if he felt too much. His ability to remove and distance himself from situations was one of the main reasons he was so successful as an agent and continued to be so. Without this survival skill, the inevitable, at times, devastating losses he had faced, and would no doubt face in the future, would break even a better man. Though one would be hard pressed to find a man better than Harry.

What was seen as dispassionate, emotionless indifference was a preservation mechanism, designed to fiercely safeguard and defend a singularly compassionate soul, with a deep reverence for human life, and an immeasurable capacity to love.

But he had never been put in as difficult a position as Merlin.

———

There were not many stories that affected Harry on both a personal and professional level, but in terms of having a difficult past lead you down the path of becoming a spy, he found hers to be the most compelling. He was, not only impressed by her skills as an agent, he was moved by her emotional resilience, fortitude, courage, and most of all, like she said her mother had, her grit.

This was a young woman, whose odds were not just against her, they were set up for her to fail and fail hard. Who was able to overcome the most brutal experiences that anyone can face, let alone a child, and come out, not only adjusted, but stronger for her experience. The last time he had witnessed such strong will and raw, natural talent, was Eggsy.  And Eggsy’s father.

He sensed what she was going to ask. What would be the ramifications if she were to join Kingsman? They could certainly use the manpower. Their ranks had been severely depleted since the Golden Circle. Merlin’s expertise and guidance was missed almost as much as they missed the man himself. He understood why Merlin, Hamish, sent her away. A constant reminder of not only the lives he lost, but also the terrible way they were taken from him. A reminder of the life he had sacrificed so much for. The constant fear for her safety. Every time she was out in the field, wondering if he had to prepare for another situation like his wife. For Harry and Eggsy, she would always be a reminder of the friend they lost and the sacrifice he made.

He softened. How would it be, to have everyone send you away because your presence would only be a painful reminder of loss?

Eggsy turned to face him, looking absurdly forlorn as well. Like she was a lost puppy that he wanted to keep.

She smoothed her hair away from her face, brushing the length of it behind her while she squared up her shoulders.

She spoke frankly. “You are the last link that I have to my father. I want to take his place.”

When neither of them replied. She added plainly.

“You clearly have some issued that need to be addressed.” Referring to the car with the shooters and that someone was actively trying to kill them.

“It looks like you could use the help.”

Harry, in his most grave and serious voice, a voice that made even Eggsy straighten up.

“This decision on your part, should not be taken easily or lightly.” He watched her intently. He leaned forward to emphasis his point. “Do you understand all of the ramifications of your choice? You could find yourself in the exact same situation you were in when you were a child. Is that a possibility you can handle?”

Also leaning forward, she matched the seriousness of his tone.

“I have no family, no connections, no ties. I have nothing of value that can be used against me. I’m a trained and experienced agent. I was raised Kingsman and there is nothing of your organization that has been hidden from me. I understand very well.”

Not anything of value now, Harry thought. But considering the future? Yet Harry himself was of the same mentality as Merlin and his wife. Nothing came out of acting now for an eventuality that may never materialise.

There was silence from the two men. She certainly wasn’t going to plead or beg. She had done her part. She told her story. If they couldn’t recognise her value, she would leave right then and there.

She tried to hide her sarcasm, but she wasn’t sure if she succeeded. She leaned back into her booth, crossed her arms over her chest. With a bit of added confrontation.

“I’ve just saved your lives. What else do I have to do to prove myself?”

Harry contemplated. Eggsy contemplated the same. Even though they didn’t know what the other was thinking, they were both thinking the same. We are agreed. For Merlin.

Harry faced her again and with all of nobility, chivalry and honour that was based on centuries of tradition. “Welcome to Kingsman.”

Gwendolyn, in equal measures of dignity and respect. “Thank you.”

Now that was done, she thought, with a little more drama than she expected, but it had all been manageable.

“So it seems we have a problem. How can I help?”

And with that simple question, Gwendolyn found herself within the ranks of Kingsman.

----

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Comments, suggestions feedback always welcome and appreciated. Even if it's just to say Hi!

[nyisntnywithoutyou]

THE ONE WITH THE SECRET

When it came to Hogwarts, it was more of an escape to Poppy than simply a school. Life wasn’t hell with her grandparents, but it was not heaven, either. The pale freckled girl with dark locks of hair couldn’t even complain; she didn’t feel the right to, she was no Harry Potter or anything alike - some tragedies get people’s sympathy, that just wasn’t her case. Poppy’s mom was dead too and poor girl didn’t even have a dad, but it didn’t seem to matter to anyone. She was just the bastard daughter and the weight her grandparents were destined to carry from then on. As Poppy’s grew older, she stopped resenting her family. As complicated as they all were, none of what happened was their fault, anyway. That was her problem and hers alone. It became easy to blame it all on herself, even if that was not even slightly fair. For Poppy, life felt like sorrow and shame. For who she was and for who she couldn’t be. “Sometimes I think I was born backwards, you know.” she’d say, "Come out my mom the wrong way. I hear words go past me backwards. The people I should love, I hate. And the people I hate..." And so the hours would pass, days go by and in a wind blow, she’d go through years of unhappiness. Until her eleventh birthday finally came and so did her Hogwarts letter. For a moment, hope lightened up inside her, maybe there was still a way out of the misery. Maybe she could make friends, trace her own path and, who knows, even find her real father. Being sorted in Slytherin was one of her worst disappointments, in the very beginning. The whole Quill family was full of proud Slytherins, but not Poppy’s mom. She was a Hufflepuff. A cheerful, captivating Hufflepuff that would easily befriend everyone. Not having any other parental example to follow, her only hope to honour her mother’s name was being sort on Hufflepuff as well. But that was certainly not what happened and it drifted Poppy even further away from beloved Taylor Quill’s memory. But it didn’t take long for her to find worthy companionship. Soon conquering Madam Hooch’s attention with her great reflexes and flying skills, Poppy got a spot on Slytherin’s Quidditch team as Beater and, during one of her first matches, met her fellow opponents and, later, close friends, Fred and George Weasley. She also met Charles Weasley at the time, but the boy was years older than her and they didn’t get along well. He was, in her words, “a show off”. In her third year, Poppy Quill was already the best Potions’ student and would take extra classes in secret, in which Snape would teach her how to reproduce advanced and even forbidden potions. It was also in her third year that Poppy started hanging out with Millicent Coltrane, a second year Slytherin that soon became her very best friend. And for the few next years, everything seemed to be going so well with Poppy; good friends, good grades and good looks. But there was something; eating her insides. Something rotten. Something sinking her stomach down and it made her ill - physically ill, even. She felt anger, hate, rage breaking down to her every single nerve. Then, she would run somewhere isolated, scream, hurt herself, vomit and lose her breath. After the girl had organised all her emotions on imaginary boxes and locked them away, she’d cry until both her ocean blue eyes were burning by the salty tears, for she knew what it meant. She knew exactly what that something was: it was evil. Poppy had once read that ‘evil sits inside every woman, just waiting to bloom’ and, for a long time, she waited for the signs. The feelings of rage, loneliness, injustice, revenge, it bombarded her merciless. Then, one day, she killed: the worst part? It felt good. Poppy didn’t want to like it, but she did. So, every now and then, she would sneak out of Hogwarts and apparate to a special place that she knew no one cared about, then come back to Slytherin’s dorm as if nothing had happened. Rarely, Millie would catch her arriving on a cold night, though questioning Poppy’s strange habits had become impracticable. But killing so much could corrupt even the purest of souls - and the kindest the heart, the harder the damage. It was her sixth year and Poppy fell completely ill - convulsions and hallucinations that Madam Pomfrey couldn't understand or explain. For two weeks, every teacher interfered with their personal methods and tried to help, failing over and over again. It was Minerva and Dumbledore that, on a sudden glimpse of brilliancy, came up with a possible explanation to everything, that was, later on, proved positive. Indeed, Poppy’s mind was being manipulated by Legilimency by someone very intimate to her, possibly even from her own family. She never found out who the person was. Once the girl understood the “evil” inside her was not actually her, everything changed. It felt good, not to feel so angry all the time - there was a big weight growing inside her heart because of that. But when Poppy saw herself finally free from all that haunted her, she felt… cold. And so, so empty, like she wouldn’t be able to feel anything, ever again. She never thought she could get rid of all of her problems, but just expected something to change - and it never did. As if life just looked at her, middle fingers mode on, and screamed a big “fuck you” right at her face, as it became more unbearable over time, knowing Poppy would just break at any point. But it wasn’t until the Battle of Hogwarts until she finally did. “Professor Snape?” Her voice hesitated, as trembling as her skinny hands. “Poppy… Come in.” Snape turned around to stare at the girl, who looked so frightened for all the things that had been happening. Hogwarts was literally crumbling in pieces, she was losing friend after friend. It was just as if her PTSD had a meeting with every nightmare she'd had for the past nineteen years. “It’s been a while… since your graduation, is that right?” She couldn’t understand. For a moment, all that seemed so ridiculous and Poppy couldn’t recall what she was doing there any longer. “Did you have to talk to me, Professor?” “Right. Yes, Miss Quill. Can you follow me, please?” He interrupted his stare so they could walk towards the pensieve. “You must see something.” It was all Snape said, before resting a tired and intimidating gaze at Poppy. The girl nodded and soon leaned towards the round artefact, that suddenly took her to another scenario, as if she was in someone else’s mind. And in no time, she knew exactly what she was watching: Severus Snape entire life story, a girl named Lily, something about James Potter and Sirius Black, the prophecy about Harry Potter, the Horcruxes, Dumbledore and Snape’s role in this entire mess. As soon as the pensieve spit her out back to the harsh reality, Poppy immediately started to walk away, scared. “Why are you showing me these? I have nothing to do with that.” “I’m making you the secret keeper, Poppy, understand me? If I fail to give this message to Potter tonight, you have to show him what you just saw. This can change everything.” Poppy couldn’t stop her eyes from starting to tear up with all the panic and angst building up inside her chest. She shook her head in denial and leaned back on a wall, trying to control her breathing. “Why - why me? It could be anyone. This makes no sense.” “Because I trust you, Poppy.” “Why do you - Why would you trust me? I’m just an old student like thousands of others.” “Because I know your secret, Quill.” Snape stood up from his chair, uncrossing his arms. “I have been suspicious ever since I saw you, on your first day here, at the Sorting Hat ceremony. But I must admit, you did a good job hiding it away from everyone.” The girl suddenly had no words. She just stared at Snape, her turquoise eyes with a sad sparkle. “You knew this whole time - and why didn’t you ever talk to me about it? I was… right here.” “I had no way of protecting you, I couldn’t risk you getting hurt.” “Getting hurt? Have you even seen how shitty my entire existence has been?! 𝑵𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 has ever cared about protecting me.” The tears in her cheeks were then hidden by the colour red that burned her entire face. “No wonder my mom never told me about you. You are just a miserable, selfish liar.” “I don’t blame you for hating me, so many people do. I did things I regret in my life.” He took a few steps closer, even though they were still at a considerable distance. “But you were not one of them, Quill. You are probably the only thing I made in my entire life that turned into something worthy. And a proof of that is how I’m trusting you, out of everyone else, to keep this message. Poppy… will you do it for me?”

tl.gd/n_1srigoc

[masterofallfreaks]

Runaway!Cheryl Choni

Cheryl and Jason Blossom went missing on July 4th before their sophomore year of high school. Their upturned boat was found crashed against  the sharp rocks at the side of Sweetwater River by Dilton Doiley. Further examination found blood and hair from both twins on the side of the boat, causing the police to conclude they hit their heads when the boat capsized. It was assumed that they had both drowned as a result of the head wounds, though the bodies were not found when the river was swept.

Jason Blossom’s body was found a few days later on the side of the river, large wound on the side of his head corroborating the assumed series of events, a full autopsy was never done due to Clifford and Penelope saying they just wished to bury the one child that had been found so they could have some peace.

Cheryl Blossom’s body was never found, everyone just figured she traveled further downstream since she was lighter than her football playing brother. The Blossom family never demanded another search to try to find their daughter. Cheryl’s picture was beside Jason’s at the funeral, but only he was mourned by their parents.

Polly Cooper ran away two days after the disappearance of the Blossom twins, but no one was told about that. Alice claimed Polly got into an exclusive writing program in England, she didn’t answer any follow up questions.

Cheryl knew her father was a bad man for her entire life. She could see it in his eyes, the evil swirling inside him.

It wasn’t until she and Jason happened upon his hidden books that she knew the truth though.

Polly had found out she was pregnant, so Cheryl had promised her brother help. They waited until their parents went out for the night, then went to the west wing of the house to look for a stash of cash. They were sure their parents had it somewhere, it would help Jason and Polly start a life together.

They didn’t end up finding any money, but they did find some hidden books. It wasn’t hard to figure out that they were notes and schedules for their fathers drug business. With only a little more sleuthing, Jason had enough to be confident that he and his sister were not safe. She tried to convince him to not worry about her, to just leave town with Polly, but Jason refused. He wasn’t going to leave his sister in danger.

So they got to work devising a plan to get them both away from their parents and Polly away from hers.

Cheryl planned nearly everything, and Jason got everything in motion.

Their plan was really a simple one, they would casually move clothes and personal items out of the house over the course of a month, they’d let everyone know they were planning a boat trip along Sweetwater River on the Fourth of July before any festivities could start, they’d use a bat to cause the dents to the boat for their heads, plant hair and blood on it, crash the boat on the side of the river where it would be easily seen. From there they’d split up, Cheryl going to where Polly was imprisoned and help break her out while Jason went to deliver the drugs Cheryl had set up through FP Jones. They’d meet back at the packed car and drive as far as they could get.

Nearly everything went to plan, after they crashed the boat Cheryl went to the facility and got Polly out. When they got back to the car, however, the drugs were still there but Jason was not.

Cheryl just assumed he had gotten caught up in some last minute surprise for his reunion with Polly, so she and Polly made the drop with the drugs. Luckily Cheryl had thought of a backup plan, so she left a three of hearts playing card pinned to a tree where the car had been. She and Polly went to the Hearts Hotel and got room three to wait for him to meet them.

They waited a few days, and still nothing. It was only when they saw on the news that his body had been found in the river did Cheryl know what had really delayed her brother.

Clifford Blossom had caught his son in the forest and took him to the basement of the Whyte Wyrm. It was a short discussion, really, and thankfully his children had already given the perfect way to get him out of getting caught. So he bashed his son’s head in with a bat, and left him to drown in a bucket of water.

He paid FP to take care of the body, telling him to just dump it back in the river.

As soon as Cheryl saw that on the news, she knew they had to leave. Polly was too distraught and didn’t want to go, but Cheryl informed her that it wasn’t safe in Riverdale, especially not with Polly pregnant. Clifford was smart enough to know his daughter would stay close until her brother returned, so Cheryl was sure they didn’t have long until they would be found.

They got into the car and drive as far as possible. Polly made a good point about it being smart of them to change their appearance; Cheryl’s red hair was like a neon sign and if she was seen with the blonde Polly, it would be easy for Clifford to know them from a glance. They both became brunettes, Polly by dyeing her hair and Cheryl with a wig. Cheryl’s hair had been part of her identity her entire life, and she couldn’t give it up so easily. Their makeup and personal style changed as well, both going more dramatic and outlandish, verging on punk and goth, since they knew no one would expect that of the Polly and Cheryl that were. Cheryl even ended up getting a couple tattoos; she got a pinup girl in a cheerleading uniform on her right upper arm in honor of the Vixens she had left in Riverdale, and eventually got a small headstone with “Jay Jay” written in it on her hip.

They adapted well to their uncertainty; the money from the drug run was a cushion but neither relied on it. Cheryl has a silver tongue and was clever, whatever she couldn’t talk her way into getting, she was able to obtain through other means. Cheryl was surprised at how good she got at slight of hand.

They settled in a small town, telling everyone they were cousins, Marjorie and Elizabeth Kingston, trying to start a life after the tragic death of Elizabeth’s, or Lizzie as she was soon nicknamed, boyfriend. They used their drug money along with some they had collected on their travels to buy a small townhouse. Polly had less options for a job since her pregnancy limited her abilities, but she was given a job at the local bookstore and she actually thrived in it. Cheryl got hired to be a cheerleading coach for the highschool, quickly skyrocketing their abilities and interest in the team.

She started writing as a mode to cope with everything that had happened to her and the loss of her brother. She ended up writing a novel, all about the truth of what had happened to them. The names and setting were changed as well as some more stuff added eventually so it wasn’t a glaringly obvious telling. She knew the story of her death along with her brothers was national news so any similarity could be tied to a writer just getting inspiration from the news, plus she had seen a few short stories similar to it already.

Cheryl debated what to do with the novel after it was finished, part of her wanted to get it published, but she also knew it was a risk. Even though nearly everyone would think it’s just a retelling of something from the news, there was still a risk of Clifford figuring it out and using it to find her. She and Polly had long talks together about it, they had become the best of friends through all of this. The trauma and fear bonded them together, and even after it had calmed some, they were best friends. It truly shocked the both of them, but it made them happy.

With Polly’s blessing and support, Cheryl sent it to a publisher. She wrote under the name Cherry Bombshell, most just assumed it was a tribute to The Runaways and didn’t look further. It was published within a year and became a bestseller. She kept writing after that, finding it to be great therapy for her actually, and people seemed to want to read it.

Polly and Cheryl had a good life together. They were there for each other and only grew closer after the birth of Polly’s children. They had poured over baby name books and decided on two names together; Jason Junior and Alyssa, to pay tribute to their shared loss as well as Polly’s mother since her sister was honoured by the name she had undertaken. They raised the children together and were actually happy, though they both knew there was something missing.

For four years they lived a good life, but the missing something grew more and more until finally Polly told Cheryl she was going to go back to Riverdale to see her sister.

They had their first big argument over that since Cheryl knew it was unsafe but Polly didn’t care or think it was as dangerous as her red haired companion. They finally came to an agreement that Polly would stay home with the kids and Cheryl would go back to Riverdale to get Betty and bring her to Polly.

First she needed to know where to find Betty, but that was easy. All she had to do was make a profile with some suggestive pictures easily found on the internet, find Dilton Doiley online, pretend to be interested in guns, and then use her charm to get him to tell her everything that had happened in Riverdale over the past four years. It seemed Betty had gotten with Jughead and became the leader of the Southside Serpents along with her boyfriend. The redhead was actually impressed by that. She knew where the Serpents hung out, so she knew where to go.

Cheryl packed a duffle bag of clothes since she didn’t think it would take too long, and headed back to Riverdale.

Cheryl had gotten a hotel room on Southside before going to the Whyte Wyrm. She had on her black wig that would help to hide her face some if needed since it would be dangerous for FP to see her if he recognized her, the heavy, smudgy black eye makeup that surrounded her eyes making the green contacts pop more, fake freckles across her nose and cheeks, black lipstick with concealer around the edges of her lips to make them appear smaller, as well as a black leather jacket over a grey tank top over a black mesh shirt along with grey shorts over two pairs of black fishnet leggings and black boots. She had come to find out that having layers on was a good idea, it made it so much easier to change her appearance quickly. She had wanted to add red to her outfit, but knew it was dangerous, wearing red in Riverdale was a good way to get noticed, if not immediately be pinpointed as a Blossom.

She tried to look around for Betty but she didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself, so she went to the bar. She leaned over it while waiting for the bartender to finish up what she was doing. She checked out the pink haired woman and smiled some at what she saw. Cheryl had gotten much more comfortable with her sexuality over the years, Polly had assured her she loved Cheryl no matter what and that her happiness was all that mattered.

When the woman finally turned to Cheryl she smiled flirtatiously.

“Rum and cherry juice, please.” She told the bartender. “Also, I’m looking for my cousin Betty Cooper, she here?”

~

If you’re interested, please e-mail me at MasterOfAllFreaks@gmail.com =)    

[cilldaracailin]

A Kind Of Magic

Hello my lovelys! I am so sorry for not posting on Tumblr yesterday. I was in full writing mode and had to keep going or my train of thought would have been lost but I am back with two more posts for you this evening! :) While reading this part, I realised that I have not translated any of the Irish words in previous parts or given a phonic pronunciation of them as I did on AO3 so I apologise for that. My bad. I will go back and change that now on my previous posts. This is another one of my favourite parts from this story. It makes me smile a lot. So here are the words first: Cwtch - is Welsh and pronounced ‘kutch’ (As google told me) Camogie - Ka-mo-gee (Where gee rhymes with key) Sliotar - Shlit-her And the pictures for this part help visually with what cwtch looks like and what hurling is :) Thanks again for all the lovely Tumblr love. You are all wonderful! 

22

“This is the part where I kiss you.”

Robyn arrived home from work on Monday in a wonderful mood. The funding she had managed to secure had arrived and it was more than she thought they were going to get and was very excited about the research she had started on for rehauling the garden. Also, the new girl who had started was fantastic and an absolute God send for Robyn, taking up Valerie’s old position in the preschool room easily and the children already loved her.

“Hey Taron!” She called happily as she hung up her coat in the closet at the door. “Taron?” She called again as she walked out of the closet and closed the door. “Tar…” Robyn stopped speaking when she walked into the sitting room. “Oh no.”

Lined up along her couch were her teddy bears and sitting in his usual space in the corner was Taron with a large blue dinosaur on his knees.

“Hello Robyn.”

“Been snooping by any chance Taron?” She asked.

“I had no idea there were drawers under your bed and when I opened them, I found all of these!” He said smiling.

When Robyn had purchased her bed, she made sure it had lots of storage space underneath and she used a lot of it to keep her soft plush bears and animals, not willing to put them in her attic. Being a woman in her thirties it was not very grown-up to keep teddy bears on display but she couldn’t part with them so kept them, but kept them hidden away.

“You are like a bloody sniffer dog.” She said as she sat on the poof.

“I love them all but this dinosaur I think is my favourite.” He said giving it a squeeze.

“I don’t have a particular favourite but you might have seen a pattern here.”

“These ones?” Asked Taron as he pointed to the right side of the couch where he had all the Care Bears lined up.

“Yeah the Care Bears. The brown one, my favourite. Tenderheart Bear.” Robyn moved and lifted the large plush toy and sat down on the couch. “You probably think I am a wierdo, with all the teddy bears.” She said hiding a little behind the bear in her hands.

“Not at all and don’t make that noise at me. I don’t judge you for any of this. I told you. I love them all. I had a good time pulling them out and looking at them, wondering what story you had for each of them.”

“Well the one you are holding I won from a claw machine in Galway.”

“Seriously? This thing is fucking huge! It’s bigger than my upper body and you won it from a claw machine?”

“I am quite talented at them. The rainbow unicorn, London bear, glitter eyed bear and a few of those smaller ones I have won from the claw machines. The glitter eyed bear is actually called Freddy.”

“After Freddy Mercury?” Asked Taron as he reached over for the soft brown and black bear.

“Yeah. Remember in the 7/11 I told you about the time I had to sing the Queen song and freaked out over remembering the words?” Taron nodded at her. “Well that gospel music festival was in Galway and I won that bear and called it Freddy.”

“Do they all have names?” Asked Taron, putting the bear back.

“No, just the ones that have a memory attached to them.”

“Does this guy have a name?” He asked holding up the dinosaur.

“Nope. The festival was in Galway the next year as well and I won him too.”

“Can I name him?” Asked Taron.

“Be my guest.”

“Let me have a think.” He said as he turned the dinosaur around so he could look at him properly. “So, you also love the Care Bears?” He said.

“I know I am a nineties kid but I loved eighties cartoons and the Care Bears were my fave. I have been collecting them. I had auditioned for Wednesday Adams for the musical society and desperately wanted the part but I was so ill during the audition I couldn’t sing the song, didn’t get the part and I went to Tesco afterwards to buy my weight in chocolate and there on the shelf was this bear, True Heart Bear, one of the first original Care Bears. I was so excited and it was a bloody bargain at fifteen euro. It was going to make up for my terrible audition. She was beautiful, all rainbow coloured but when I went to pay for everything, they couldn’t sell her to me. She wasn’t supposed to be on the shelf and I questioned it and they still wouldn’t sell it to me. I even rang the head office the next day to complain and the person on the phone was so lovely but it was something to do with stock rotation and they couldn’t sell the bear. I was absolutely devastated and as you can tell. Still as bitter as ever.” Robyn laughed a little. “Seems petty, it is just a teddy bear, but at the time it meant a lot to me. Still does but I cannot get it anywhere however I do keep adding to my collection. No idea what I am going to do with them. Maybe I will build another room and put them in glass cases and display them all!” She laughed. “And now I am rambling about fucking Care Bears. Jesus Robyn shut up. Shit sorry Taron.” Robyn felt her whole face heat up with an embarrassing blush while Taron’s face lit up in a massive grin as she rambled on.

“I am calling this dinosaur ‘cwtch’” He said.

“Bless you.” Replied Robyn which made him laugh hard, Robyn not having a notion to what word Taron had just used, but she knew it was Welsh.

“You are the epiphany of cwtch.” Taron chuckled. “It’s a very special welsh word for a hug or comfort but not just any hug or kind of comfort. It’s the most important and extraordinary type of love you can feel for a person. It’s more than just a hug, it is something shared between two people, that only those two people understand and have this connection of pure trust, faith and belief. It’s what we have and it’s what I am calling this dinosaur so when you look at it, you will call him cwtch and smile and think of our time together.”

Robyn moved the care bear that was between herself and Taron and sat right beside him. “I love it. Cwtch.” She repeated. “Though I don’t need a blue fluffy and glittery dinosaur to think of our time together Taron but…” She took the dinosaur from his hands and made the sign of a cross over his blue forehead. “I now christen thee, cwtch.” She said. “And it is official.”

Taron took the plush back. “You carry a very important name now catch and you must uphold the honour that comes with such a responsibility and always be trusting, faithful and believe that one day I will be back to take you out from your home of darkness and show you the light!” Taron held the dinosaur over his head and started to sing the chorus from The Circle of Life, Robyn chiming in with the Zulu words.

Laughter filled the air as Taron lowered the dinosaur slowly to his lap, the two grinning at each other. “Can he stay on the couch? I would feel bad putting him back under the bed so soon after his christening.”

“Why not. He matches the décor.”

“So, he would have been going back in if he was a red dinosaur?” Asked Taron.

“Yep.”

Taron hit Robyn with the dinosaur, gently. “Don’t worry cwtch, I’ve got your back.” He stood up and placed the newly named animal in the corner. “I will put these back for you and I wasn’t lying when I said I like them. I like snooping around your home and I like it even more that it doesn’t seem to bother you at all.”

“I told you Taron, nothing to hide.”

“Can’t wait to see what I discover tomorrow.” He said giving her a wink before he turned and grabbed a handful of her bears and walked around the couch. “I also want to write a strongly worded letter to Tesco for you. Not very fair having the bear on the shelf but not selling it to you.”

“Thanks Taron. I mean you have connections, might sway them to dig through their store room and find one for me, especially if they get a letter from none other than Elton John.”

Robyn stood up and picked up some of the Care Bears and helped Taron to tidy all of her precious bears back under her bed.

After dinner, Taron sat lazing on the couch, his new dinosaur friend beside him while Robyn was outside routing in her garden shed for something. He had no idea what she was looking for, but quickly added the garden shed for his next place to snoop. He saw her through the glass doors closing the garden shed and she walked around the side of the house and in through the kitchen patio door.

“Right Mr Egerton. It’s time to get physical.” Taron looked over the side of the couch to Robyn who was holding two wooden sticks in one hand and two white balls in another. “We have spent way too much sitting on that couch. I think it is time I introduced you the concept of hurling.” Robyn carefully threw one of the balls his way, Taron catching it in two hands.

“Hurling?” He asked looking at the small leather ball in his hands the same size of a tennis ball.

“Yep. One of the most fast paced and some would say dangerous sports played in Ireland.” Robyn walked over to him, bouncing the ball on the end of the stick she was holding.

“So, you know I am under doctors orders to rest.” He said. “I am not allowed to play hurling.”

Robyn grinned at him. “Well come and get some fresh air with me then.” She handed him one of the sticks that was flat with a curved end. “It doesn’t take much effort.”

“You just said it was one of the most fast paced and dangerous game in Ireland.”

“When you actually play the game properly. We are just going to go and hit the sliotar, the ball, with the hurley stick into the goal.”

“Me and cwtch are just going to hang out here.”

Robyn moved to stand in front of him, her head tilted. “It’s just like cricket.”

“I am feeling kind of achy today. Think I should stay on the couch.”

“Achy my arse!” Laughed Robyn. “You had no trouble moving all those bears to the couch earlier.”

“The bears are light.”

“I will show you how to bake key lime pie tomorrow.”

“Ok so you just hit the ball like cricket?” Taron got to his feet while Robyn smirked at him. “What’s the shit eating grin for?” He asked.

“Men are easily bribed.” She said as she started to walk away from him still hopping the ball off the end of the hurley.

“You were a sporty kid, weren’t you?” He asked as she followed her out the front door, closing it behind him.

“Absolutely not. I never was sporty but dad encouraged me to play camogie, the female version of hurling. I gave it a season but then gave it up. I am not a sports person but every now and again, I head out to the football field and have a play around.”

“And now you are dragging me with you.” Taron said as he watched her still volley the small ball off the hurley stick.

“I will pay you in baking skills and to be fair you kind of owe me.”

“How?”

Robyn stopped and caught the ball in her left hand. “Do you think any other woman would have allowed you to snoop so much through her home and not say anything about all the re-arranging you have been doing?”

Taron smiled a little. “I was wondering if you were ever going to say something. I have been waiting for the backlash for moving all of your stuff around.”

“No backlash to come from this woman.” She said, walking up the drive to her old childhood come. “I have found it amusing.”

“You switched the shampoo back to way I put it.”

“I can get used to little changes, though the DVD’s will probably not stay backwards. My OCD is not liking that change at all and I am just going to get the dog, if that’s ok. She’ll happily run around the football field while we are in there.” Robyn could see a little confusion in Taron’s eyes as he followed her around the back of her old house. “And like I said you owe me.” Robyn used the hurley to roll a green tennis ball back and flick it up in the air, catching it in her left hand along side the other ball she was holding.

“Should I be worried?” Asked Taron as they walked into the back garden.

“Nope.” Answered Robyn giving her mam a wave through the kitchen window and she continued on into the house, Taron right behind her.

“And you’re back for more stories Taron?” Asked Lizzie when her daughter and guest strolled into the kitchen.

“Nah just for Pearl.” Answered Robyn, the dog running her way, tail wagging. “I am going to show Taron how to play hurling.”

“Do you want a helmet?” Robyn’s dad strolled into the kitchen when he heard his daughter mention hurling.

“A helmet?” Taron looked to Robyn, eyes wide. “I need a helmet?”

“No, you don’t and we are going now. I only wanted the dog.” She lightly pushed on Taron’s back. “You don’t need a helmet. Let’s go.”

“Don’t hit the ball at his pretty face Robyn!” Called Lizzie as her daughter rushed out of the door, pulling on Taron’s hand as he went, the dog following them.

“Maybe I should take up the offer of the helmet.” Questioned Taron as they walked back down the drive.

“We are going to be hitting the ball at the goal, not each other.” Robyn gently threw the tennis ball down the road, the dog running straight after it.

“I don’t need matching bruising on the other side of my face though.”

“Thought you said you trusted me?”

“I do.” Taron replied quickly. “It’s the wind and force of gravity that I don’t.”

“Good answer but you’ll be grand. This way.”

Robyn made her way in through a small hole in the hedge, calling Peral who came running, Taron following her up the small incline and into a football field he had no idea existed beside her house.

“Welcome to Kilcreen’s local GAA club. You have gained access through the private entrance.” She grinned, picking up the tennis ball Pearl had left at her feet and throwing it further away this time. Robyn walked over the grassy area and ducked under the bars to get onto the pitch, the dog coming back with the ball again. She dropped the white leather ball from her hands and picking up the tennis ball, threw it in the air with her left hand and with one swift swing of the hurley, her two hands holding the handle, hit the ball for the dog down the pitch.

“Thought you said you only played for one season?” Taron watched at the dog ran full speed after the ball, while Robyn used the hurley to pick up the other easily and catch it in her hands.

“I did. I just don’t have the interest in the competitiveness of it and anyone can hit a ball with a hurley.” She walked over towards the goal. “Even you.”

Taron dropped the ball she had given him and hit it gently with the hurley, taking his time. He enjoyed how she easily invited him into her world and surprised him daily with little adventures. He hit the ball a little harder, still conscious of his healing ribs. Pearl ran past him and dropped the ball for Robyn and she quickly picked it up and hit it again for the dog.

“Are you even allowed in here?” He asked as he stood beside her in the middle of the goal posts.

“Absolutely.”

“Are you just saying that?”

“No one would try to kick me out. My dad is president of the club. He has been involved with the club since he was a kid and has coached many teams. He also got the funding which helped build that clubhouse.”

“Like father like daughter!” Laughed Taron.

“Yes, you could say so.” Robyn picked up the tennis ball Pearl had left for her again. “So, I can come in whenever I want and no one can say anything. You want to try and hit the ball for her?”

“I don’t think I will be as good as you.”

“She won’t care. She just wants to run after the ball.”

“You go again so I can watch and learn.” Robyn threw the ball up, swung back the hurley and hit it hard, Pearl galloping after it. “Just like that.” Robyn looked to him. “Don’t give me that look Taron. I watched Rocketman. I know you hit that baseball on your first take and nearly every take after that.”

“Ahh shit. I forgot about that.”

“Maybe I should have compared hurling to baseball instead of cricket.”

The dog came back with the ball and dropped it at Robyn’s shoes. Using the hurley, she picked up the ball and handed it to him. “Just don’t hurt yourself. Or me.”

Taron took two long strides away from Robyn. “No guarantee I will get this first go.”

“No pressure on you to do that.”

“I don’t want to disappoint Pearl.” When Taron moved away from Robyn, the brown and white dog followed him and sat sitting patiently waiting for him to hit the ball for her.

“I’ll speak to her if you don’t hit it.” Grinned Robyn.

Chuckling, Taron pulled his phone from his pocket. “Let’s make some more memories.”

“You want me to video this?”

“Yeah, why not. I can show my mates at home.”

“Don’t you want a practise shot?” Asked Robyn as she set up his phone to video.

“I am going to take a chance on the first try. Can’t let Pearl down.”

“Ok I am recording.”

Taron threw the tennis ball up in the air, a little higher than he meant to, with a thud that echoed around the empty field, hit the tennis ball a little further than Robyn had, the dog taking to a sprint to run after it.

“Ahh yes!” Shouted Taron with excitement. “And it was a little better than yours!” He gloated doing a little dance as he walked back over to her.

“That was a tennis ball, not a sliotar. It is a lot lighter.”

“You can do better?” Asked Taron taking the phone from her and turning it so both their faces were in the frame.

“Yes, I can do better.” She replied.

Taron held his hand out towards where he had been standing. Robyn smirked at him and picked up the sliotar and walked away from him, Taron filming her the whole time. The dog came to stand at her feet with the tennis ball, Robyn took it from the dog and threw it to Taron to catch. “Go sit with Taron.” She said to the dog, who followed her instructions and sat at Taron’s feet “Stay.” She hopped the white ball off the end of the hurley. “If I hit this further than you hit the tennis ball, then you have to go and get it.”

“Sure. That’s all?”

“You want me to ask you to wear your Elton hot pants and send a picture of you doing so to Claire? And Maggie?”

“Ok so loser goes to get the ball.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought.”

It took less than five seconds for Robyn to throw the slightly heavier ball in the air and hit it very hard, the echo resonating around the empty field, as she put her whole body weight into the strike, the ball landing just past the forty five metre line on the opposite side of the pitch, much further than where Taron had hit his.

“Tennis ball?” She asked looking to Taron, who stood with his mouth slightly open but he threw her the tennis ball. From his throw, she hit it with the same force as the sliotar and the tennis ball travelled further. “Go Pearl!” She called and the dog left Taron’s side while she went to stand beside him. She took the phone from him. “Go Taron!” She laughed and he made a face for the video he was still filming and started to walk down the grass field to where Robyn had hit the ball, while she started to sing We Are the Champions as he walked away. She continued to film Taron as he picked up the ball and walked back to her.

“You still filming?” He asked throwing her the ball.

“Making memories, Taron, making memories.” She caught the ball and handed him his phone back. “You want to try and score some points now?”

“Let give it a go.” He agreed finally stopping the recording.

It was a half an hour filled with their laughs and shouts, Taron enjoying his newly learnt skill. He took it easy, making sure he didn’t push himself too hard but still celebrated each time the ball went through the posts into the goal and even more so when it flew over and between the bars.

“If you keep pulling out all of your surprises for me before Saturday Robyn, I won’t want to come back.” He said as they sat on the ground in the goals, Pearl between then, panting hard from all of her running around.

“And you have figured out my master plan.” She let out a fake cackle, Taron laughing at her.

“So, you don’t want me to come back then?” He said throwing some grass at her.

“You will always be welcomed back with open arms.”

“And baked goods?”

“If there is nothing in my fridge when you arrive, we can bake something together.”

“Like key lime pie?”

“Like key lime pie.”

“So, when do we get to make that? It was my reward for learning hurling with you.”

“Tomorrow?” She suggested. “I will have to get the ingredients in the shop.”

“Yes shopping! I love shopping.”

“We don’t need a pile of stuff Taron. Just the ingredients for the pie.” Robyn looked his way when a pile of grass landed on her arms. “And there is no surprise inside it either.” She picked the grass from her arms and threw it back at him. “It is one you could make for your mam and you won’t need a recipe for it. It’s very easy and simple.”

“You do realise that the things you are good at, like hurling, baking and playing piano are simple for you because you are good at them.”

“Well you are good at throwing grass it seems!” Robyn took some more grass from her jumper. She threw it back his way, another wade of blades landing on her once she got the others off. “Taron, you are…”

“Handsome? Funny? Incorrigible?” He asked grinning.

“That last one yes.”

“Oh, so you don’t think I am handsome then?” He got to his knees, his two hands at his sides, full of grass.

“Because I am really going to say that to your face.”

“So, you do think I am handsome?” Robyn shook her head at him, throwing the tennis ball for Pearl, who ran after it.

With the space between them, now that the dog had moved, Taron took the chance to move closer to Robyn. “Say it!”

“Nope.”

“Say it. Say ‘Taron you are handsome.’” He did the best Irish accent he could muster up, grinning as Robyn rolled her eyes at him.

“Nope.”

“You really should say it, especially if you believe it is true.”

“No, I really shouldn’t and nothing you can do will make me say it.”

“Oh really?” Taron dropped the grass he was holding onto the ground and with his two hands started to tickle Robyn, her hands immediately trying to push his away but Taron used his strength against her and continued to tickle her mercilessly. “Tell me!”

“Never!” Robyn tried to lay down, turn over and crawl away but Taron grabbed her sides and turned her over onto her back and got his hands to her stomach again, fingers tickling her skin as it came on show as she tried to move away from him.

“I won’t stop till you say it!” He laughed, enjoying how Robyn’s chuckles came from deep inside, as she squirmed under him. “Why Robyn I never knew you were so tickly.”

“Taron!” She called still laughing. “You are not going to break me!” She tried to moved his hands again but he knelt firm, nimble and soft fingertips running up and down her sides. Using her feet, Robyn started to push herself backwards, desperately trying to get away from Taron as he tickled her sympathetically, his own laughter filling the air. He snuck his hands under the elastic band of her hoodie and aimed straight for her ribs, Robyn immediately squirming more under his warm touch.

“Come on chicken, you know you want to say it!”

“Never!” Robyn tried to drag Taron’s hands by his wrists from under her jumper, but her movement only made him more determined and he put a little more vigour in the speed of the tickles. “Ok ok! Taron please stop!” She cried, wet tears starting to form at the corner of her eyes from laughing.

“Tell me you think I am handsome! Admit it!” He demanded feeling his hands slip down her stomach and she wriggled away from him. “Don’t even Robyn!” He chuckled.

Robyn moved a few inches backwards again when she felt Taron’s hands ease a little but then she felt a weight on her right leg and realised that Taron had thrown one of his legs over hers to carefully pin her down. “Taron!” She put her two hands on his chest and gave herself one more push backwards, while trying to knock him over with her other leg but her laughter suddenly stopped and she gave a shout of pain as her head hit the goalpost, Taron lifting his hands immediately from her.

“Robyn?” He asked concerned as he heard her groan a little, laying down beside her, so he was curled up protectively against her left side.

“Ugh why do I always get the raw end of these play fights.”

Taron brushed her hair from her face as he leaned over her, his leg still entwined with hers. “You ok?”

“Yeah I am ok.” She said bringing her left hand up to rub the back of her head. She felt Taron’s fingers beside hers as he massaged where she had hit her head off the wooden goal post, his hand that had moved her hair away now at the back of her head. “I hate being tickled.”

“I noticed.” He said grinning at her. “You sure you’re alright?” His hand moved back to her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. Taron felt his heart skip a beat, his stomach drop and a heat rise to his cheeks as he half held Robyn in his arms on the grass on the ground. His eyes closed when he felt Robyn’s left hand rest on his cheek and when he opened them, he didn’t even feel himself moving closer to her but her face was getting closer to his, freckles and blue eyes becoming clearer as he moved. A shaky nervous breath left his lips as Robyn’s hand moved from his cheek around to the back of his neck, her fingers twirling through his hair, her fingertips leaving electric sparks against his heated skin.

Robyn had never seen Taron’s eyes so dark, their colour changing almost completely to brown with a slight ring of green around the edge. Her right hand was still flat against his chest and she could feel how his heart beat changed quicker than a finger click. Her left hand automatically went to his cheek, her hand on skin that was blushed and warm and Robyn knew it wasn’t from their effort of trying to play some Irish sport. She inched her hand down his jaw, his growing beard soft yet coarse against her fingers. He hadn’t bothered to shave since last weekend and as her hand moved down his neck, her thumb grazed the mole at his throat and she felt him swallow as she lightly trailed her fingers across to the back of his neck and into the hair as the back of his head. Her eyes closed for a few seconds as his own hand cupped her cheek just as delicately as she had held his and when she opened her eyes, Taron’s forehead met hers and she watched as he bit his bottom lip before dipping his head a little so their noses touched.

A tennis ball dropping on Robyn’s neck, made her break the intense stare she had with Taron and her heart started to beat rapidly after it had near stopped as his perfect face moved from hers. Her hand dropped from the back of his neck , Taron moving right back from her face and she was sure the red tint that filled his face mirrored hers and just as she had been working on ignoring those bubbling sparks, within milliseconds, they were ignited again but Pearl had finally found the ball she had thrown earlier and happily dropped it back to her master, not caring that she was lying down on the grass with her new friend, breaking the tender but charged connection between herself and Taron

“Thanks Pearl.” Robyn pushed the dog’s nose from her face as she started to lick her. “Ugh Pearl no.”

Taron moved so Robyn could sit up and took his leg from hers so she wasn’t pinned down any more. They sat side by side with each other, Robyn throwing the ball for the dog again. It was the first slightly uncomfortable silence that ever fell between them, both thinking about what would have happened if the dog hadn’t of come back with her precious ball.

Taron was desperate to run his hands through his hair, stand up and shake himself off but instead made himself sit still and try to take calming breathes without Robyn knowing he was doing so, but as she sat right beside him, their shoulders touching, he could feel the one long breath she took. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who needed a minute or two to collect themselves. He tucked shaking hands under his arms but felt Robyn hook her right arm through his left elbow and the kiss she placed on his left cheek triggered the good kind of tingles on his skin.

Nervous energy ran through Robyn’s blood and she really needed to do something with her hands as she started to pull at the skin around her thumbs. Her heart was still racing and from the corner of her eyes, saw Taron slip his hands under his arms so she linked her arm with his and without thinking twice moved so she could kiss his cheek, lingering a little with her lips pressed against his soft skin before she turned back to stare in front of her.

“Taron?”

“Hmm?”

“You are easy on the eye.”

He chuckled a little. “Robyn?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re alright.” He chuckled more when she pulled her arm from his and dug her elbow gently into his left side. “You know I think you are beautiful Robyn. Inside and out.”

“Taron?”

“Yep.”

“You are handsome.”

Pearl came running back with the ball again this time dropping it beside Taron, who threw it for her again.

“We should probably head back.” Said Robyn as she looked to Taron. “It’s getting dark.” She dropped her left arm around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder, gave his waist a squeeze when he didn’t answer or look at her.  “Few more minutes?”

“Please.”

Granting Taron his wish, she gave him another little squeeze, Taron dropping his own arm around her waist and when Pearl came back, Robyn made her lay down beside her, so they could just sit together and watch as the sky changed from light blue to dark blue to black, taking their heat from each other as they night drew in cold, that slight awkward moment between them setting with the sun, their usual secure feeling coming back quickly.