#But Loki getting the tes. & going away is the problem... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poormeowmeowcollector · 4 years

Text

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 2: Verse 2

Chapter warnings: alcohol, depressive symptoms, fantastic racism, stuttering written by someone who doesn't stutter

Chapter summary: in which the Stone starts to influence

Previous chapter, AO3, next chapter

My church offers no absolutes / she tells me "worship in the bedroom" / the only heaven I'll be sent to / is when I'm alone with you

"How was the dining with the good masters?" the Tesseract asks. Loki swears it's sarcastic.

"Terrible. The ones that didn't demand for me to leave were whispering and staring, and some even pitied me… I should have never told Odin that you showed me," they sigh as they lay down, seiðr creating a glass of wine in their hand. Usually, his magic has a tickling sensation, playful and livid. But since Frigga's death, it's numb.

"You're right, I don't belong here… I don't belong anywhere…" they sigh, staring into the goblet with the red liquid. Perhaps, if he could find the strength to end it all…

"No, this is not the solution to your problems. You won't find your family there," it cuts off the train of thoughts before Loki can even process it.

"The only person I ever knew as family is there, Tesseract. Why can't I join?" they don't cry from the mention of Frigga, they haven't done it for weeks. He's just as numb as his magic now, the talks with the Tesseract and goblets of wine being the only things that can make him feel something, but they start weakening too.

"She lied to you, like Odin did. They taught you your magic, yes, but also how to hide what you feel and who you are. She is to blame for the nothingness you feel now, just like Odin is. Tell me, is that what family does?" it argues.

Loki opens their mouth, but closes it again. "No… then, what do I do?" he asks, staring at nothing.

"You live, until you find something worth dying for," it responds, voice softer than ever. He just scoffs and brings the golden goblet closer to his lips.

A blue light makes the goblet vanish before Loki can take a sip, filling them with the dark red liquid. "Hey! That's my favourite tunic, you needn't stain it!" He glares at the top right corner of his chamber.

"You have not taken it off for a week,"

"Because it's my favourite tunic,"

The stone lets a sigh. "Go take a bath, change to your second favourite tunic, try eating something that's not wine and act like you're the heir of two thrones for once or I'll teleport you to Muspelheim and let you burn,"

Loki sighs and gets up, following the shower order (especially because they've started to feel their hair going oily and gross). He had almost missed the feeling of scorching hot water on his skin, even though it started to hurt since his Jötunn form came to the surface.

When they walk back into their chamber, damp hair dripping on their second favourite tunic, they spot a tray of fruits and tea on their bed. "Thank you, Tessie," he smiles and sits beside it, his stomach begging for him to raid it.

I was born sick, but I love it

"I am not negotiating. Not until this monster is out of your house!" Gæirasson spits, small vacant eyes glaring at Loki. They don't shift their face or posture, but the room still freezes.

"Please, reconsider your words. One should not offend a prince like this," an elf notes, as if Loki cannot speak for himself.

"You're to ask for permission before you speak, Gæirasson will only get angrier with you." Odin had told them before the council.

"Please, learn how to manage your fury. You'll start a war without realising it if you keep going like that," Frigga had said countless times.

"A prince of monsters, yes. Isn't worth any more than the Giants I've sent to Hel," the outrageous man growls.

"Do not let him speak to you like this, you're worth much more than these words," the Tesseract says. Loki breaks his posture to take a deep breath, and then turns to Odin with a calm face.

"Father, may I answer to those words the way they deserve to?" they ask, never breaking the collected face. It fools Odin enough to nod a yes.

And Loki lets a grin appear, showing his fangs.

The water inside the goblets turns into ice as Loki rises from their seat, pale skin fading to reveal a blue and marked one. With his new height and black horns, he barely fits in the room, bloodshot eyes glaring at the old man enough to make him think that the thin irises would turn into daggers and stab him.

The man shivers, but not from the cold

"We are not afraid of your riches or your army and your bravado is fooling no one, G-Gærasson," they state, not breaking eye contact as their tongue strammers.

"You think you can scare me when you can barely speak, Giant?"

The negotiation table breaks in half as Loki slams his hand on it. "You have spoken enough!" they yell, summoning a new wave of shivers down the lord's body.

"You will leave this room unharmed only because of my mercy, and you know well that your words have given me every right to kill you right here and right now. You want to bring war to my house, I don't give a fuck. You know why? Because we both know very well that I can chop your soldiers to pieces without using neither my Frostbite nor seiðr and with ease. Go ahead and start a war, I have no problem to end it. The only demand the palace has is for you to pay us with the gold you owe and get lost. Or else, your house will cease to exist and will stay in history only as an example of what happens to those who anger me!" he growls, never breaking eye contact with the lord and not mouthing a single lie. Gæirasson loses his colour, stands up and leaves, panting like a dog.

"Loki, enough. You have your war, are you satisfied?" Odin asks after the door closes.

Loki's fiery eyes turn to the king.

"Satisfied? You should be the one to do this! This man offended our house and the throne greatly, they canonically deserve execution! And you made me sit there like a coward and listen to those insults!" they yell, this time out of frustration. The old Loki would never raise his tone at Odin, good thing he's gone.

Odin takes a deep breath, trying to keep themselves under control. "My son, I understand that you're going through a bad time, but there's no need to lash out like this. Would your mother like seeing you growling and yelling and cursing like a sailor?"

"You have no right to bring her up, she has nothing to do with it!" Loki's fury only gets wilder after this. But Odin does not coward away.

"I said enough! Shut your mouth and leave right now! And you'll be in charge of the war, since you can end it with such ease," he yells back, ten times louder and more intense. Loki lets the Æsir glamour return but doesn't lower themselves more as they walk away.

"You started a war, do you regret it?" the Tesseract asks as long as they're alone in a corridor. Loki grins.

"Not a bit."

Command me to be well / Amen, Amen, Amen

Loki walks around in his room, his fingers picking up each other once again. They tried to quit this habit after Frigga's death, but to no avail.

"Te-te-tesseract," he calls out, biting his tongue at the stutter. Since they've started the war, this annoying stutter has come back at full force, probably from the stress.

"You summoned me, Entropy?" it asks, more like states. Usually, Loki would find comfort only with the stone. But now, it only makes him move nervous.

"Y-y-yes. I did-I did call you to-to…" they puff out some air, closing their eyes with shame.

A hand grabs his hands, making them calm down. Loki raises their head to face an illusion of the Tesseract, trying to mimic contact.

It's a form of a body, tall and lean and glowing blue. Its eyes are looking at him with sympathy, face soft. It's the most breathtaking person Loki has ever seen.

"You can speak freely with me, don't fear," it smiles, tilting its head. Loki lets out a sigh.

"You said that, w-wh-when I'm r-ready, I-I'll agree to your-to your commands. I-I am ready," they speak, not even trying to mask up some confidence.

"I'm glad to hear. But, you'll have to acknowledge that there'll be a cost-"

"I don't care. I-I've lost ev-ev-everything already. You're th-th-the only one left," he lowers his head.

The hand moves to their face, cupping their cheek and brushing its thumb against their cheekbone, huge blue eyes staring into them. He can't help but tilt towards the hand, closing his eyes and breathing slowly.

"Perhaps you shouldn't… I've caused you enough pain, why seek out for more?" it doubts. It's almost funny, listening to doubt in a voice Loki knew to be so determined.

"I-I-I'm sure. Ple-please," they whisper, opening their eyes again. The form nods.

"Very well, Entropy," the serious and awe striking voice Loki knows returns, moments before the blue form vanishes in a light.

17 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Seiðmaðr

TITLE: Seiðmaðr

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 4/? AUTHOR: goldtrimmedspectacle ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is attacked and forgets his past. Now riddled with amnesia, Loki must decide whether to follow his mind and return his memories, or to follow his heart and find true happiness. RATING: PG13. Will go up in later chapters. NOTES/WARNINGS: Blood. Violence. Can be found on AO3.

There beneath the willow tree I learned a lot about the way of things I learned that everything (the wind, the leaves) has breath inside They were pointing ever east To see the ever-turning aeon cease Their wills were ever bent on waiting with all their might - Eurus, the Oh Hellos

CHAPTER FOUR

No-name remained silent after his vomiting spell, allowing you to rinse the bile from his hands and wipe his face down with a piece of cloth. Nor did he complain when you forced him to wash out the sour taste with a canister of water. Or when you forced him to chew a piece of white willow bark to calm his stomach.

His grimace left little to the imagination about such a bitter tasting snack.

The illusion you perceived was left for another day, when further questioning wouldn’t result in No-name’s sudden nausea and spittle.

“Bjarke, have we collected everything that is needed?”

No-name scowled as you forced another piece of bark into his hand.

The redheaded man appeared from under his horse, having just latched the last bag on to Stigr’s side, and patted the horse kindly on their rump. He smiled and scratched Stigr underneath his chin before walking towards yourself and your dark companion.

“Indeed, we have.” He wiped down his hands with a handkerchief and stuffed it back into his breast pocket. “I also have tied the bag of herbs and meat to Raoul’s saddle, which we will eat tonight – and remember what you promised me, dear fauntkin.”

Bjarke winked.

“Yes, I know. Rabbit stew. I remember quite clearly, greedy bear,” you jested and were gifted with a hearty laugh from Bjarke. His eyes still remained warily upon No-name, but at least his normal mannerisms were back and with a vengeance.

“Great. I think it best we start our journey then,” Bjarke chuckled once more and strode over to Stigr. He hopped onto the horse with ease and waited for you to do so in turn.

You greeted Raoul with a kiss to his nose and rubbed the top of his ears.

No-name trailed behind and watched as the dark horse nudged your shoulder excitedly.

“No-name, come here and meet Raoul formally,” you offered a hand to your companion, “Bjarke and I thought it best that you and I share Raoul on our way to town. He is the larger of our two horses and I am far lighter than Bjarke.”

No-name snorted at your comment.

“Besides, I am sure that we will have to share him merely for a few hours. But it is best if he becomes used to you before you suddenly start to ride him.”

You grabbed Raoul’s bridle and pulled the horse towards No-name, ensuring that if Raoul had a fit then at least he would not kick your newly healing ward.

“Hello Raoul,” No-name greeted the horse softly and you watched in bewilderment as the man and horse stared at each other for a good few seconds. It was Raoul who bent his head down first, eyes never leaving the man at your side, and he nudged No-name on his good shoulder. The man, in turn, scratched the horse’s ear and laughed, running his hands over Raoul’s mane and neck.

Your bewilderment turned to surprise.

“No-name, are you sure that you are not a horse whisperer, for I have never seen Raoul open up to anyone so quickly as he has to you.”

Raoul’s ears flicked at his name and turned back to lavish you with his affection instead, which caused you to giggle as he rubbed his face almost aggressively into your torso.

“I would not know,” your companion interrupted, “but I feel that I understand horses. Their body language is quite easy to decipher and it is common knowledge that horses prefer the ease of a person over the unease. Correct?”

You nodded and released Raoul’s bridle. Said horse nuzzled you once more and did the same to No-name.

“You are undoubtedly right, and I’m glad that you are able to understand him so well,” you smiled and walked towards Raoul side. “It makes it easier for me to get you from one destination to another,” you jested and clutched Raoul’s saddle. With a slight struggle, you pulled yourself up to lie across Raoul’s saddle and swung another leg over to straddle the leather seat.

Glancing back, you found No-name watching you with a large self-satisfied smirk. There lay the problem of your annoyance and joy, as you were glad that No-name was no longer struggling with his stomach troubles or his previous anger at the question of what words were stitched into his gloves, but, you were not exactly pleased that he had watched your struggle and merely stood there smirking.

“Oh, shut up.”

The injured man laughed and walked to the other side of Raoul, patting their body as he made his way around and hooked his hand onto the saddle. The ease he portrayed in sitting on the saddle was far too annoying, especially when he was obviously injured.

Your scowl was apparently too obvious as No-name laughed once more and slid forward so that his thighs were braced against your own, whereas his torso was kept a short distance away from your own as to prevent any unnecessary jolting of the healing bones.

“Oh hush, my dear healer. You act as if this isn’t a dream of yours,” No-name purred into your ear and settled a hand onto your hip. “A handsome man cradling you whilst riding such a magnificent beast – ”

“I will push you off. Undoubtedly. In fact, I will have Raoul buck you off. All of the above if you don’t behave.”

The man laughed once more and let his arm slide to cradle your stomach, which he used as a means of balance as Raoul began to walk and follow Stigr. No-name used this to his advantage as he leaned forward and continued talking.

“Your remarks are far too entertaining, little one. At this point, I fear that my comments will be merely to get such reactions.” His laughter did little to stifle your annoyance at such a proud and flirtatious man, but his own mischievous laughter was difficult not to join in with.

“Keep talking then,” you baited, “and I will make sure that both of your arms are broken.”

No-name chuckled once more and fell silent as the trees continued to pass by your trio of travellers. The view of nature seemed to settle your companion as he relaxed and let his hand loosen upon your stomach, eyes low and reflecting the different hues of leaves that formed a tunnel along the rocky path.

You were surprised to find a series of butterflies scattered amongst the leaves and some of the flowers that layered the forest floor. Especially as butterflies weren’t particularly well known in this region of Vanaheim.

A small handful of orange and yellow butterflies passed by Raoul calmly and one landed on No-name’s hand, causing him to flinch, and it fluttered back to its friends.

Slowing down, Bjarke and yourself watched as more butterflies flocked around the yellow flowers that dotted themselves between the decaying leaves on the sheet of grass and roots.

No-name peered over your shoulder and two yellow butterflies landed on his face and hair.

Bjarke laughed.

“It appears you have Frigga’s blessing, No-name.” The redheaded man grinned and let an orange butterfly land on his finger before it flew away once more. “Butterflies were created by the Allmother to allow everyone a little piece of happiness and to protect them from evil.”

No-name waved away the two butterflies from his being and you watched as both flew to land on a nearby bush.

A green butterfly gifted you a blessing as it landed on your leg, its wings spread wide and displaying the cat’s eye that had been painted on its wings at birth. It soon grew bored and left, leaving you and your companions to continue on your journey.

The rest of the voyage was mildly interesting with the new terrain and the waterfalls that could be discovered in the south-west regions of the forest, however by nightfall your back had grown tired and sore. You could feel No-name’s agitation and how certain bumps on the path caused him discomfort, as displayed through his cursing and uncomfortable shifting that knocked you forward ever-so-often. Therefore, you were glad when your trio arrived at the designated camp that Bjarke had marked on his map.

Raoul and Stigr allowed for you, No-name and Bjarke to disembark in the small alcove amongst the leaves and willow trees. The rushing water from a nearby river greeted your ears, along with the birds that had built themselves comfortable nests in the willow trees. It was beautiful and as you stood surrounded by the streams of sunlight and glowing bugs that resided in the south of Vanaheim, you questioned your beliefs on the legends of fae and nymphs of nature.

The shifting of hooves removed your attention from the willow leaves and churning water and allowed you to unload Raoul – ridding him of the heavy load that he carried on his back and flanks. The several mats on his side caused your knees to buckle slightly, having undone the belt keeping them in place and catching all four woven mats at once, and you tried to juggle all four whilst maintaining your own balance.

“As much as enjoy watching you falter by your own hand, this is almost embarrassing,” No-name tutted and grabbed the toppling mat from your hands. You kicked at his right heel, which he countered by side-stepping and lifting the mat onto his right shoulder with an exaggerated eye-roll.

“Unnecessary.” You grabbed the mat from his arm and pulled it back onto the three other mats juggled in your arms.

“Stubborn.”

You raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“Determined.”

No-name copied your smile.

“Foolish.”

You picked up a large cloth and tossed it at his face, laughing when the man spluttered and growled at your audacity. The manner in how he tore the fabric from his face only made you laugh louder as his eyes narrowed and teeth bared like a cat.

No-name seemed to find the humour in such action when he hurled the fabric back in your face.

The action ensued retaliation as you and the mischievous man tossed the fabric back and forth like children until you gave up, accepting that No-name had more perseverance than yourself. Evidently, after his obvious win, No-name assisted you with a few of the lighter bags, all out of the chivalry of his heart, you were sure, but stopped when you shooed him off in fear of his wounds. From thenceforth, he found himself a comfortable seat under the larger of weeping willows and proceeded to contribute by using his voice in second-hand assistance.

Revenge may be best served cold, but it was best presented on the honeyed tongue of a spiteful barmaid.

After his third remark, you tossed a nearby rock at his boot and forced him to form a fire pit away from the low-hanging branches. He seemed to frown at you when you threw a second stone at his leg, which Bjarke glared at you for, and stood to gather the nearby materials around your campsite.

It was another few minutes when all the materials had been unloaded and Bjarke began setting up the sleeping arrangement for the night, which consisted of three mats lined with thick blankets and bundled cloths in the rough shape of pillows.

He smiled when you patted his back in passing and found his hand to squeeze in a familiar gesture.

“All well, fauntkin?”

You nodded and smiled.

“All well, Bjarke.”

You continued on and joined No-name at the firepit with the sack of meat and the separate pouch of herbs. Settling on the ground next to the cursing man, you helped with scraping the wet bark off a few pieces of kindling and threw them into the base of the pit. No-name paused in his cursing and watched your technique, scanning the dagger in your hand with an odd fascination, which passed as quickly as it arrived. He continued with his chores silently.

You were quickly entranced by the procedure of cooking and pouring the meat into the frothing brew above the fire. No-name seemed fascinated by the process, which you found unusual as most men knew the basis of a simple stew, but took no further notice than asking for his assistance in the sprinkling of herbs and spices.

His eyebrows drew together and green eyes stared blankly at the leaves within the herbal pouch.

“Are you sure these are supposed to add nutrients to a meal?�� He handed the pouch over. “Surely leaves can do little in giving us energy after a long ride, such as todays.”

“Well, they are not really used as a nutrimental factor of a stew,” you glanced at the confused man with a frown. “Herbs are used to give most foods more flavour, as are spices. I am not sure whether a handful of herbs would be extremely appetising by themselves, however,” you smiled with a wavering laugh.

No-name regarded you a moment longer and nodded.

“Did you really -?” - the man glanced up - “Did you really not know that herbs are used as flavour?”

He stared at you, eyes almost glazed over completely, but then a smirk coated his features and he took a pinch of the mixed herbs – flicking it into your face.

“Of course, I did. I am not a complete imbecile,” he gloated and flicked another pinch of herbs at your face. “However, I appreciate your means in educating me.”

You tore the pouch away from him and No-name laughed once more.

You finished the meal shortly after and ensured that No-name was nowhere near the herbs from thenceforth, which seemed to entertain the man enough that he made it his mission to sneak the pouch of herbs from your person for the next half hour. And then flick them into your face. Twice more. Separately.

Bjarke lumbered over when you began to serve up the stew into three wooden bowls.

“Rabbit stew, as promised,” you winked and gifted the larger man a hefty portion of the meal. He grinned when you produced a roll of bread from the last tavern you had visited.

“A delight as always.” He ruffled your hair and sat down near the fire – the flames flickering off his beard as a source of reflection and forming a fiery explosion across his beard and hair.

No-name stuffed his face as soon as the bowl reached his palms and tore into the bread like a savage, and you tried not to stare at his change from elegance and grace to a growling, starved animal. He was through his first bowl before you had even had the chance to sit down and finish your piece of bread. Much to your chagrin, you gifted him with two more bowls before Bjarke and yourself had finished your first serving. And Bjarke took one more when No-name took his last.

You shoved another canister of water in his direction once he finished, and looked away as he gulped the water down in an almost aggressive manner.

The stew and water had seemingly done the job in ridding the man of his energy, and No-name sat calmly whilst watching the fire as you and Bjarke cleaned the bowls. His eyes had grown drowsy but there still remained a glimmer of self-awareness and caution that came with travelling through thick forestry.

It was verging on uncomfortably silent when No-name interrupted.

“One more ride and we will be back in Sandnæs.”

You stopped cleaning.

“Yes, a few more hours on horseback and we will be in Sandnæs. How do you know this?”

The man in question withdrew his gaze from the flames and stared at you, unseeing and vacant like the first time he awoke in your presence. The green was dull and came across as dusty, crusted over by time, but it was all removed like a layer of wax or bronzer had graced his pupils. His eyes fluttered and No-name cringed for a moment, hand held to his head as a flicker of pain traced his cheeks but then faded.

“I –,“ he liked his lips. “I recognise the journey we are taking. It is to Sandnæs. The town known for its metal works in Vanaheim, right?”

Bjarke collected the bowls and sat across from No-name.

“You have no recollection of your life.”

No-name nodded cautiously.

“But you remember this route?”

No-name’s resolve hardened and his posture stiffened at the beginning of Bjarke’s accusation.

“I’ll have you know – “

“This shows that your lapse in memory is only temporary, I am sure. Or at least, I am as sure as a travelling goldsmith could be.” Bjarke grinned and you nudged his arm, noticing the snide pride layered upon his lips.

“I am quite sure you will remember your past soon, no worries.”

No-name’s posture relaxed mildly and nodded stiffly.

“Thank you.”

Bjarke rose and patted the man’s shoulder in a sense of comradery, despite how No-name stiffened at the larger man’s hand on his person.

“Well, I am off to bed. Please keep the noise down, dear fauntkin,” he teased and pressed a kiss to your crown, “You are very loud when excited and I can not sleep a wink with you tittering in the background.” He ruffled your hair despite your complaints and smiled once more at No-name.

“And I wish you a good night also, No-name. Sleep well.”

“As you.”

Bjarke left with another wave and left you and No-name by the campfire as it slowly began to die. No-name had apparently become very comfortable where he sat, arm bandaged tightly to his chest and now fully-clothed and well-fed. Bjarke’s snores soon accompanied the sound of small insects and curious nocturnal creatures as his eyes drooped, allowing a sense of calm to wash over your person as your eyes echoed his own.

“My gloves.”

Your eyes opened once more.

“What about them?”

No-name rubbed his thumb over the ridges of his fingers.

“You asked about the message inside of them.”

Your sense of curiosity had awakened, but your mind still slumbered on.

With a hum, you shifted.

“Yes, but you did not like me asking.”

No-name shifted, mirroring your position like a cat, hoping to convey their trust towards another.

“Would you like to know?”

You frowned.

“But you did not tell me before.”

No-name seemed to stop and rethink his words as he rubbed his fingers together.

“Yes, but now I am tired and visibly more open for emotional discussion.” He smiled lightly. “I blame your stew.”

You laughed and nodded, yawning.

“Yes, please. I could not understand the language stitched into the cuff, but it was very fine thread and golden. So, it must mean someone of importance, or at least someone who regarded you with a level of importance, embroidered that message into your gloves as a means to convey their affection for you.”

No-name smiled softly; the sides forced down to form a weepy grin.

“Yes. It appears so.” He smiled at the floor. “The message is actually a message of departing. Left by my mother.”

“Oh,” your tongue felt heavy with sleep. “Does it have any hints to your life prior to our encounter?”

“No, sadly not.” No-name frowned and tucked his knees up, watching the fire a little longer. The silence grew as he watched the flames with eyes laden heavy with exhaustion and worry.

“Would you – Would you like to read the message to me?”

No-name lifted his head and hesitated, mouth open and forced into a defensive frown. The frown changed to a scowl then a line – borderline neutral.

“Yes. I would appreciate it.”

You nodded and watched as he withdrew the gloves from his pocket, flipping the cuff of his right-hand open. There was a glimmer of vulnerability as he began to read the message and even without his memories, you were sure that No-name felt deeply for his mother and her compassion.

“For my darling son,” his voice caught, “shall you be safe even in the most dire of consequences, and may your silver tongue never turn to lead when in danger. Whilst your soul may carry a catacomb of doubts and fears, know that my love and admiration forever remains in the light you bring, my dear neolate. I love you and wish for your return to be soon. Your dearest mother.”

The man lay his gloves back down and watched the fire a moment longer.

He spoke no more words.

“Neolate?”

No-name looked at you with a frown.

“Like a baby snake. The word neolate means baby snake.” You smiled warmly. “Your mother sees you as her hatchling. Neolate.”

A small smile grew on No-name’s face.

“So she does.”

“It’s endearing.”

The man chuckled.

“I suppose so.”

Your brain flashed back to the image of No-name with viper-like eyes. Ready to pounce and kill. Staring at you with no feeling – like you were just another piece of meat for its next meal. Angry and full of prowess.

The image vanished and was replaced by No-name smiling once more.

“Well then, what about Ormr?”

“Ormr?” The man looked at you, confusion etched in his brow.

“Yes. Ormr for snake,” you explained. “A name away from home. A nod to your life before your passing amnesia, which I am sure will clear up soon.”

The smile upon No-name’s face seemed to freeze and his eyes grew icy.

It passed once more.

“I – ” he coughed into his hand and nodded. “Yes, I quite like Ormr. I would much prefer it over the title ‘No-name’, rest assured.”

The easy-going smirk plastered on the man’s features did little to remove the passing glance of inner turmoil inside his being.

“Alright then, Ormr,” you rose and held out a hand. “I believe we should rest before we travel into town tomorrow. Best to look somewhat presentable amongst other folk rather than just the horses.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I believe the horses are the best company I could ask for.”

You grinned and pulled Ormr from the floor.

“They will be your only company if you don’t go to sleep and allow our trio to arrive back in civilisation tomorrow.”

Ormr’s laugh echoed through the willow trees and you heard a mutter of complaint come from Bjarke’s direction.

“Shush, you oaf.”

He only laughed harder.

Ormr - translation for snake, pronounced: Or-mour

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #Seiðmaðr #goldtrimmedspectacle #chapter 4

26 notes · View notes

the-elemental-sides · 6 years

Photo

The Elemental Sides: Chapter 8

Urban fantasy AU: The Sides are four spirits trapped in an amulet. When Thomas finds it and puts it on, he gains the powers of the four elements…or that’s what should have happened, but mistakes were made. Now the Sides have to coach him in their respective elements while Thomas deals with both his new powers and his ability to see into the magical realm. Not only is magic real, but there’s some pretty intimidating stuff out there, and only Thomas and the Sides have the power to stop it.

A/N: It is here! Chapter 8, my favorite number! It’s been about a year since the creation of this blog + the very first chapter of TES. Thanks so much for sticking with me. May this story be finished by 2020!

Taglist: @shinylyni, @hissesssss, @vexation-virgil, @madd-catter, @rptheturk, @nienna14, @ryuity, @asofterfan, @robanilla, @k9cat, @ab-artist, @absoluteamethyst, @a-box-o-jills, @captain-loki-xavier, @lynisnotamused, @literally-just-for-fanfics, @alix-the-skeleton, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lunareclipse-524

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

*** Thomas and Roman, spirits, faced off in the middle of his living room.

“No hitting,” warned Patton. He paused. “Okay, that’s the only rule. Go wild, kids!”

They moved at the same time. Thomas’ hand burst into flame, but it was literally sucked out of his grasp by Roman and thrown back into his face. Since it was translucent, the fire passed through him harmlessly and splashed against the far wall.

“Point to Roman,” Logan said to the book in his hands. He marked a tally on Roman’s side of the chalkboard, but it ended up sideways because he wasn’t looking at what he was doing.

“Three weeks and I haven’t gotten a single point,” groaned Thomas. “Against any of you!”

“It’s about more than just who can fire the first shot, cowboy,” said Roman. “It’s about willpower! You have to really control your powers, not just summon them.”

“Okay.” Thomas swept his hair out of his face, vaguely wondering how Virgil could stand having bangs in his eyes all the time. “Can I try again?”

“More like you can try, again. Patton, count us off!”

“Three-two-one-fight!”

This time, Thomas was a little more prepared. He waited for Roman to pitch the first fireball before catching it from midair and chucking it back. The fire flew back and forth between them before Roman caught it and extinguished the flame.

“That’s cheating!” Thomas protested.

“I think not! I was just getting bored.”

“Boo, lame.”

“I agree, point to Thomas,” said Logan, marking the board.

Thomas fist-pumped while Roman protested. “I was just playing around. Look! More fire! I can keep going.”

“Actually, you should be done for the day,” Virgil interrupted. “I don’t want Thomas to run out of energy. He promised he’d practice water today, too.”

“Aw, but we’re on a roll!”

“No, he’s right,” Thomas agreed. “I’m kind of falling behind with water.”

“No such problems with earth, because I am the best teacher,” Logan muttered into his book.

Roman turned on him. “Are not!”

“Completely am.”

“I don’t mean to brag, but Thomas is pretty darn good with my air powers, considering he’s an Earthbender,” Patton remarked. (He’d finally caught up with Avatar and had completely bought into how they handled elemental powers in the series.) “So maybe he’s just natur-air-ly talented?”

“You’re impossible.”

In the weeks since he’d fought his first shadow monster, Thomas had had a lot of adjusting to do. While he was capable of destroying the smaller shadows when he came across them on busy streets, in buildings, and even in his own apartment, the Sides continued to coach him. They didn’t want another close call like they’d had with that big one in the grocery store.

It didn’t feel like he was making much of a difference, but the Sides applauded him every time he destroyed one of the little bad-vibe blobs. They were even thrilled every time he showed that he was improving with their powers. He couldn’t see any tangible difference in the world around him, but through their encouragement Thomas did start to feel a little like he was becoming a hero.

Meanwhile, besides the Sides, life continued as usual. Thomas was working just as hard on his videos. He was hard at work on his second episode of Cartoon Therapy–which was, of course, based off Avatar.

The first time he showed up to the space they’d rented, already in his Picani garb, Joan gave him a weird look when they met him at the door. “You’re still wearing that necklace?”

Thomas looked down at the crystal. Being huge and sparkly, it was difficult not to notice and impossible to hide under a shirt. “Oh, yeah, guess I am.”

“I mean, wear whatever, dude. But I don’t get what it has to do with Picani.”

“No, you’re right, I’ll take it off.” Thomas reached for the chain. Of course he had to take the crystal off sometimes, for showering and stuff, but the Sides always hated it when they were forced back in the crystal for a while. When he wasn’t in direct contact with it, they couldn’t keep up their mind palace and all the other cool amenities they’d built inside. They had to go back to the dreamless state that Logan explained they’d existed in for the last fifteen years.

He waited a beat just to make sure he had their permission. Roman, acting emissary, appeared. He simultaneously gave Thomas a thumbs down, shrugged, and stuck his tongue out: we don’t like it, but you do what you need. Thomas tugged the crystal off and felt a little lonely when their presences disappeared from the back of his head. After that, the filming session went fine.

Between managing his YouTube career, finding time for his friends, and practicing his steadily improving magic powers on unsuspecting shadow blobs, Thomas was busier than ever. So it surprised him when Patton started egging him to take a vacation.

“Now? Really?”

“Sure, kiddo! Don’t you deserve a mental health day?”

“I’m fine,” Thomas said with a frown. “I mean, I’m holding up okay…”

“He’s right, actually,” Logan said, popping into view in Thomas’ chair (Thomas and Patton were currently in the kitchen trying to cook up some Indian food, and it was going poorly). “We’ve been discussing this. While I agree it’s important to keep your mental state functioning properly, the purpose of this vacation would also be to allow your to exercise your powers in ways you might be less familiar wi–Patton, watch out!”

“Oops!” Patton had thrown a handful of curry leaves into a pan on the stove, which was filled with oil sizzling at max heat. It immediately burst into flames.

On instinct, Patton dodged in front of Thomas and shot a blast of air at the smoking pan. It did nothing but spatter oil droplets all over the table and Logan, who was unamused. Thomas put out the fire by scooping it up in his hands and extinguishing it.

“...Oops.”

“Patton, honestly. How did you ever feed yourself?”

“I get the feeling it involved a lot of ice cream for dinner!”

“Whew.” Thomas exhaled. Fire was actually a lot less scary when you could just kind of...erase it.

“As I was saying,” Logan said in a clipped voice, “by ‘vacation,’ we’re not telling you to hang around at home in your pajamas for three days. No, what we’re suggesting is that you go learn some history....about the origin of your powers.”

“Wow! I could do that?”

“Well, of course. Where do you think we got the crystal?”

“I have no idea! Where?”

Logan paused. “...We don’t know either. Our time in the crystal left our memories, ah, spotty. Some vital details such as this have been lost. However, Virgil, who tends to remember these things best, has an inkling of where exactly he obtained it.”

“That’s right,” Virgil said, appearing–and sitting on the table, but luckily his butt was a ghost at the moment anyway. He glared at Patton. “And jeez, Pat, were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Oi’l be more careful next time!”

“Pretending I didn’t hear that. Thomas, here’s what I remember. When we, uh. When we decided to test the whole crystal thing, we knew we needed a good one, obviously. We got our powers and then we started searching around for something, some kind of gem, that matched the parameters Logan laid out.”

“Robust. Undamaged. Prismatic. Sensitive to magic—by that, we mean whether it reacted when placed in certain stress simulations involving the shadows.”

“Uh, yeah. So I found a good one in this one super goth back-alley jewelry store–”

Thomas gasped. “Borgin and Burkes?!”

“No? I don’t know what that is? Look, anyway, I found a good one, s–uhh, I stole it–”

“WHAT”

“–and brought it back to everyone else.”

“You STOLE it?” Patton cried. “But that’s totally against why we wanted it in the first place! Fighting evil! Remember?”

“I know. But the alternative worried me more.”

“Well, I’m not really happy about that, sport, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. Maybe they won the lottery in the last fifteen years and got their money back…?”

“Virgil, do you recall the name and location of this place?” Logan asked.

“Can’t say I do. Well–I think it was near Florida. I remember driving for a while during the night. There was a lot of fog….I could sort of tune into it with my powers, so I could sense the surrounding area. Something was near me, like a big, dark cold spot. It might’ve been a shadow, but bigger than one I’ve ever seen.” He shuddered. “I had to get away from it, so I turned off the highway, drove for a while, stopped at a gas station, and...there it was.”

“Well, that’s vague,” Thomas mused.

“Do you think that we’d be able to recreate your path if Thomas were to search for it?”

“Uh….maybe? It’s possible?”

“That’s sufficient enough for me,” Logan declared. “All right, Thomas, the parameters of your vacation are this. You are to find the location and source of this crystal and interrogate the owners of the establishment for information.”

“Information like….”

“Well, whether there’s a way to expedite your learning process. Whether we can get out of this crystal. Perhaps we can find a way for all four of us to assume solid form without damaging you.”

“And this involves a lot of driving…” Thomas said to himself. “So, if this is really important to you guys, it sounds like we’re going on a–”

“ROAD TRIP!” Patton hollered, throwing up his arms and upturning the pan on the stove, which had been steadily burning their dinner to a crisp the entire time. Oil, curry, chicken, and the whole mess slopped onto the stove and promptly exploded in a shower of hot oil.

“...road trip.”

“PATTON!”

***

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders��sides au #chapter #the elemental sides

35 notes · View notes

5evahbeyou · 5 years

Text

THE BIG FOUR:AND THE MISSING GEM (BOOK 1)

Chapter 9: Continuation

Rapunzel’s POV:

The weeks became days, and days became hours away, the upcoming dragon race was soon to start and I was very eager to see Hiccup and Merida up in the air. All of us hadn’t seen each other lately because of the extra school work we needed to take up and to finish other works that the Professor’s gave us. It wasn’t much of a hassle, but it was tiring to even do much per day. As I got out of my house, the Sphinx. Eugene and Jack was already waiting for me outside, a blush crept on to my face seeing Eugene. They turned around to the sound of the door closing, Jack gave me a smirk but i simply rolled my eyes at the white headed boy. “Jack, Eugene.” I said, giving them a smile and a nod. “Come on Punzie, the race is about to start, you don’t want to miss it.” Jack said, turning his whole body and started running. “Race you there! Slowpoke is a rotten egg!” He shouted, I gave out a giggle, thankfully I braided my hair today. I looked at Eugene, “See you, slowpoke.” I said and quickly ran to Jack’s direction. I heard Eugene scream my name but I couldn’t stop now. I didn’t want to be the rotten egg this time!

As I reached the stadium, Jack had reserved the perfect sit for the three of us. “Wow, so Eugene is the rotten Egg.Who knew?” Jack said, smiling at me. I sat beside him, he handed me a drink to quench my thirst which I took with a smile. “That wasn’t fair! You guys went earlier than me!” Eugene said, having the struggle to breathe normally. Me and Jack just laughed at him, but I quickly scootched a little for him to take a sit right next to me. Jack also handed him a drink. “Ahhh, nothing like a cold water to fix myself up.” He said and gave me his signature wink. I just rolled my eyes at him while I saw Jack trying to conceal his chuckles. Their was a trumpet and a loud booming sound, it seemed the race was about to start. Professor Gobber himself was seen on the other side of the stadium. “First things first, please don’t push one another since you can fall and die to a horrible death.” He explained, which is fairly true. I mean, I think the fall could be at least 14 feet high. “With that, the Annual Dragon Racing is finally here! Please give the racers the loudest cheer you got!!!” Gobber shouted through his makeshift horn. It echoed throughout the stadium so that everyone could hear him. “I present to you, the racers of the house of Hydra!” Gobber boomed, The racers flung up into the sky one by one and settled on air. “Starting from the left, Snotlout Jorgenson along with his trusty dragon Hookfang!” “ Snotlout, Snotlout, Snotlout! Oi! Oi! Oi!” He screamed, the Hydra roared his name. “Next to him, is the pranksters given by Loki himself’ The twins, Tuffnut and Ruffnut, along with their two-headed dragon, Barf and Belch!” “Give us that Trophy!!!!” “Aughh!!” Both of the twins shouted in sync. I giggled at their shout, since it gave a boost of cheers from the Hydra’s uproar. “Any moment now, the Hydra’s will tore their throat.” I said, but Jack and Eugene was screaming their name. When they finished, I look at them with a raised eyebrow. “What? They’re in our house!” Jack and Eugene said and screamed again with the rest of the Hydra.

“I present to you, the racers of the house of Phoenix!” The uproar of the Phoenix filled the Stadium, I for one was screaming on top of my lungs, “ Go get ‘em Merida!” I shouted, Jack and Eugene also shouted along by my side. The racers flung high and was now floating on air. People staired in awe, as the two racers had the whole stadium’s attention. “Starting on the Right, the person with a feisty red hair is none other than Merida Dunbroch, along with her new tamed dragon, Kryton!” Everyone shouted and so does me, “I feel like I might faint any moment because of all the shouting.” Jack said, drinking his water almost half empty. “Next to her, is the excellent student of this Academy, Astrid Hofferson along with her intelligent dragon, Stormfly!” Astrid and Merida looked at each other and shouted, “For the house of Phoenix!” Everyone in Phoenix shouted, it felt like it was the roar of a lion for some reason. “For a moment, I thought I heard the lion itself.” Eugene said, “Me too.” I said and laughed along with him. I heard Jack screamed, “Go red-head!” Merida looked at us and quickly gave a wave. “And finally, I present to you, the racers of the house of Sphinx!” Gobber shouted, The Sphinx shouted louder, me also doing my part of the screaming. “You got this Hiccup!” I shouted, “Yeah! Break another leg!” Jack shouted, I gave him a look before giving him a sharp nudge on the side with my elbow. Jack only gave a quick laugh before turning his head to the racers again. The racers got up so high, Hiccup’s dragon did a full on circle before settling down on the air. “Starting from the Left, I give you the smartest viking, Fishlegs Ingerman along with his beloved dragon, Meatlug!” “We got this girl!” Fishlegs shouted, the dragon seemed enthusiastic also. “Wait, that’s a girl?” Jack asked, “Yes Jack, stop showing dumb.” I said, along with some giggles. “Give me five!” Eugene said and I obliged.

Jack’s POV:

“Hey stop teaming up on me!” I said, as both of them started to laugh more. I shook my head at the two and looked up once more. “To his side is the viking who introduced dragons, Hiccup Haddock III along with his dragon, the offspring of lighning and death itself, Toothless!” Hiccup gave a battle cry, along with Toothless giving a shot of his blue flame.The Sphinx roared more as Hiccup did. “Wow what a battle roar!” I said, giving him a slow clap.” Hiccup waved at the three of us before looking up again. “ The goal is to catch as many white sheep as you can. Each is worth 1 point. But watch out! You only want the sheep with targets painted on their wool. Plain sheep are out of bounds. I just hope there’s no dragon eating the sheeps.” Gobber said, the riders gave a laugh while looking at Snotlout. “Hear than Snottie?” Astrid shouted, “Shut up Astrid!” Snotlout retorted. “Each race has a single black sheep that is worth 10 points. The black sheep get launched by a catapult during the last lap and must be caught midair. When is the last lap? That changes every game-just listen for the game horn! Riders drop every sheep they've caught into their specialized game baskets. There is an individual winning trophy, and a house trophy. Who ever gets the highest house points wins! While who ever gets the highest points wins and gets the individual trophy! Oh and in this racing, there are no rules!” Gobber shouted and everyone shouted in joy. “That’s what I call a real competition!” I shouted, “Go Hiccup and Merida!” Punzie shouted on top of her lungs. “May the odds be on yours!” Gobber said, and as he blew the horn, it gave out a sound signaling the start of the game.

Nobody's POV:

The dragons zoomed all around the stadium, and even went off of the area to get the sheeps that are placed all around the Academy. The numbers increased as each baskets are slowly filled with white sheeps.”Give me that, I will win this race!” “We are both on the same team muttonhead!” The twins argued, and because of that, Snotlout had a chance to snatch the sheep off of their grip. “See you later losers!” Snotlout shouted, but not longer later, Hiccup got the sheep and dropped it on his basket. "Hey no fair!" "Sorry Snotlout!" Hiccup shouted and zoomed away. Jack and Punzie watched in eagerness, as the time ticks, the basket gets filled more and more. "Go Merida!! You can do this!" Punzie shouted, She got three sheeps, the two that she was carrying while the other was carried by her dragon. "No fair, her dragon is bigger than any of us!" Snotlout shouted, Hookfang seemed irritated and plummet down fast. "Okay sorry Hookfang!!" Snotlout shouted, Everyone in the stadium laughed at how Snotlout's dragon was a handful. Snotlout zoomed over to Merida, but Kryton had a thing or two to protect itself and Merida. “Now Kryton!” Merida shouted, Kryton twirled, whipping it’s tail to Snotlout, causing him to fall off of Hookfang. Everybody gasped, as Snotlout screaming, but suddenly Snotlout was catched by none other than Kryton. “Sor’y te do tha’.” Merida shouted, giving Snotlout a grin. “You’re lucky I like pretty girls.” Snotlout shouted, as he dangles at the grasp of Kryton. Merida swooped down to drop the sheeps. Kryton also dropped the ship it was holding and flung Snotlout up, which Hookfang catched.”Go Merida! You got this scottie!” Jack shouted, cheering for her louder and louder, but the other Hydra’s were looking at him. "You got this Hydra!!" Eugene shouted, then Jack also did causing a massive roar from the other Hydra.

“Hey, thanks Eugene.” “No problem, lover boy.” Eugene smirked, which Jack rolled his eyes at his teasing. Punzie was shocked by the sudden outburst of the information, but tried not hearing anything. She knew something was behind does stares. "We are finally on the last lap, here comes the black sheep!" Gobber announced, and instantly, the Black sheep was flunged way up high. The racers moved fast to get the sheep. Fishlegs had it but Astrid stole it jumping over them and landing on her dragon swiftly." Thanks for the sheep Fishlegs!" Fishlegs let out a frustrated sigh. Astrid almost dropped it on her basket, when the twins took it. "Hey, that's my sheep!" "Not anymore!" Ruffnut shouted, Barf and Belch made a powerful boom so that the others couldn't see them. "We are going to win!" Tuffnut shouted, but Hiccup got it out of their hands. "I'll take that, thank you!" The Sphinx roared and cheered for Hiccup. Hiccup got cornered by Merida and Astrid, "Hey ladies, want this sheep?" Merida signaled her dragon to move, because of her big dragon, it was difficult to maneuver her dragon. "Oops, too slow red-head!" Hiccup shouted, Merida let out a groan, "Yer goin' te get it dragon breath!" Merida shouted. Astrid was a few inches behind her, and when she finally got reached Hiccup, Toothless went down along with Hiccup. Hiccup was about to throw the Sheep but Astrid took it, despite the almost thrilling scene, Hiccup jumped off of his dragon and got the Sheep back. He was almost half way to plummet the ground. Everyone yelped at what seemed to be Hiccup falling. But suddenly, he spread out his wings and flew, well more like glided towards his basket. As he glide down, he finally got a chance to throw it in his basket and got on Toothless before crashing down. The Sphinx roared with glee. "You almost got us scared for a minute Hiccup!" Jack shouted feeling the excitement and adrenaline. "You go dragon breath!" Punzie teased. "And the winner of the House trophy with number of 38 points! The Hydra!" Gobber announced, the Sphinx gave a mighty roar that almost shooked everyone. The Phoenix took second place while the Sphinx was on third. Although the Hydra won the House trophy, There was someone who won on the other house. "And our first, dragon champion is, Hiccup Haddock III of Sphinx with a wooping 25 points!!" Everyone cheered but the Sphinx had the uproar of the win. Toothless Twirled before landing down. The list of who got the scores started from Hiccup, Astrid, Tuffnut, Merida, Snotlout, and lastly, Meatlug. The house team starting from the winner is the Hydra, Phoenix, and Sphinx.

The three got down as fast as they can and waited for the others to go down from the air. "That was so cool Hiccup! You got us riled up!" Punzie shouted, giving him a big hug. "Nice one Viking, you got us off of our sit." Jack said, giving him a fist bump. "Thanks you guys." Hiccup said, His face including Toothless had a face paint. The color black and red. Toothless rubbed himself to Hiccup which Hiccup began to baby talk Toothless. "Yes you did boy, you did great!" Jack, Punzie and Eugene gave a laugh because of his action. Merida finally landed and got off of Kryton. "Nicely done Kryton, ye did great!" She said, rubbing on Kryton's chin which the dragon nuzzled into her more."Not bad Merida, you did pretty good for your first race." Astrid said, getting off of her dragon. "Thanks, et was nothin'. Kryton did all te work." She said patting Kryton's body. "Are you kidding? You beat Snotlout!" "Astrid is right, the speed of a Scauldron and a Monstrous Nightmare are different." Hiccup explained, the other riders got down as well, huddling up with the rest. "The Monstrous Nightmare has a speed of 16 while a Scauldron can only fly up to 6 of speed." Fishlegs said, as he stand beside Hiccup. "Pretty cool for a newbie, right Tuffnut?" Ruffnut said, looking eager. "Oh yeah! And when you signaled your dragon to push Snotlout of the way? Classic move!" Tuffnut said and raised his hand for a high five. Merida let out a laugh and gave the twins the high five they waited for. "Still can't believe I've been beaten." Snotlout said, crossing his arms at Merida. "Well, ye always have a next time lass." Merida said, winking at Snotlout. "Woah, hey princess, don't you wink at me. As much as I love it, I still am mad." Snotlout half flirtatiously said. Which everyone laughed at. Merida went near to Snotlout,” I like yer competitive side, lass.” Merida said, as she pushed down Snotlout’s helmet so that he couldn’t see.” “Wow, I think I’m getting the feeling she likes me.” Snoutlout said, his pride starting to rise. Astrid and Merida both laughed, “In your dreams snottie!” Astrid laughed, causing Snotlout to glare at her. "Come on now, change up!" Gobber said shooing everyone to go back to the dorms.

"Now what?" Merida asked, her face paint, blue and red, almost mixing together because of her smudging it a lot. "Stop wiping your face, you're getting all the paint spread!" Jack said, he got out a cloth and wiped some of the excess paint. Jack tried to remove it, but keep on slowing down when he sees how he’s close to Merida’s face. "You do it, I feel like a Nanny." Jack said, but got stopped midway. "Jack, ar' ye blind o' ye fergettin' I can' see?" Merida said, Jack let out a sigh and wiped away the paint. Punzie and Eugene decided to get some food for Merida, While Hiccup went to the Sphinx dorm to change. Jack dragged Merida to a lake near the big tree on the bigger meadow. There, he helped removed the paint by deeping the cloth to the water. “Ahk! It’s cold!” “Get used to it wigman.” Jack joked, wiping the paint. When he finally removed the paint on the right eye, Merida opened her eyes slowly, seeing how they’re both near at each other. But Merida didn’t budge, it felt nomral for her and Jack. “Ye know Jack. I think yer a sweetheart.” Merida started, Jack got taken aback by Merida said, finally wiping the last paint off of her left eye.”Sometimes, you’re a monster.” Jack said with a smirk, Merida galred and was about to tackle him. Jack manouvered himself and got away from Merida. “Still slow! You got to lay off of the pie!” Jack said, he heard Merida yelling his name as Merida tried to catch up to him. The day was normal, well, for now.

»»————-　★　————-«« »»————-　★　————-««

I finally had the chance to update this! College has been keeping me busy with a lot of production especially in video making. (I’m taking up Media).

Oh and check out my Wattpad story, “Harsh Life, in Twisted Love.” It’s a Rise of The Brave Tangled Dragon Fan Fic, along with an OC a friend and I made.

However, the story isn’t half-way to the story. And Rapunzel in this story is with the cool kids. So I hope you guys read it! I’ll see you guys soon!

Book 1: CHAPTERS: 1 - 2 - 3(1) - 3(2) - 4(1) - 4(2) - 5(1) - 5(2) - 6(1) - 6(2) - 7(1) -7(2) - 8(1) - 8(2) - 9(1)

2 notes · View notes

cuddleslutloki · 6 years

Text

stucky fic i’m abandoning under the cut bc i’m so far into thorki rn and writing loki was my fav part of this story woops lol. i want this out of my WIP folder, staring at me as if to ask “when father, when will i be complete?”

never.

enjoy!

Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to shake so many hands. The conference only happened once every three years, and he hadn’t been able to dodge it this time. Natasha had laughed at him when he read the invitation.

One Captain Steven G. Rogers has been invited and by then it was too late. Coulson gave him the ‘that’s too bad’ smile and sent him off.

Fifteen countries all bound together by secret treaties and trade agreements, all here to celebrate peace and prosperity and the future they were creating. Steve would have had a much easier time focusing on that goal if his translator wasn’t driving him fucking insane.

Sergeant James B ‘call me Bucky’ Barnes was Steve’s type on legs. He was an accomplished soldier, a great spy as far as Steve could weedle information from his contacts. He also spoke more than a dozen languages.

And he clearly had no idea that Steve was fluent in French.

If he knew, he wouldn’t have been saying any of the wonderful, distracting things he’d been saying all damn day. It started with a sly remark he made to Natasha on the phone earlier. Casually, in the middle of lunch, he was speaking with her in English and he accused her of this being a set up.

Then he switched to French halfway through the sentence. “You could’ve warned me, y’know, sa bouche.”

Steve stopped for a moment, then just listened as Bucky kept going. And going. And going.

It started with Steve’s mouth, then went to his shoulders, which apparently Bucky thought were perfect for holding onto when the headboard started smacking against the wall.

Steve wasn’t a spy, not by any shot, but he could keep a straight face. Natasha must have reminded him about the concept of professionalism, even if she neglected to mention that Steve would understand what he was saying, because after about three full sentences of Bucky’s lust-hazed complaining he went back to talking about the conference. They didn’t have to do much, just listen to speeches and eat good food, but there were plenty of people who would want to speak with Steve.

Plans for this and that, where do you think so-and-so is going, why do you think this happened, and what do we do about this person or that person. It was the same conversation over and over on repeat with thirty people. Bucky shared his exasperation, Steve could tell that much.

“Why did I even bother with fluency when I’m just using the same ten words in each damn language?” He groused.

Steve laughed and grabbed them both champagne from a passing tray. “At this rate I could probably have these conversations myself.”

Bucky laughed and downed his entire glass. Steve took his time with his, since Bucky seemed to have such a problem with his mouth. He licked an errant drop of champagne off of his lower lip and barely kept himself from smiling when Bucky cussed.

“Putain de merde, ce soir doit se terminer.” Bucky kept a polite face as he muttered to himself.

Steve decided to be merciful. “La fête va terminer en trente minutes, je crois.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and his shoulders stiffened. “Tu… peux me comprendre.”

Steve nodded, a smirk on his lips as he finished his champagne. “Ouais, je te comprends.”

Bucky swallowed roughly and grabbed another flute of champagne. Steve laughed and Bucky looked at him as he drank this glass even faster than the first. He watched Steve for a moment, then his unease melted away.

“Toute la journée t’as compris?” Bucky asked, his voice not so tight as it was a moment ago.

Steve nodded and smiled at him, looking at him through his eyelashes. “Oui, j’ai entendu et compris tout.”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Oh, incredible. I’m going to kill Natasha.”

“It’s not her fault, I’m the one who didn’t say anything.” Steve smiled at a passing ambassador, then nodded to another. He didn’t look at Bucky as he spoke. “T’as dit quelque chose de ma bouche pendant l’appel avec Natasha.”

Bucky regarded him for a moment, then licked his lips and stepped closer to Steve and whispered into his ear. “Ouais, et tu vas faire quoi?”

Steve turned his head and let his lips brush Bucky’s ear. “On va voir.”

They took a short step away from one another, facing each other fully now. Bucky smiled to someone over Steve’s shoulder and didn’t meet his eyes. “Nous ne pouvons pas quitter tôt, c’est pas joli.”

Steve scanned the crowd until he found the man he was looking for. Long, black hair was slicked back and a dark green and black suit clung to his frame. He was as elegant a killer as there was, and he was the host tonight.

“Allons.” Steve started walking before Bucky could reply.

He acknowledged people in the crowd as they walked, but didn’t stop long enough to give anyone a chance to speak. Loki’s eyes brightened as Steve approached.

“Captain Rogers, you look positively edible tonight.” Loki shook his hand firmly, eyes sharp as he glanced from Steve to Bucky beside him. “How can I be of assistance?”

Steve pulled Loki’s hand up for a kiss, smiling against the knuckles. Loki raised an eyebrow. It was that kind of favor.

“I need to leave, but I can’t be signed out until everyone else is. Can you make that happen?” Steve let go of Loki’s slender hand and kept eye contact.

After looking between them, Loki chuckled. “Steven, you’re laughably predictable. What do I get in exchange for forging the attendance logs of an international event with private security? Logs that need your fingerprint to sign out.”

Steve looked off toward one of the exits, the best one if he wanted to leave without drawing attention to them. “I’ll owe you a favor.”

Loki hummed and pursed his lips. “Why would I need a favor from you?”

“It can be a favor for Thor.” Steve kept his voice low, mindful of any who would be listening.

Loki straightened as he stood and if Steve didn’t know him, he might not have caught the flash of surprise that preceded Loki’s wide smile. His voice was barely loud enough to hear. “Does this mean that you want to help? Even after what Stark said?”

Steve didn’t say anything, just held Loki’s eyes. Loki was good at reading people. It only took a few seconds for him to have his answer.

“Alright, Steven. You and your interpreter will be signed out at 9:37 and 9:38 respectively. Plenty of time to have said goodbyes and paid proper respects to everyone here.” Loki slipped in close enough that Steve could smell the rose oil in his hair. “I’ll tell Thor to call you. He’ll be pleased to hear you’ve picked a side, even if you’re doing it under pretense.”

Too good at reading people. Steve shook Loki’s hand again. “Thank you.”

Bucky followed Steve through the crowd as they made their way to the exit next to the bathrooms. No one was looking as they went through the door. They walked quickly to the parking structure and Steve tossed Bucky the keys.

Once inside, Bucky wasted no time tearing out of the space and speeding into the city. “You know how to pick your friends, don’t you, pal?”

Steve smiled. “Well, I’m not picking anyone you didn’t already pick, right?”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it. “That’s some network of contacts you must have. How much do you know?”

“I’m not talking shop right now. But I know you’re not here to be a translator, and I’m not here to be your mark tonight.” Steve reached into his pocket and turned his phone off, then took the battery out.

Bucky grinned and shook his head as he took a turn a little too hard. “Natasha said I’d like you.”

“Yeah, I think she’s why I ended up here.” Steve mused, fingers twitching as they got closer to their hotel. “You really didn’t know I speak French?”

Bucky shook his head. “I just got the assignment yesterday, and Natasha wouldn’t tell me anything. I couldn’t get any information on you anywhere else. I almost thought it was a prank.”

“She told me who you were four days ago.” Steve chuckled and shook his head. “It still could be a prank.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think so. She put us together for a reason.” Bucky turned into the hotel lot and parked by one of the side entrances.

Steve considered it. “It’s treason.”

Bucky nodded and finally cut the engine off. “It’s the right thing to do. Didn’t you say no shop talk?”

“You're right, no shop, let's go.” Steve all but dragged Bucky through the hotel, both of them reasonably composed in the elevator.

That lasted right until the door was closed, then Steve slammed Bucky into the door and sank his teeth into Bucky’s neck. The groan he got in return had his cock filling quickly, swelling and pressing against the fly of his slacks. He felt too hot in the confines of his suit, with Bucky’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and Bucky’s breath ghosting across his ear.

#baylen fic

7 notes · View notes

a-splash-of-stucky · 7 years

Text

I Know This Game | One

Pairings: Loki x Foster!Reader || Bucky x Foster!Reader

Summary: The past, the present, an email, a phone call and some reminiscing

Warnings: Language, discussion of mental problems.

Notes: A re-post. Fic inspired by ‘Eyes Closed’ by Halsey.

IKTG Masterlist

When you step into the elevator, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and let out a resigned sigh. It’s obvious that you’ve been crying. In fact, ‘crying’ is probably putting things nicely; it would be more accurate to say that you look like you’ve been dragged through hell and back. Your eyes are puffy, there are flecks of mascara on your cheeks, your red nose puts Rudolph to shame, and let’s not even get started on your hair. You fix yourself up as best as you can with the concealer and wet wipes you keep in your purse, but the elevator arrives at your floor before you can do much.

You’ve only been to Pepper’s office once before. A distant part of your brain marvels at how sharply contrasted this visit is to your last one. The emotions, the situation, the reason — everything is different, but ironically, none of this is reflected physically. The office itself remains unchanged. It’s walls are still tastefully decorated with gorgeous pieces of abstract art, and the furniture exudes business professionalism, without looking bland and boring. You stride over to her desk, wanting to get this visit over and done with as soon as possible.

Pepper is hunched over a Stark tablet, brow deeply furrowed in concentration. You rap sharply on the frosted glass door and her head whips up.

“Ah, Y/N,” Pepper says, setting her tablet aside and standing up to greet you. The smile she puts on seems a little forced around the edges. “Please, have a seat,” she urges, gesturing towards the chair in front of her desk. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?”

You shake your head as you sink into the — surprisingly comfortable — black swivel chair. Of course, this being Stark Industries and all, you expect Tony to settle for nothing less. “I’d rather just get this over with, Pepper,”, you say, your voice betraying how exhausted you really feel.

She nods curtly, immediately stepping into business mode. “Certainly, Y/N, Tony has…notified me of your intentions. I’ve drawn up the necessary paperwork, but I’d like to have a discussion with you, if that’s okay,”.

You nod your assent. This you can deal with. Briskness, order and streamlined efficiency. It’s a kind of stability that you crave after the mess of a day you’ve just had. Secretly, you’re thankful and a little awed that Pepper is able to remain so professional with you, despite the surprisingly close relationship the two of you have developed over the past couple of years.

“Sure Pepper, let’s talk,” you murmur, scooting your chair a little closer to the table.

Pepper laces her fingers together and rests her chin on top of them, looking at you with a completely neutral gaze. She clears her throat, “Well, the only thing I really have to ask is: are you sure? You’ve been such a wonderful asset to the team, that I’d hate to see you go. Obviously, I understand that working in such an environment given the…events that have happened would be difficult, to say the least, but—I just don’t want you to make any spur of the moment decisions that you might regret, here,”.

You hesitate before answering, wanting to give her your most truthful response. “I understand your concern, I really do,” you say slowly, “It’s been amazing working with the team. And, we both know…that at some point, it stopped becoming work and it just became life, right? But I—I’m hurt, Pepper. More than you can ever imagine,”. Unexpectedly, tears burn behind your eyelids and you roughly scrub the back of your hand across your eyes to brush them away. You take a shuddery breath, willing yourself to keep it together for a few minutes more.

“I can’t go back there, Pepper, I can’t. I—I don’t think I can face them, any of them, knowing what they did,” you say quietly.

She nods in sympathy. “Alright, Y/N, it seems like you’ve made your mind up. As per your contract, you’ll be given three months salary in advance, just to have something to tide you over whilst you find your footing again. I’ve written a letter of recommendation for you, as well,”. Pepper hesitates, chewing her bottom lip before continuing, “If — and I understand that this is a big if — you should ever, ever change your mind…I won’t hesitate to re-employ you. Perhaps not with the team, per se, but maybe within Stark industries itself?”

You smile gratefully, amazed that this woman has such an enormous capacity for generosity. “Thank you, Pepper. I’ll certainly keep that offer in mind,”. She nods brusquely in acknowledgement of your thanks. Then, she sets a pen and a stack of papers in front of you, the places requiring your signature marked with blue page flags. When you go to pick up the pen, you discover that your hand is trembling slightly.

After signing where you need to, you hand everything back to her. As she arranges the papers into an orderly pile at the edge of her desk, Pepper asks, “Do you have any idea what you’re going to do after this?”

You shrug, “I’d like to try and set up my own practice. What with my time serving in the military, plus my time with the team, I should think that I have enough experience for that,”.

“That’s wonderful, Y/N. I wish you all the best,”. There’s a note of wistful finality in her tone that you take as your cue to leave. The two of you stand, and Pepper walks you to the door.

“Thank you, Ms Potts, for all that you’ve done for me,”, you say sincerely, holding your hand out for her to shake.

Pepper smiles, “No. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us. I wish we could’ve parted on better terms, but—,”.

You shake your head, indicating that you’d rather not discuss the situation, and she wisely chooses to drop the subject. “Well — and I am being serious here — if you ever need anything, any help whatsoever, my door is always open,”.

You’re overcome with a sudden burst of emotion, and, without thinking you wrap your arms around her in a brief hug. “Thank you, Pepper,”, you whisper fiercely.

You do your best to sob as silently as you can when you dash out of her office.

—————————— Six Months Later ——————————

Nick Fury levels you with a wholly unamused look. Not for the first time, you’re quite impressed by how expressive he manages to be with only one good eye. “I recognise that you have given me advice on the issue, Dr Foster, but given that it’s some stupid-ass advice, I’ve elected to ignore it,” he says curtly.

You sigh inwardly, but school your face to remain a mask of calm. Two more minutes, you tell yourself, Just get through that and the weekend will be yours.

“Well, Nick, you won’t know it until you try it,” you say, as gently as possible so as to not aggravate him further. “Give meditation a go. I can recommend some teachers or sites, if you’d like, and we’ll discuss this issue further in our session next week, alright?”.

He grunts. It’s the closest you’re going to get to a yes, at this point, so you decide to not push any anymore.

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask or mention before we end?” you ask, rounding yet another session off in the way you always do.

Nick shakes his head. “Nah,” he drawls, already moving to get out of his chair.

“Okay then, I look forward to seeing you next week,”. You force your facial muscles to contort into a smile, despite the fact that it’s the last thing you can be bothered to do.

“You have a good weekend, doc,” he calls, as he saunters to the door, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure look like you could use one,”.

You laugh wearily as he leaves the room. “I’ll take your advice, Mr Fury,”.

It’s blissful to finally be done with your consultations and sessions for the day. You take a moment to stretch out in your armchair, breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that you’ve made it through yet another gruelling week. You love your job, you really do; the trials are more than made up for when you see your patients making progress. But sometimes…

Sometimes you think you could do with a therapy session yourself.

You gather up the papers and folders spread out on the glass table in front of you, then make your way to your mahogany desk. Like the rest of your office, you try to keep it as neat and visually calming as possible (better for the patients, that way), which means that most of your papers are kept out of sight, filed away in one of the many sets of drawers lining your room. The notes you’ve made from your consultations today you place in the top-most drawer of your desk, so that they can get scanned, then transferred into your digital records.

A sharp knock on your door interrupts your organisational groove. Your secretary, Maria Hill, steps inside, looking as crisp as ever in her well-cut navy business suit. “That’s all for the day, Dr Foster, is there anything else you’d like me to do?” she asks. In one hand, she carries a steaming mug of tea, which she sets down on the floral coaster you keep on your desk. You give her a flicker of a smile as a show of thanks.

“No, it’s quite alright, Maria, I’ve just got some scanning to do, which I can handle when I come in for Mr Barton’s consultation tomorrow morning. If you’ve sent off those prescription orders as I requested earlier, then you’re free to go,”.

Maria nods in that brief, businesslike way of hers, then turns sharply on her heel to stride out of the room. “Oh, by the way,” she says, stopping with her hand on the door handle, “That Everhart woman called again. I gave her the same spiel about confidentiality and all, but she’s having none of it. Said she’d drop you an email,”.

You groan, pressing your fingers to your temples at the mention of that name. “Right,” you mutter, “Thanks for letting me know, Maria. I’ll handle her. Have a good evening,”.

After she leaves your office, you boot up your laptop and take a few sips of your tea. You huff angrily when you scan through your inbox and see that yes indeed, you’ve received an email from Christine Everhart. You’re half tempted to throw your laptop across the room in frustration. Why won’t she leave you alone? With a weary sigh, you begin to read it through.

Dear Dr Foster,

I hope you’ve been receiving my previous messages. I’ve been attempting to make contact for several months now, wishing to get a statement from you concerning your time working with the Avengers. I was wondering when you’d be free to discuss this topic with me.

I am well aware that, due to confidentiality and non-disclosure agreements, you are unable to talk about the information exchanged during your private sessions. This is not an issue. We — that is, myself and my superiors at WHiH World News — would simply like to get your side of the story, in terms of what it’s like living in a building filled with enhanced humans. In particular, we’d like to focus on your relationship with Sergeant James Barnes.

Your stomach does a sickening flip at the sight of his name. You read on, pushing past the feeing of nausea rising in your throat.

The interview itself would hardly take any time, and I am even happy to do it over the phone — though obviously, in-person would always be preferable. Should you require it, we would be able to negotiate a sum of money, in exchange for your cooperation.

If you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to contact me. Do let me know your preferred dates as soon as possible.

Kind regards,

Christine Everhart

You’re vision is tinged scarlet. When you look down at your hands, you find that your fingers are trembling with barely held-in rage. The audacity of that woman. How dare she think that she can just bribe you for information? What kind of person does she think you are? You’re fuming internally, and you half-expect there to be steam coming out of your ears. What kind of person must she be, to be willing to stoop so low in order to get what she wants. If she believes that she can just buy her way into your good books, you want absolutely nothing to do with her.

Besides, you’re not fooled by her words in the slightest. You’ve seen the articles she’s written about the team — the piece on Steve following the incidents in DC had been particularly cruel.

The more times your eyes skim over the email, the more infuriated you become and the more intensely the anger-fuelled fire burns inside you. You scoff at her choice of words; “when” you’d be free. You briefly wonder why on earth that woman thinks that you — a renowned psychiatrist — would have a spare minute in the day to talk to her, let alone actually want to do so. She’s assuming that you’re already in agreement, and that is something you simply cannot stand for.

Your ringtone blares, startling you out of your rage-filled downward spiral. A glance at the caller ID lifts your spirits immediately. You accept the call and put your phone on speaker, setting it down on the table as you slouch into your chair.

“Hey kiddo,” you say.

“Y/N!” Jane singsongs cheerily, “My long lost sister!”.

“Hey Janie,” you chuckle softly, a smile already creeping over your features. “You found the theory of everything, yet?”

“Haha,” she says, “Real funny. Haven’t heard you say that one before,”. You can practically see the eye roll that goes along with that sentence. “I just wanted to call to check up on you,”.

“Really? Aren’t I the older sister? Shouldn’t I be checking up on you?” you say dryly.

“You are a pretty shit older sister,” she concedes. “Actually, I had a real purpose for calling you,”.

“Oh, boy,” you mutter.

“Darcy and I were planning to take a trip to Bali this summer, but it’d be kinda boring with just the two of us. So, I was wondering if you — and maybe Wanda and Pegs — would want to come along too?”

Your heart sinks, “Jane, I’d love to—,”.

“But you’ve got patients to see, I know, I know, I figured you’d say that,” she sighs.

“Sorry,” you mumble, feeling truly upset for having rejected her suggestion. You’ve been dying for a vacation, but your practice was just picking up, and you hated having to miss sessions with your patients. “Maybe for Christmas we can do something?” you suggest.

“Yeah, whatever,” Jane grumbles, clearly upset with you.

“Aw Janie, don’t be like that!”

“Y/N, you need to look after yourself too, y’know?” she tells you, “You’ve barely had any time to yourself after—well,”. Wisely, she cuts herself off before finishing that thought, not wanting to bring up such a touchy topic.

You sigh. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course!” she exclaims.

You shift forward and bring your laptop closer to you. “So this reporter, Christine Everhart has been trying to get a statement out of me, ever since I stopped working for the Avengers—,”

“Everhart? Isn’t she that bitch from Vanity Fair?” she asks.

“That is she,” you affirm. “And bitch is an understatement. More like, cold-hearted snake,” you scoff. “Anyway, she just sent me this really, really pushy email, and it’s got me real pissed off,”. You read the aforementioned email out to Jane, who makes various sounds of outrage and discontent as she listens.

“Yeah, I guess cold-hearted bitch-snake is a good description,” she says, once you’re done.

You sigh heavily, suddenly feeling as if the weight of the world has come crashing down on your shoulders. “Sometimes, I wish I’d never said yes to Pepper that first time, you know?”.

“You don’t mean that,” Jane says softly.

“No, I guess I don’t,”.

A moment of silence passes, as Jane waits for you to elaborate. You think back to that time in your life, when things were still looking great for you.

After the thwarting of Project Insight, the massive SHIELD data dump and the revelation of the Winter Soldier’s identity, Pepper Potts had invited you to act as private psychiatrist to the team. She’d come to you under Sam’s recommendation, who — being a counsellor at the VA at the time — had heard your name mentioned in many circles, and passed this information on to her.

You were surprised when Pepper approached you, specifically, out of everyone else in your field. You were absolutely floored when you realised that she wasn’t just interviewing you for the job, but in fact, telling you that you’d already gotten it.

At the time, you were working with the US military, helping to rehabilitate returning soldiers who had suffered particularly horrendous experiences during their deployment overseas. You’d seen it all — from POWs who’d experienced extensive torture at the hands of their captors, to rape victims and soldiers struggling to cope with the loss of one body part or another. Pepper believed that your extensive experience working with individuals fresh out of war made you the ideal person for the position.

When you first took on the job, your primary focus was helping Steve through his PTSD. You’d talked to Sam, and discovered just how mulish the Cap really was. It had been a tiring uphill struggle, as the lack of care given to Steve after his awakening — especially with regards to overcoming his grief, survivor’s guilt and PTSD — made it all the more difficult for you to jump in and help.

Steve had already become accustomed to coping on his own, and thus rejected your support. Several times. He had never been given the opportunity to put himself first, made to return to combat before he’d even recovered from the horrors he saw during the 40’s. For the longest time, Steve had no one to bleed on and consequently, developed this misconstrued belief that he didn’tbleed. That took a while to shake off, but once you broke through his psychological shield — stronger than any amount of vibranium could ever be — the two of you became the best of friends.

You ended up having regular sessions with the rest of the team, as well. Pepper would forever be grateful to you for helping Tony overcome his mental troubles; she’d told you this herself.

Of course, when Bucky showed up out of the blue some months after your employment, it fell to you to help him find some semblance of normalcy. You’d studied HYDRA’s files on him extensively, searching for ways to break his triggers. Initially, he’d been reluctant to accept your help, much to Steve’s dismay. But, when Bucky realised how much less invasive your methods would be, he’d been game to give things a go. Helping him establish a healthy relationship with his metal arm had been particularly challenging. He’d never go back to the man he was before the war, but at least he could begin to find peace with the person HYDRA had forced him to be.

You prided yourself on maintaining professional decor at all times, but the environment at the compound was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Things were so much more…intimate. You were in office hours nearly 24/7, available for a chat with anyone, at any time. You’d found the boundary separating your ‘work’ mode from your ‘personal’ mode becoming increasingly blurred as you started doing more things with Bucky as ‘friends’. Over the course of countless sessions spent together — some far less professional than others — you found yourself falling in love with him.

That would turn out to be the best thing to ever happen to you and the biggest regret of your life.

“Y/N? You still there? You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” Jane teases, pulling you out of your contemplative stupor.

You laugh tiredly. “My only remorse about the whole thing is the fact that I let my emotions get the best of me, Jane. If I had somehow managed to…keep a hold of them better, I don’t think I’d be in this position, you know?”

“You can’t know that for certain, Y/N,” she chastises, “Don’t beat yourself up about it,”.

“I’m not! Well, I’m trying not to, at least,” you amend, “Don’t get me wrong, Janie, working with the Avengers was hands-down, the best experience of my life. I loved them. I love them, still. I just—I wish it hadn’t ended the way it did, y’know?”

“You love them still?” Jane repeats quietly, “Even Bucky?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah. Even him. Not—not the way I used to, obviously, but still,” you shrug, even though she’s not there to see it, “Something’s there,”.

Jane makes a noise of interest, like she’s about to comment on that, before groaning loudly. “Okay, Y/N. Listen, I gotta go, Darcy’s calling, but if you—if you need to talk to someone, I’m here for you, okay?”

“Bye Janie,” you murmur.

“Bye,”.

The office is almost hauntingly silent without Jane’s voice crackling out of the speakers. You shut down your laptop, finish off your tea and clean up the last few bits of paper littering your desk. Just as you’re about to leave, your phone dings with an incoming text. It’s from your boyfriend, Loki.

You wanna come over tonight? We can have dinner and chill.

You smile at the thought, knowing exactly what ‘chill’ means in his book.

Sure. Be there in 20.

You tuck your phone into your purse, and bustle about, locking things up. After that conversation with your sister, thoughts of Bucky are front and centre in your mind like they haven’t been for a while. Honestly, you thought that after half a year, you’d got over the worst of it. Apparently not. Try as hard as you might, you can’t turn off the trickle of images crossing your mind; some you look upon with fondness, others you push away in disgust.

That’s enough of that now, you scold yourself mentally, as you step out onto the streets. You have a new boyfriend now, someone that shares your interests and cares for you. No matter how special things might have been between you and Bucky, and despite what you might have thought at the time, it’s pretty clear that whatever you had together wasn’t irreplaceable.

---------------------------- Tags are open, but I’m only accepting requests via asks or PMs. Tag requests from replies/comments will be ignored.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #loki x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #my writing #i know this game #pepper potts #pepper x reader

421 notes · View notes

fanatic-writers · 7 years

Text

Loki Is NOT A “Bad Guy” (FIGHT ME!!!)

A/n: again this isn't my story it’s from my book. Also, there are a lot of comments in this one and idk if I should apologize or not

Warnoings: Some swearing (not enough imo)

(Cute Tom/Loki gif for a cute Loki story)

This one is kinda short, but tbh it’s my favorite. Ok, so this peasant is playing chess with a giant (apparently Vikings liked chess who knew?), and he beat his son on the game. (I don;t know why, but he did) Obvi the giant won or else the myth would be over and it’s not THAT short. Anyway, the giant is all “I’m gonna get your kid tomorrow and probably eat him unless you can hide him.” So the peasant and his wife pray to Odin for help. Odin comes down and turns the kid into a kernel of wheat and hides him in the field. Skrymsli (the giant) isn’t an idiot (well duh he won the chess match) and since the kid isn’t in the house he goes out and plows the field (kinda nice now the family doesn’t have to do it but also a dick move man) and after searching through the wheats finds the ear of what where the boy is hidden and just as he’s about to eat the kernel Odin takes it away and turns the boy back into a boy (cause as much as i kinda hate Odin he isn’t 100% an asshole.) Odin is all “I can’t help” and leaves so the peasant and his wife pray to Hoenir (pronounced high-neer and might’ve helped Odin create humans idk I cant find much on the guy ((god?))) who his the boy in a swan’s feathers as a downy fluff. When Skrymsli (gods I hate his name its so weird) came back he found the swan and broke it’s neck (wtf dude that extra of) and almost ate the boy until Hoenir floats the fluff away and turns him back into a boy. The god says he can’t help anymore and leaves and the giant says “I’ll be back” (read that in Arnold Schwarzenegger's voice it’s funny.) The desperate family prays to Loki (tbh I’d go to him firs but you know Odin is an ok choice I guess) who promises to help the family. Loki turns the boy into a fish egg and places him in the belly of a salmon. On his way back from the ocean he sees Skrymsli (seriously why are norse names so strange… probably cause they’re Norse… this has been a midnight revelation with G) is hell bent on fishing and Loki insists on fishing with him in case he is needed. (that’s my boi.) A few moments later the giant is reeling in a fish which jut=st happens to be the exact fish that Loki hid the boy in (How Loki knows I don't know cause all fish look the same to me.. Is that racist.. Fishist…. More midnight revelations.i should do this more often) ANYWAYS Loki takes the fish egg from the giant before he can eat it and transforms it back into the boy. He tells the boy to secretly run (all i can imagine is Loki being like the doctor and grabbing the boy’s arm and whispering run tbh) and the boy does as he’s told cause he’s not a fucking idiot (ayy first swear word.) The giant isn’t an idiot (as I’ve said) and chases the boy. The boy runs into the boat house and closes the door (Loki told him to do this btw) and Skrymsli (I DID IT FROM MEMORY OMG SO PROUD) runs into a spike that Loki had placed on the door before hand. This makes the giant collapse and Loki cuts off his leg (idk why he Vikings had violent ways to stop people and giants ok.”) The god notices the lag start to reattach itself and cuts off the other leg quickly placing flint and steel between the severed leg and te part still attached to the giant (the stump? And why does Flint stop magic? Is it cause it makes fire? Does fire top magic? All questions for my Wiccan mother… maybe she’ll know. Why am I still typing???) back to the story this stops the leg from re-attaching and kills the giant i guess 9he probably bled out.) The peasants are really happy and considered Loki the mightiest god (well duh he is… maybe I’m related to these peasants that’d be cool) cause he actually solved the problem while the other gods only helped for a bit, failed, and left.

THE END

(told you it was short)

A/n: Again thanks for putting up with my shennanigans (that’s a funny word I should use it more often.) I hope you enjoy these litle bedtime stories.

#Loki #myth retelling #bedtime story

22 notes · View notes

nordicdragonborn · 8 years

Text

Faecclams and Dergenbrens

After chatting about OCs and various OC trends with a friend of mine that’s also on the shipyard, I felt compelled to make a post where I showboat explain further for the benefit of myself anyone that might stumble upon this post.

First a disclaimer: What you do with your original characters and how you design them are ultimately your business and you’re under no obligation to change anything if you don’t want to. As long as you’re having fun with your OC then you’re doing it right.

Now with that out of the way: Faceclaim happy OCs and Dragonborns that lead all of the factions are fucking dumb.

Truth be told, any kind of OC that’s the head of more than one guild faction is dumb but it seems to be more popular among Dragonborn or player character OCs when it comes to TES roleplay, so much so that Dragonborn OCs are often stigmatized by others and tend to have very little RP partners. I can’t say I’m surprised after having heard about some that went this route and became little more than specters shortly after and after hearing about said scenarios, I can’t say I blame them. There is potential to have an awesome OC that’s affiliated with multiple factions for whatever reason but being able to pull it off is very hard to do and most fail, you’re not Emperor Palpatine who was basically the only fucker able to rule multiple factions and get away with it. Basically when you structure your OC/Dragonborn to be the head of all the factions for whatever reason folks don’t tend to stick around, in fact they tend to find it fucking repellent.

I’ll even suggest that having your OC be the headmaster of a single faction is something I wouldn’t reccommend. It’s much more realistic than having them be the headmaster of all of the factions but you still run the risk of alienating OCs that are involved with the same faction, whether it be because they simply like the ingame headmaster like Kodlak/Savos/Astrid or for any other reason. Instead of having them be the Harbinger of the Companions or head of the Thieves Guild. A character’s relation with a faction can be central and have it work well, absolutely, but a better alternative would be to have them be a member of the Circle or a Nightingale or something similar. Hell, even having them be a lowly grunt or a fresh faced recruit has a lot of potential, I know I’d certainly be interested if I found an OC that was newly initiated in the Companions.

And now for another pet peeve of mine: Faceclaims. They’re just another tool in the toolbox and while they’re ok, the way I’ve seen them be used and abused makes me want to hate the damn things for all time. The biggest reason why is that a lot of people labor under the impression that using images/gifs of the faceclaims in as many posts as possible is good form but after seeing so many pictures of the same face, readers tend to just glaze over the OC itself and really who can blame them? At that point, the reader is so exposed to the same face and the same expressions that they’re ultimately rendered meaningless, and the connection between the images and the OC that they’re somehow likened to is utterly lost. This is to say nothing of how much of a pain in the ass it is to have to deal with said posts in one’s dashboard, I used to follow a few blogs that loved to include gifs of their faceclaims in a majority of their posts back when my internet connection was at it’s worst and it was beyond dreadful. I’ll agree it’s the user’s right to post what they want and use their own blog as they wish, but I’ll also suggest that they have a little bit of empathy for those that follow them with sub-par ISPs or bandwidth issues.

Also this is a part of the faceclaims rant but it really needs to be it’s own thing: Try and find a faceclaim that isn’t Emilia Clarke or Tom Hiddleston, alright? Yes they are really photogenic and there are a ton of convenient gifs of them but it’s been done so many dicking times before that the loss of connection is exponentially worse. Unless you’re bringing something to the table that’s new enough to make the use of Daenerys/Loki gifs clever and original, and lets face facts: you’re fucking not, then go back to the drawing table. There are loads of other actors to consider if you’re determined to find a good reference to your OC’s appearance.

Faceclaims and Dragonborns-done-wrong are the main thrust of this mess of words but really this isn’t really new, a lot of characters have come to personify typical tropes that have been seen in literally all forms of media so much that they’re barely characters at all. That’s pretty much what happened to freaking Ned Flanders and how ‘Flanderization’ became a term.

To summarize: All of the stuff I’ve ranted about can be a part of your OC but only if you’re smart with their usage, and the same can be applied to other tropes. Promiscuous characters are another kind of OC that I’ve seen pop up a few times but never really had much staying power since a lot of the characters were made soley for the purpose of smut, and again it’s the same kind of problem with the OCs that are more faceclaim than original character and the Dragonborn OCs that are identical to the ingame character save of whoever made the blog.

When being a sex machine/master of everything/Tom Hiddleston’s doppelganger/ect. becomes the main priority above everything else, you’re not going to make a fun and interesting OC. You’re not focusing on the important shit that really matters, making your character an actual character.

#ooc

18 notes · View notes

valiha · 5 years

Text

helshades

reblogged your post and added:

“helshades: valiha: helshades: valiha: helshades: @valiha, it...”

Groupie! Sycophant! Fan!

OK, so it took me the better part of the night, after being constantly interrupted by people coming and going (it’s Laylat al-Qadr and it is tradition for families to gather for iftar and afterwards). I had to just add my replies and the numbers they refer to, because it turned out long and rambling and probably rubbish, but whatever. Now, how do I add a read more?

1. Re: ‘Earth-616 versus Earth-19999′ - got it!

2. OK, then it's simply that I'm not getting the explanation. It's not getting through. Or it's honestly that I don't like the idea of creating a divergent timeline when time-travelers go back to the past - that's again creating an entire universe that has to suffer these consequences?? (you'll probably say, they're fictional! but what if this were real? aren't you at least a little uncomfortable about that??)

3. Yes I do, if I want to enjoy the movie. I have trouble staying immersed in a movie if I can't at least be somewhat ok with the choices on the screen. Am I not allowed to express my dissatisfction with a plot point of a movie/show I'm watching? Even if my view might not be correct by someone else's opinion? (Also, I didn't like that the conflict between Steve and Tony. They were always in conflict; always yammer yammer fight fight; why?? That's boring to me. I'm finding I don't really like interpersonal conflict I guess? Not even in movies.)

4. But aren't your at least a little uncomfortable with that exodus at this moment in time, where there is a real live exodus of refugees, people fleeing their homes and countries, which have been utterly destroyed and they left desolate, forever scarred and at the mercy of others?? That is like a knife in my chest. Even in Avatar, which everybody is derisive about, when that scene of the Na'vi's home being destroyed came up and the were wailing on the screen you could have heard a pin drop at the theater. It was deathly silent, people were sitting in their seats holding each other, some were rying. The war had been over for nearly 15 years, yet this light-fare scifi flick had enough power to make grown people cry by showing alien people's home destroyed, inhabitants dead, wounded or fleeing. How do I explain how powerful that feeling was then, and is now, watching similar scenes, in the kind of world we live?

Re: Hela... I'd like to think everyone's redeemable. The kind of fics I like to read the most are often redemption stories. And I'm thinking, Odin lead those conquering wars, He had Hela as his right hand, pointed her towards his goals and had her "execute his vision", let's say. We can imagine their conquests were bloody: his father exterminated (to his knowledge) an entire race of people (I refuse to believe each and every member of a species is evil). He nearly did the same with the Jotnar. Something finally made him stop and look, and ask himself if he truly whated that to be his legacy. The movie says there's no hope for Hela, she's too far gone and perhaps she is - sometimes people truly are eveil; but what if? What if she decided to put down her sword when Odin asked, and Thor and Loki grew up beside her? If Odin gets his chance, can't she? These are the kinds of stories I am interested in.

This is something I've been thinking of often these past few days, with the anniversaries of some heinous acts of war committed in my country. I found myself thinking, would I try to rehabilitate and redeem the war criminals, the gun wielders, and the order givers? Would I forgive, or tolerate their presence, see them on the streets of my every day, see them working as police officers, businessmen, mayors the way some of them do on the streets of the cities they operated in years ago? Would I, provided they paid their dues, and retired to live out their lives far from the eyes of the public?

I struggle with this. Thing is, I don't owe anybody forgiveness for wronging me, and nobody owes me the same if I was the guilty party. But I'd like to think I would give a second chance, if it were earned. If we all keep enacting vengeance, eventually we'll exterminate each other.

(ugh I've again written a wall of text, and don't know if I managed to get across what I was trying to...)

5. No attacks, and I do know; and again I have to shake my head at that disgusting anon message. Nothing, in fandom or in brickspace, no kind of disagreement on what are maginary wrlds and people (even if the feelings are real) justifies that kind of behavior.

6. Re: your own sacrifie - have I missed a sentence somewhere in the MCU that said you could sacrifice yourself? And how would you get the Soul stone then - or were you always supposed to bring another person with you?? Have I missed something?

7. Back up - what Sif show? I thought Jamie Alexander was still filming her own series?

If you remember, I wasn't all that keen on the new look of Asgard they were leaking while the Dark World was filming - I already liked the, er, gilded design of the first movie, and its Shakespearean background. :) I guess the kind of audience that movie found wasn't the audience the TPTB were looking for... TDW did grow on me, eventually. What I dislike thmost abot Ragnarok is exactly that irreverent treatment of previous movies - it might be the thing in Maori culture, but it didn't at all feel respectfully disrespectful, dammit, but plain malicious. They just plain didn't care about what came before. It felt insulting. :( It may not have been meant that way, but that's how a lot of people viewed it.

Foster’s Fellows Forever! And no, unfortunatelly, from what I see except the peope on my dash and people whose fics I read at AO3, most of the wider audience really didn't like Dr. Foster. I'm not sure about the comics - I'm not a regular reader, and I spend even less time in comic spaces, but based on fandom osmosis, I thought her Thor run was popular?

(Lets make yet another Disney+ series - after all, aparently we've got the multiverse now - let's make it the kind of universe where everything ends well and the good doctor gets te recognition she deserves.)

I may have misread the comment on the issue between Marvel and Portman - would you agree that they had a problem with her (or her character) and not the other way around??

(Hel, I must admit a guilty pleasure: I too sometimes like watching cool fights against colourful aliens, as evidenced by a certain movie with a gaseous giant as the name of the main character. :D )

8. I'm not sure that Loki did fake his death either time. The scene on the bridge certainly felt like watching someone decide that's it, it's finally over. I think he knew of the passageways between Yggdrasil's branches, but didn't care if he happened upon one or not. He was lucky (or not so lucky I guess). Same with TDW - there's resignation on his face, plus apparently TPTB decree was that he would die and it was filmed as a genuine death, but the audience wanted him back. In-story explanation might then be his magic healed him, or his Jotun healing, or the Norns had other plans for him or whatever. I don't have any proof really, but I prefer this explanation.

(I should probably heed spoilers which say my facorite characters will die; I do the same for fic so why don't I learn the same for movies?!)

Re: Gamora, I'm sad about the loss of development she went through, all the small moments with Groot, the time she spent with the others on Milano. That hurts. This Gamora hasn't had that, and who's to say she will gravitate towards them again? If she doesn't, I at least hope the new companions she finds will be good for her.

Thanos, get your grubby hands off my Earth, thank you very much. Let's have that battle out in space, away from any populated planets, shall we?

9. Attack: criticize or oppose fiercely and publicly. No attacks whatsoever, not for opposing views in fandom, not for liking/disliking characters, not for anything. Thankfully there's a blacklist (even a native one for the Tumblr app), so I can hide whatever I don't want to see. But even if I do see and read it with my own eyes, if I interact with the post I will not do it maliciously. If we can't agree, we don't agree, and we change the topic. How's that?

#helshades

0 notes