#but I was already worried that this would make it too similar to Grinning Trickster and that was before I learned about Wandering Voice so

[jazelock]

Nothing Lingers Just Out of Sight

Idea for a Fear Spirit that has the Special Rule:

Flinch Away from Shadows

Generate 1 Fear whenever you use a Power Card on a target land with your Presence. Generate 1 additional Fear if your next Action in the same Power Phase removes all your Presence from that land.

and the Innate Power of:

Paranoia Seeps Through the Land

Speed: Slow, Range: 0, Target Land: Any - This power may be Fast. - You may push 1 of your Presence. - You may repeat this power for each Moon element you have.

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons 9: Shaco

The time has come to discuss League’s resident killer clown… Or killer jester, I suppose. There is a difference, not that it really matters because even the lore doesn’t ACTUALLY know what Shaco is. To be frank, Shaco is a weird character because he’s NEVER had a proper place in the story, even from his conception.

Shaco’s original lore paints him as a complete and utter mystery. Nobody knows who or what he is, where he came from, or what he really wants. All anyone has ever known is that Shaco loves killing people because he thinks it’s funny. He could be a demon, a rogue weapon, or just a homicidal madman who’s really good at what he loves. That’s where his character begins and ends, so there’s really not much to actually analyze here. Shaco’s second lore attempts to give us a little more detail but all it really does is say the exact same thing with more words added in.

Of course, Shaco’s first two lores were written at a time with the Institute of War and Summoners were still canon, so after the retcon back in 2015 Riot opted to give him a new backstory to make him fit in with the new world of Runeterra. That backstory, as we can see, is ultimately little more than a placeholder. I mean, his extended bio doesn’t even match the blurb on his Champion page!

In summation: Shaco is a haunted doll who belonged to an unknown prince of an unknown kingdom and was transformed by unknown magics for unknown reasons. This backstory now feels especially redundant with the introduction of Gwen into the game, a living doll with a similar backstory albeit far less evil. To be frank: there’d be room to have some interest thematic parallels between Gwen and Shaco if Riot had written these two in such a way that they were creations of the same person or belonged to the same kid but wound up becoming wholly opposite of one-another.

For example: perhaps in an alternate version of the lore, Gwen comes to embody the childlike innocence and hope of her maker/owner and seeks to spread joy and cheer while Shaco is a corrupt and perverted manifestation of those desires who seeks only to amuse himself in the suffering of others. This, I think, would have been a fantastic way to go about it, but given that Gwen is already so heavily tied to the Shadow Isles plotline and Viego is set up to be her primary enemy, I feel like it would be kind of difficult to work Shaco into that dynamic at this point.

Besides, it’s clear that Riot DOES have plans for Shaco: namely, that they aim to retcon him into being a demon. This is somewhat evident by his champion title, the Demon Jester, as well as his relationships are listed as being Nocturne and Fiddlesticks, the demons of nightmares and fear, respectively. There’s also that branch on the demon family tree labeled “Delirium” which would fit a murderous jokester pretty well.

To be honest, I was initially hesitant to even bother doing an episode for Shaco given that Riot clearly has at least some vague idea of what to do with him, but since reworks are coming out a lot slower now and Shaco’s not even on Riot’s priority list as far as we’re aware, it’ll probably be a WHILE before we actually see them do anything with this particular concept.

So, given what we know about Riot’s current plans, the general direction of this rewrite is simple: make Shaco a demon. Admittedly, though, that’s a little easier said than done. Demons in League are creatures who feed on mortal pain and suffering, but each of them has a different way of going about it. Fiddlesticks mainly uses paranoia and trauma to drive his victims mad while Nocturne takes a more Freddy Krueger approach of just invading dreams and turning them into nightmares. Tahm Kench likes to make Faustian Bargains by giving you everything you want and then tearing it all away from you, while Evelynn lures you in with seduction and then proceeds to tear you apart piece by piece.

Every demon takes a different form and has different ways of going about things, but all of them share a core concept: they feed on suffering and misery, be it physical or emotional. That said, there’s a bit more to demons in Runeterra than just that. See, back when Fiddlesticks was released, Riot went and released what the community has dubbed the “Demon Family Tree,” which appears to be a chart displaying the hierarchy of demons and different emotions that different kinds of demons can prey on.

Now, admittedly, there’s a LOT about this chart that we don’t currently understand, and frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if Riot doesn’t either. There’s a key that resembles the one around Zoe’s neck in the top-left, a bunch of circles in the top right we don’t know the meaning of, and a whole bunch of text written in what I think is supposed to be Old Noxian that we can’t currently decipher. There have been theories and discussions about this already, so I’m not going to get too deep into it, but the main takeaway, I think, would be the words on the chart that we CAN read: Fear, Delirium, Nightmares, Secrets, Bliss, Frenzy, and Obsession. There’s also the term “Azakana” at the bottom, though we know thanks to Yone that this basically just refers to a demon that hasn’t fully matured yet.

Tying the chart back to the demonic Champions in the game, it’s easy to piece together the connections that they each have: Fiddlesticks is fear, Nocturne is Nightmares, Raum (the demon bound to Swain) is Secrets, Evelynn is commonly believed to be Bliss, and Tahm Kench is most likely Obsession. That leaves Delirium and Frenzy untouched, which leaves us with two spots to fit Shaco into.

Now comes the hard part: the decision. Delirium refers to a state of mind in which one’s awareness of their actions or environment is significantly reduced, whereas frenzy is a sudden burst of frantic, uncontrolled emotion, typically rage or aggression. Either one of these could work well for a killer jester, but I personally think that delirium would suit Shaco better in terms of how his personality is portrayed in game. So, with that said, let’s dive deep into the realm of demonic and see what can be done to turn this cursed puppet into a proper Demon of Delirium.

It is often said that misery and comedy are but two sides of the same coin. Laughter often comes at the expense of others, and one person’s despair may be another’s delight. Most entertainers would tell you that walking the line between humor and malice is key, but to Shaco, such distinctions are a joke for which he himself is the final punchline.

The demon known as Shaco has stalked Runeterra for ages, spreading his twisted influence far and wide. There’s nothing Shaco loves more than to bring joy to those who need it most, often appearing to mortals who have experienced great loss or tragedy. Those coping with grief or misfortune may find themselves unexpectedly visited by a grinning jester, who assures that his only desire is to take away their pain with the power of laughter.

At first, Shaco’s antics are innocent enough. Some cheesy jokes to lighten the mood, some harmless pranks to lift the spirits of the downtrodden, all with an unyielding smile that one cannot help but start to imitate. Soon, those enthralled with Shaco’s antics are invited to play games with the jester to help distract from their worldly worries. Those who accept are whisked away to partake in a day of fun and merriment, playing all manner of pranks on friends, family, and even innocent bystanders.

When the games end, Shaco leaves his playmates cackling insanely in the aftermath, often surrounded by bodies and covered in blood. None laugh louder than Shaco, however, who delights in watching his playmates slowly regain their sanity and come to realize all the atrocities committed at his side. Some cry out in despair, while others break down laughing or crying harder than before. Some go mad, others are executed for their crimes, and some even opt to take their own lives. All outcomes are equally hilarious to Shaco, who soon sets out in pursuit of his next playmate.

Stories of the Mad Trickster exist all across Runeterra, often told as children’s tales to teach valuable lessons: don’t trust strangers, never give in to sadness or despair, and always be mindful to never take a joke too far. Few truly believe in Shaco’s existence, but those who fail to heed such warnings may find themselves to be his next playmate, as well as the butt of his joke…

So, this one was a bit shorter than normal, but I think it serves to get the point across. As the embodiment of delirium, I wanted to give Shaco a set-up sort of similar to Tahm Kench: he appears to offer help to those in need, only to end up ruining their lives in the long run. The difference, of course, is that Shaco lures people in to help them forget their troubles with fun and games, only to escalate to full-blown murder and mayhem.

In essence, Shaco drives others to delirium, making them believe the carnage is all just fun and games until his spell is broken and reality sets in. I’d like to think he particularly likes preying on the downtrodden because those who are suffering mental anguish already are easier for him to cast his spell on.

This is just my take on Shaco, though. Who can really say what Riot will do with him in the future? Who knows, his rework might end up even better than what I have here, but of course, anything is bound to be better than his current, non-existent lore.

[magicrowiswritingstuff]

Part 1: “Dead Trickster” - Gabriel x female!reader

Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 | Part 3 | …

Summary: Takes place during Season 2 Episode 15. The Reader is sure that the trickster couldn’t have been defeated so easily. Even though nobody believes you, you decide to keep an eye out just in case.

Warning: violence/fighting, slight suggestive themes

Category: general rating

Words: about 4.000

Note: I wrote this because it always bugged me that Sam, Dean and Bobby just walked away after “killing” the trickster without a second thought. I instantly suspected that this couldn’t be the end of the trickster and what happened? I was right and he became my favorite character. So, this is more self-inserted than usually … I just wanted to tell Sam and Dean how stupid they were for just leaving that school instantly without checking. Also, I wanted to call out Gabe because come on … how could anyone believe he was really dead back then?

  _________________________________  

Part 1 “Dead Trickster” – Gabriel x fem!reader

This hunt had to be one of the strangest you were ever on. Okay, a ghostly suicide wasn’t uncommon, you had solved plenty of similar cases. But a crocodile in the sewers and an alien abduction? Something strange was happening in this town and to the Winchesters. You were grateful for Bobby showing up and putting the boys back into their places. They had been acting up ever since you set foot into this city. Bobby had explained that it was because of the influence of a trickster, however you wondered why you weren’t really affected by it. Not that it mattered anymore. The three of you had your suspicions on who it might be and now you only needed to prove it before acting further. That was why you were walking to the school alone right now with three coffees balanced in your arms. Sam and Dean were already in the school, probably accompanied by the janitor who you suspected to be the trickster. You opened the door to the stairway with your foot and looked up, trying to find the boys. Sam had texted you that they were somewhere there. Then you heard Dean explaining something about which offices needed to be checked today. You turned away from the staircase leading up to be met with the janitors face only inches away from yours. Yelping you almost let go of the paper cup in your left hand but you managed to grasp it again. Thank God, for your hunter reflexes.

“Hey there, sugar. Been wondering where they left you” the golden-eyed man said with a grin on his lips. You let your eyes drift to Sam and Dean, standing on the last couple of stairs behind the supposed trickster. They reassured you with an almost unnoticeable nod and you directed your gaze back to the janitor immediately. You put on a small smile and tried to appear innocent. “I was just getting some coffee.” With a light laugh you turned to Dean and Sam, handing the first coffee to Dean who accepted it without question. When you reached out to Sam you said: “With sugar just like you want it.” But Sam shook his head. “Thank you, but I don’t feel like drinking something sweet right now.” You looked at Sam with a pout, focusing really hard on not grinning: “You couldn’t have said that before I went out to buy them?” “Sorry” Sam said abashed. Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention back to the janitor who eyed you expectantly. You rose one eyebrow at him in question before holding the excess coffee out for him to grab. “Want some? I don’t want to waste the money I spend for it” you asked with a shy smile. But when he didn’t react you added: “It’s not poisoned, just has a shit ton of sugar in it.” The janitor looked at the paper cup before directing his gaze back to you. “Yeah, thank you.” He grabbed it, though you noticed that he touched your hand a few seconds more than necessary. Forcing back your confused expression your focused on appearing friendly. When his touch left your skin you immediately pulled your hand back, maybe a little too fast and noticeable but you couldn’t help it. Something about this man was strange. He took one sip, his eyes still fixated on you with a mischievous glint, but the moment the dark liquid touched his lips his expression changed. With his eyebrows furrowed in a disgusted manner he looked down at the cup. “What is it?” you asked confused and took one sip of your own coffee. Then with playful shock you gasped. “Oh! Sorry, I must have gave you the wrong cup. Yikes, Sam you drink too much sugar” you said with an equally disgusted face, matching the one of the janitor. “I’m sorry, not much of a black coffee fan I suppose?” you apologized. The janitor shook his head. “Not really.” He handed you the cup back. “Again, I’m sorry” you repeated. “Don’t worry, at least there was no poison in it, was it” the man joked. You laughed and then turned around to face the door. “I’m going to get rid of these. Don’t wait for me, I’ll catch up.” And with these words you left the staircase just as you heard Sam say that he had forgotten something in the truck. You smiled to yourself as you let the coffee which the janitor had tried fall into the trash. Taking a sip from the sweet one you sighed as you looked at the cloudy sky. You had achieved what you needed.

 _______________

 Later that day you left the school for good with Sam and Dean following you. “Just because he reads Weekly World News doesn’t mean he’s our guy” Sam said as he passed you on the stairs. “You read it too” he added, looking at Dean who was walking on your right. The older brother rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, it’s him.” You let out a sigh as you jumped down the last two stairs, trying to keep pace with the two larger guys. “Look” Sam continued. “I just think we need some hard proof. That’s all.” “Bobby mentioned the metabolism of tricksters” you pointed out while jogging beside them. “Right” Dean nodded as he came to a halt in front of Sam. “He said that these suckers have a metabolism like an insect. All right, a real sweet tooth.” You stopped as well, standing in the middle with your eyes facing the façade of the school. You tried really hard to not look at the reflecting windows, to not search for the brown-haired man. You shouldn’t stand out too much. “I didn’t find any candy bars or sugar. Not even equal” Sam pointed out. “Well, he didn’t like the black coffee I handed him” you threw in, shrugging your shoulders passively. Sam glanced at you from his side. “That’s not enough prove. There are many regular people who don’t like black coffee” Sam invalidated your argument. “Touché” you only said. “Yeah, then you must have missed something” Dean said, directed at Sam. The younger brother turned his attention back on Dean. “I don’t miss things” Sam snarled. “Oh, right” Dean uttered, leaning back slightly. “Because you’re Mr. Perfect.” Sam narrowed his eyes and scowled at his older brother. You took one step back, not wanting to end up in the middle of the argument. Letting your eyes wander around you found yourself inspecting the façade of the school again. You saw someone move in front of a window and as your eyes met honey colored orbs you turned away immediately. Luckily Sam had just spoken up again so your eyes drifted automatically back to him. “Are you still pissed at me because of what the trickster did?” he asked in an angry tone. Dean huffed, looking to the side before meeting his brothers heated gaze. “Oh, come on man. You been a tight ass long before the trickster showed up.” Sam seemed as if he was at a loss for words. “Too much, Dean” you hissed and narrowed your eyes at him. The older brother only huffed once. “Don’t stick your nose into others people business, (Y/N)” he snapped at you. You took one step back, pursing your lips. Now you were the one at a loss for words but Sam stepped in. “Look, just stay here. Keep an eye on the janitor. (Y/N) and I will go to his place, see if we can find any actual evidence before you go barging in and staking the man.” You nodded in agreement, however Dean only mimicked Sam with a sour face, not saying anything. “Just wait till we get back, okay?” Sam added, still on edge. “Dean” you said in a warning tone, crossing your arms before your chest. “Okay?” Sam followed up and was met with a sharp “Okay” back from his older brother. Sam took off, not waiting another second. “Take care” you whispered with your mouth facing away from the many school windows. Dean looked down on you with his expression set in stone but you could make out the tiniest glint in his eyes which signaled that he had understood. Nodding one last time you ran to catch up to Sam. You hoped the plan would work.

 _______________

 It was already dark when you watched Dean enter the school on his own. Biting your lip, you turned to look at Bobby and Sam, each of them armed with a stake. You looked down on your own weapon for a second before directing your gaze back to the entrance of the school. “When should we follow him?” you asked in a hushed tone. “I think we waited long enough, don’t want your brother alone with the trickster for too long” Bobby answered, the last part directed at Sam and stood up from behind the bushes. You and Sam followed as quickly as possible.

Inside of the building the three of you searched the staircase when you heard something from one floor above you. “Guys, this way” you whispered. You climbed the stairs and came to a halt in front of another door. Pressing your ear against it you listened for Dean’s or the janitor’s voice. Through the sound of music -was that Barry White?- you could make out the faint voices of two men. It had to be Dean and the trickster. You looked up at Sam and Bobby and nodded. “They’re in there.” You looked at the sign next to the door and noticed that it was the school theater room. “There has to be another entrance into the theater room” you said in a hushed tone. Bobby nodded: “I’m going to search for the other one so we can corner him in the room. You two stay here, I’ll text you, Sam, when I found it.” Bobby left you and Sam alone. And since you had to wait for a while you decided to eavesdrop a little. You couldn’t really understand much through the music though. “Come on!” you could make out. “Those people got what was coming to them.” That must be the trickster talking. You narrowed your eyes, focusing on understanding anything else. “But you and Sam and (Y/N), I like you. I do.” You backed away from the door a little to see Sam also pressing his ear against the door. Raising one eyebrow you mouthed “Weird” before turning back onto eavesdropping. You must have missed something because the next thing you heard was from Dean. “Yeah, I don’t think I can let you do that.” “I don’t wanna hurt you” the trickster responded. “And you know that I can.” Though it didn’t sound really that threatening you could feel a cold shiver run down your back. Shuddering you clung to the stake. You noticed Sam move beside you, looking at his phone. He turned it to you so you could read that Bobby had found the other entrance and asked when to strike. You grabbed Sam’s phone after asking for it silently. You typed in “Now” but didn’t press send just yet. Turning to the door once more you could hear both of men laugh. You must have missed something again. “One of my personal favorites” the trickster declared. “Yeah” Dean agreed. “But I can’t let you go.” “Too bad.” Still, the trickster’s voice hadn’t lost his cheerful pitch but you still felt uneasy after hearing those words. “Sam and (Y/N) were right.” You let your finger hover over the send button. “You shouldn’t have come alone.” You flinched a little. The trickster’s voice sounded uncharacteristically serious. You pressed send the moment you heard Dean say: “Well, I agree with you there.”

 You gave Sam his phone back and pressed the door to the theater room open to reveal something you hadn’t thought you would see in there. A huge red bed with two women on it only dressed in lingerie. Confused you blinked a few times before breaking away from the strange view. Your eyes wandered to Dean and then to the trickster who turned around to meet your gaze. You heard another door open and close and you knew that Bobby must have entered as well. But you didn’t look as your eyes were still glued to the golden ones of the trickster. Another shiver ran down your back. Something was up. Narrowing your eyes at him you tried to get at the bottom of your suspicion. The trickster, still dressed in his janitor clothes, returned your glance before turning around in his seat to face Dean once more. “That fight you three had outside, that was a trick?” He didn’t really sound surprised more fascinated by it than anything else. “Not bad.” You finally broke your gaze away from the trickster and realized that Sam had already stalked towards the man and his brother. You wanted to follow him when you heard the trickster speak up again: “But you wanna see a real trick?” He pointed to you and Sam without looking. You heard the chainsaw behind you before your mind could catch up what he meant by that.

Your eyes widen in shook as you turned around and saw a masked man with a chainsaw in his hands. You managed to take exactly one step back when you felt Sam push you into the rows of seats and away from the chainsaw which would have cut you in half otherwise. The focus of the masked man shifted onto Sam who threw himself on the floor, only barely dogging the man’s swing. Shaking your head, you stood up from the seat you had landed in even though your back hurt from the not so graceful landing. You saw Bobby run to help Sam while Dean struggled against the two women. The trickster only laughed at the sight of your friends getting hurt. Baring your teeth, you slowly made your way over the rows of seats, sneaking towards the trickster as he continued to laugh and giggle. Your heart hammered against your chest as you reached the last row, standing right behind the trickster. Holding up the stake above your head you were about to bring it down when you hesitated. Something wasn’t right here. You shook your head and gripped the stake tightly in your hands again just when he spun around with a grin. Your eyes widen in shock as you froze, giving the trickster just the time he needed to leap over his seat and pin you down on the one behind you. Taken by surprise you let out a yelp as your eyes darted around without orientation before focusing onto the trickster’s smirking face and twinkling golden eyes. “Ah-ah-ah” the trickster said, holding your arms above your head as your back was pressed painfully against the chair as he stood above you. “Don’t want you to get hurt, now do we?” He tore your arms forward again and snatched the stake from your grip before you could even move one finger. “Thanks, sugar” he said with a wink. You opened your mouth to say something with your eyes narrowed to small slits when you were suddenly standing in front of the theater doors again. Blinking confused you just stood there for a few seconds, holding yourself upright with the wall while wondering what the hell just happened. The trickster must have teleported you away. The only coherent thought you could form was “He can do that?” before the sounds of the fight tore you away from your confused daze and back into reality. Without wasting another second, even if you were defenseless now, you stormed back in. On top of the stairs you stopped and looked around. The trickster had sat down on his seat again, twirling your stake around while eating a candy bar. You began to run towards him, not thinking about sneaking up on him this time. Just as he turned his face to his right, theatrically cringing at Dean getting punched in the face by one of the women you jumped forward and tackled him to the ground. He let out a surprised “Uff” as he landed half on the ground and half on the seats with you on top of him. For a split second he seemed confused before his eyes met yours and a smirk spread over his lips. “(Y/N)” he said in a cheerful tone which caught you off guard. And before you knew it you were the one on the floor. Groaning you held the throbbing sides of your skull, trying to steady your spinning vision when you felt two hands pinning your arms on the ground beside your head. Opening your eyes, you saw the trickster above you, his body pinning yours to the ground. “I’m surprised you dared to come back here without a weapon, sweet little innocent (Y/N)” he said still grinning. You snarled at him, your eyes narrowing to small slits again. “Well, guess I’m not that shy and innocent after all.”

You brought your knee up as fast as possible, hitting the trickster in the groin. He immediately cringed in pain, his body contracting as a sharp yelp escaped his lips. You took advantage of that small window of opportunity and freed one of your arms, blindly searching for the stake that was lying somewhere on the ground with you. Just when you touched it with the tips of your fingers you were suddenly pulled up and pressed into one of the seats again, the stake still untouched on the floor. Clenching your teeth, you looked up to meet the trickster’s eyes again. “Was that your plan? Knocking me out with a kick to the dick? You have to do better than that to get the upper hand in bed, sugar” he said, now again smirking down at you. A shocked gasp left your lips as you pressed yourself further into the seat and away from the trickster. You were unable to from words as your eyes darted around, trying to find a way to win this battle. Your eyes landed on Dean who looked at you for a split second before he was grabbed by one of the women and flung through the room. He crashed into one of the seats before sliding to the ground. The trickster had followed your eyes, slightly letting go of you in the process of turning around. “Ha! Nice toss, ladies” he praised. Now only one of his arms was pinning you down by the shoulder as he laid his focus on Dean. “Dean” he began, letting go of you completely. “Dean, Dean, Dean.” You locked eyes with Sam who pointed to the stake on the ground to your feet. Biting your lip, you wiggled away from the trickster when he was distracted by Dean who was still on the ground in front of you. The older Winchester slowly rose up, looking you in the eyes while you grabbed the stake from the floor. You nodded. “I did not wanna have to do this” the trickster said, arms outstretched as he stared down at Dean. But before he could do anything you kicked him in the groin once more, taking him by surprise. He howled in pain before spinning around to face you.

“Good enough?” you asked with a sly grin and threw the stake to Dean who caught it with ease. The trickster turned around once more but was not fast enough to stop Dean from plunging the stake into his chest. You jumped over the last row of seats to stand beside the older brother as he said: “Me neither.” The sound of the chainsaw howled once more but when you looked, the masked man disappeared into thin air as well as the two women. You stood behind Dean when you turned to face the trickster again. His face seemed shocked and confused. Then Dean pulled the stake out of the trickster’s chest who fell backwards and slumped down into his seat. Grabbing onto Dean’s jacket you narrowed your eyes. Was that it? The trickster was dead? A little voice in your mind whispered that something still seemed suspicious. But before you could voice your thoughts you got interrupted by Dean asking if everyone was alright. You let go of the older Winchester and took one step back. Answering with a quiet “Yeah”. Sam did so too but added “I guess” not very convincing. Dean whipped away the blood from his lips as his eyes wandered to the dead trickster. “Well, I gotta say he had style” he said before groaning and walking pass you to the door. You however couldn’t keep your suspicion to yourself any longer as the adrenaline left your body. “You think he’s really dead?” you asked, still standing before the supposed dead trickster. Dean stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face you. “You don’t suppose he had another trick up his sleeve?” you asked further, locking eyes with the older Winchester. “Stop worrying. I killed him” Dean reassured you and pointed to the bloody stake as if to underline his argument. You cringed at that, turning your focus back onto the dead trickster. No, this couldn’t have been so easy. “Wasn’t he able to cast illusions that were touchable?” you pressed. You were sure that this couldn’t be the end. As if you four were able to trick a probably century old trickster so easily. He didn’t really put up much of a fight, letting illusions do his work, teleporting you away or only pinning you down but never really hurting or fighting you in the process. This was simply too easy. “He’s dead, (Y/N)” Dean said bluntly and turned away from you, walking to the door. Sam nodded in agreement before he and Bobby followed close after. “If you say so…” You weren’t as experienced on the field as your hunter companions but you had researched a lot and you knew when your gut was right. And it was screaming at you that this win was to easy. Either way, you decided to trust them. Or at least kind of. When they had left the theater room you stayed behind, eyeing the dead trickster.

“Maybe I’m making a fool out of myself right now and you really are dead” you started and crossed your arms before your chest. You felt that cold shiver on your back again. No, something really wasn’t right here. “But I suppose it wouldn’t really matter if that was true, right?” You looked around suspiciously, trying to make out anything unusual. “I know this can’t be it. I know you aren’t dead. Trickster’s are hard to kill and you can never be too sure about it” your eyes traveled back to the unmoving trickster. You twisted your mouth. You were sure you were right about this. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.” And with that you turned around and fled the scene, catching up to Sam, Dean and Bobby.

       To be continued: Part 2 is here!

_________________________________  

[the-wiresmarvelau]

T.H.E. W.I.R.E.S.

Peter and his Friends are allowed to design the compound and couldn’t help but riddle it with secret tunels and hallways. While Peter installs said hallways he makes some new acquaintences who he has to help and gets help from.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2  - chapter 4

Chapter 3: secrets

The rest of the night was spent pacing about the compound.

Peter couldn’t stand even the thought of standing still but he knew that he was too wound up to be much good on patrol.

Instead, he took to walking up and down the corridors; until it literally drew him up the wall, how unproductive he.

Then he began distributing all the small things like pillows and decorations to all the Rooms he had roughly finished by then. Up to this point he didn’t have the nerve to do so much walking but right now it was exactly what he needed.

When he was done with the normal rooms, he did the same for the small spaces in THE WIRES he had built in for hiding or just chilling out.

The AI they wanted to install in there was almost finished and the young genius was eager to have him here.

They had decided on a male AI to even it out. His Name would be Manuel; since he was a manual for THE WIRES.

Ned loved this pun and they both were proud of their creation.

Peter tried to go through everything they had yet to code in his head in a desperate attempt to not think about Loki.

Yes, he wanted to save him and yes it had to be as fast as possible but the god had also said that it would take at least a day or two until he could contact his mother and right this moment the hero’s thoughts were too scattered to think of a solution.

As he went to bed, he was still more than a little distraught and didn’t think he would be able to so much as close an eye.

To his surprise, he drifted off fairly soon.

But it really couldn’t be called sleep as he was half conscious for most of the time and every time, he fell asleep properly, mere minutes passed until he was shaken awake again by sharp pains littering his back or threading through his mouth and lips.

Or he saw the god cowering in a cell, or being dragged out of it by his hair to be executed or to be whipped and beaten, again and again.

After a few hours spent half awake half dreaming up nightmares, he decided to get up.

It was of no use to torture himself also. There was enough pain already in this world.

Numb and slightly drowsy from tiredness he dragged himself to his bathroom.

While he showered, he tried to go through his options.

SHIELD was in ruins, therefore in no condition to house the god. Plus, they had been the ones banning him from ever coming back to earth in the first place.

They were out.

The government was similarly unprepared for this. They had neither the knowledge nor the resources to build a suitable housing and they would probably have to inform the public of what was going on, practically hanging a neon sign over the trickster’s head for Odin to find.

Mr. Stark was a whole other deal. He could build a safe facility and he wouldn’t even think about telling the media or government.

But as Loki had already mentioned. The billionaire wouldn’t hear him out in the first place.

He would berate the boy for talking to the Asgardian and threaten the god to leave them alone and to not play any tricks.

He wouldn’t see that just because someone was good at lying, didn’t mean they couldn’t also tell the truth.

And Peter knew that the New York incident offered enough opportunity for mayor grudges on his mentor’s side.

As Tony and him had grown closer both of them had opened up to each other.

The Inventor had told him about his childhood in Captain Americas shadow and the light of press cameras.

He had opened up about his time in Afghanistan, about Obadiah and Ultron and about what happened on the helicarrier and during the Chitauri invasion. Much of it during long nights, riddled with nightmares and panic attacks.

In return, the teenager had told him about uncle Ben, his guilt in his death and his sensory issues that came with his powers.

He told him about how the Vulture had found out his identity and how terrified he was when he almost drowned because of that guy.

They of course didn’t tell each other everything.

Everything Peter knew about his mentor’s childhood was pieced together from what he was told of the man’s nightmares and contextless rants.

Peter still didn’t know how Rhodes had become Tony’s friend and if Peter hadn’t seen the demolished suit, he wouldn’t even know half the extent of what went down in Siberia.

He still had no idea what exactly happened.

But that was okay. Tony was allowed to have secrets; besides, he was not the only one keeping them.

The teen had many himself.

He had never told Mr. Stark about Flash and Skip*. Or about the building, dropped on him.

Or that it was him, who he saved at the Stark Expo.

Or the meeting with DareDevil.

It was hard for him to talk after a nightmare. And other times he didn’t know how to bring stuff like this up with his father figure - because that’s what Tony had become for him at this point - even though he wanted the other to know.

Maybe that’s why he had made it a habit to look through old security footage now and again.

He wanted someone else to find what he couldn’t talk about, so he searched for hints of similar wishes and events in others.

During one of those searches he had come across the security footage of the day of the alien invasion as well as Loki’s arrival on Midgard (he didn’t want to know how and why Tony had gotten these from SHIELD) and with that, of Loki.

On that footage, something had been weird about his appearance, but back then he hadn’t really been able to name what it was, so he had let it slide pretty quickly.

After all, he was an alien.

But now, that he had seen how the god had presented himself, while he altered his looks to, what Peter assumed, was himself in a healthy condition; He was pretty sure he hadn’t been well back then either.

His pale skin had clung to his skull, the eyes sunken in and rimmed with red all around.

Keeping that in the back of his mind he decided that it would be best to keep the god somewhere close, so he could be protected.

And what was closer and safer than the very compound he currently resided in?

It was literally made to keep a hoard of super powered people safe.

There still was the part about Tony not hearing Loki out of course. But he was sure that helping the god was the right thing to do, he had to at least try and convince Tony to let Loki move in.

Unless.. he just wouldn’t know he was there.

Unsure about how good of an idea it actually was, he stepped out of the shower, went over to his closet and started to get dressed.

He needed to talk to Ned.

It was out of the question that his best friend would tell on Loki or him. He was the only person who knew everything about the superhero. And he trusted him with his life.

Together they would figure it out, though they had to find a way to get rid of KAREN.

Her Protocols would probably force her to relay all information about Peter and Loki to Mr Stark and that simply wouldn’t do.

Only problem: KAREN was still installed on his StarkWatch, hearing everything around him and simply taking it off would be a sure way to arouse suspicion, as he never took it off, save for when he showered.

Looking down to his wrist he cursed himself for how responsible he was. He had already put on his watch, first thing the moment he had towelled himself down.

He sat down for a moment to think about what he could do now.

The only reason to take another shower would be an extensive workout, after that he could pretend to have forgotten to put his watch back on again.

Peter really wasn’t in the mood for training but he needed to talk to his friend without the AI.

“KAREN, could you invite Ned over please? I wanna work on Manuel today” he asked while getting out some sports clothes and changed into them, a little annoyed with himself that he hadn’t thought about what to do before pulling on his normal wear.

‘I will text him at eight thirty, unless it is important enough to wake him up now?’ It was reassuring to hear her usual sass.

“Yeah, sure.” He answered, “it’s not urgent or anything. Please also ask Happy to pick him up and make a workout plan for the meantime. I’ve slumped on training a bit lately.”

‘If you say so’

It felt like it took an unreasonably long time for his friend to arrive.

When he finally got the text from Ned, telling him he was only five minutes away, Peter sent a text back that they would meet up in the lab and went to his room to take a shower.

He deliberately didn’t take any clothes into the bathroom and took extra-long, by the time he had to get out, he acted like he was in a great hurry, leaving KAREN behind in his bathroom.

No AI had been installed in the compound itself yet. The update for FRIDAY hadn’t been Mr. Stark’s highest priority, since the accords were much more time sensitive.

Grinning, the teenager made his way over to his personal lab. The only reason KAREN wasn’t installed there was that he had set his mind on having Manuel in there as ‘Peter Parker’s’ AI while KAREN remained with Spiderman.

Ned was already at the entrance to his lab, vibrating with anticipation.

That came to no one’s surprise, the boy was even more excitable than Peter and that was no small feat.

Additionally: this compound was massive, and he had helped design it and the fricking Avengers would live here. That was worth getting excited for.

“Ouuuuuh! This looks already soo cool. Here and there is a bare wall butit’sallcommingtogether. I can’t believe I’m actually here” The almost forgot to breathe with all the eagerness to share his mood with his best friend.

It had been some time since they last met in person. Both of them had been fairly busy and the compound wasn’t exactly close by.

But even trough is excitement did the boy pick up on the worry in his host’s eyes. The faint bags under them didn’t make it better and now that he paid attention to it, he also saw the nervous twitch in his hands and the lack of pep in his friend’s strides.

Something wasn’t quite right; and he was gonna find out what it was.

“Good to see you too Ned.” Came his greeting when Peter had come close enough to be heard while speaking at a normal volume.

Ever since the two had become accustomed to his super hearing, Ned started talking the moment he could see the other, knowing he would have no trouble understanding him.

The image of an energetic puppy was nearly impossible to shake.

A faint smile stole its way onto his lips at that thought.

The first since he had noticed the illusion in the roof last night.

Just like that the smile was wiped off his face.

“Oh no.” the shorter of the two exclaimed. “I know that look. That look means bad news and nothing good ever follows bad news”

This statement was met with a dry chuckle. “Isn’t that kind of the point of bad news?”

“Maybe;” He replied. “Still doesn’t make it any better. But you tell me, you’re the one bringing the news after all.”

“Don’t shot the messenger though. That would help none of us.”

While they bantered, they had entered the lab and spread out a bit. Ned sitting down on an almost empty table; Peter walking around, pulling up holograms manually and occasionally putting away some scrap parts or tools.

“You know I couldn’t shoot you even if I wanted to. You psychic!” his best friend taunted

His answer was a theatrical gasp paired with the super teen laying a hand over his chest in the way his mentor always did. Bringing a grin to the other boy’s face.

“Enough joking around.” He announced, getting back to serious. “Whatever it is, Stark junior. I can take it.”

Clearly, he tried to keep the mood as light-hearted as he could, which didn’t go unappreciated.

Still. Peter couldn’t help his tone becoming a little sombre.

“I met someone yesterday.” He said “On patrol.”

He had settled down a little bit; leaning back onto a table, which automatically changed its hight to fit his needs. His Hands fidgeted with the hem of his science pun t-shirt.

Patiently; his friend waited.

“It was.. It wasn’t DareDevil. Instead... I met Loki.”

Only now did he take his eyes from the floor to look at his friend.

Quite clearly, he was in shock. Staring at the other, trying to figure out what to think about this revelation.

“Before you freak out: It was only an illusion, he is still in the dungeons of Asgard.” The super-teen tried to calm his friend down. Cringing at the thought of Loki’s location.

“oh. Yeah… That’s good right? He won’t come back?”

His concern was understandable for Peter. But he was also convinced, that the god meant no harm and was truly in need of help.

In that regard, was the sentiment of his friend not the most promising. Though he knew him well and was convinced that Ned would be on his side once he knew what they did to the god.

“That’s the thing.. It isn’t.”

A quizzical look from Ned.

“He sent his projection here to ask for help, which in itself speaks volume considering ho prideful he seemed to be; but that’s not the point. In Asgard, they treat him bad! Like   I whip your back bloody and sew your mouth shut bad.”

He gave his friend a few seconds to process the new information; all the while staring him in the eyes to make sure he knew that this wasn’t a crude prank or something.

“We need to help him..”

“Wait what now!?” Ned squeaked. “They did WHAT!??!”

“Exactly.” The hero answered. “He needs our help, Ned. We can so it’s our responsibility. The plan so far is that he contacts his mother and she brings him here to earth; Our only job is to find a place where he can stay…

That’s why I needed to talk to you because this has to be thought out and I need your second opinion.”

Peter waited for his friend’s response.

After a few seconds of silence his friend looked up.

“Okay… what’s your idea?”

It took a great load off his mind to know he wasn’t alone with his opinion. If Ned was agreeing this easily it meant that he at least wasn’t completely delusional in his opinion on helping the trickster out.

“You remember that storage room slash hideout thingy at the exit to the lake? If I were to hide the entrance to the bunker behind a closet, nobody would find it; Even if we show them the entrance or have to get something from there.”

Originally, they had planned to build in there a kind of vacation home. Until they realised that the compound itself was more than enough novelty, a vacation spot was not needed.

Instead, they had made it into a small bunker in case the compound was taken over and they needed a spot to regroup while waiting on evacuation.

“Wait. Just so we’re on the same page. You really try to keep this a secret from Stark?” the shorter tried to clarify.

“He would never believe Loki. We can’t tell anyone before he hasn’t completely healed. Then we will decide how to break it to the others” The brunette got a nod in response.

“The only problem is to figure out where I will get some additional furniture from.” He added.

“And how to get his food to him.” Ned commented.

They spend some time trying to figure everything out, until they settled on ordering everything they already had and could use for Loki’s room to be brought to the compound a second time

To the millionaire, they send a message, explaining that they had managed to break one of the desks while messing around and used the occasion to reorder some stuff which had either the wrong measurements or they had forgotten to order them in the first place.

Tony replied within a few minutes saying it was no problem.

That problem out of the way, Peter began to bring the selected stuff to the hidden room, while his friend began to build a small service robot, capable of navigating THE WIRES and transporting things.

Not even two hours later, the room was done and they both turned to developing some protocols for Manuel, making sure he would be able to keep the secret.

Unfortunately, Ned had to go before they were able to finish the AI.

His mother needed him to babysit his sister but they would meet again the next day and probably be ready to install Manuel at the end of the day.

*A character from the comics. If you don’t know him, you’ll see. Don’t want to spoil a potential surprise for you.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 - chapter 4 

[kyukun]

Shuichi Saltyhara (OumaSai)

i got a bit too carried away with this prompt so yEET!! BUt i HOPE YOU ENJOY ANON BC I KNOW I DID!! ❤❤

title: Shuichi Saltyhara

summary: Lately, Shuichi has been seeing Kokichi hang out a lot more with Komaeda. He isn't sure why but… he can't help but feel a bit left out. 

word count: 1781

~~ prompt starts after cut! ~~

Shuichi gripped the book he held in his hands tightly. He couldn't even manage to focus his shifty eyes on the pages in front of him, and the more he stared at the words on the various pages, the less sense they made. He was acting so childish. Immature. Unlike him.

 But… he couldn't simmer down his mind.

 Thoughts had begun to fester the more he stared at the two. They were so similar it was almost disgusting. 

 At first, he had ditched him to go study with Komaeda. Then he did it again but during the weekends. And now, he had reached his boiling point. Even at school he was being discarded like a half eaten apple left to rot. 

 His heart would practically jump out of his chest if he were even a few feet away from the trickster, even more so when he was centimeters away. He knew Kokichi was a rather touchy person, clingy even. What he didn't like however was how much he had been touching Komaeda, or vice versa.

 Again, he honestly was disgusted with himself by how much he had been drawing his attention to the pair and less on his studies. Even yesterday, at around nine or ten in the morning during third period, Kokichi was laughing a lot with Komaeda. About what exactly? Who the hell knows.

 He just didn't like it.

 Regardless, his state of mind had left him in a state of both bewilderment and tensility. Why did he care so much with who Kokichi associated himself with? And why the hell did it bother him so much? It's not like he liked Kokichi or anything. No, he didn't. Not at all.

 Even knowing that (or at least convincing himself that that was the case,) he still couldn't drain away the feeling of… being replaced? He wasn't sure. Komaeda had been sitting at the desk beside Kokichi and they had been laughing secretly the entire lunch period.

 He could feel his own temperature rising. Kokichi was always all over him. While he acted as though it annoyed him (which was part of the truth,) it's not like he minded it. But now that Kokichi seemed to be doing the same things he did with Shuichi to Komaeda, he felt threatened almost?

 For what reason?

 They were just friends.

 They weren't dating nor was Shuichi interested in Kokichi. So… why was he dwelling over this for so long? 

 "Ko-chan, you really are funny! I haven't laughed this hard in ages!" Kokichi giggled, his laughter burning through Shuichi's ears. It was as if he was laughing loud on purpose just so it would piss Shuichi off. Either way, it was working. 

 "Aha, you think so? Everyone always says I'm weird…"

 "Are you kidding?! Hey, hey, when you get famous for being funny, make sure you remember me. And when I take over the world, I'll do you a solid and spare ya!" The smaller teen triumphed, crossing both his arms as a snarky grin crossed his lips. "Okay. I'll be sure to remember you, Kokichi."

 "Promise?" Kokichi innocently stuck out his pinky finger while his thin legs swung back and forth in his chair, his other arm dropping down on his cold desk. Komaeda stared down at the tiny offering before intertwining his own around the slender pinky, a small blush crossed his face as he smiled. "Promise."

 Shuichi rolled his eyes as the scene unraveled in front of him. Gross. He gagged at their exchange, grossed out by their stupid promise. Their fingers lingered for way too long. He didn't like it. He needed to do something to interrupt it.

 To make Komaeda stay away from Kokichi. 

 He shut his book harshly, causing those left in the classroom to glance at him as his eyebrows furrowed in frustration and anger. Komaeda and Kokichi blinked at the teen, their fingers drifting apart slowly. "Are you okay, Saihara-chan? You seem kind of pissed. Did the ending of that book make you real mad or something?"

 "I'm fine," he said a tad too harsh for his own taste. "I just wanted to go buy some bread." He stood from his seat, setting his book down on his desk as his eyes remained closed. He pushed in his chair and opened his eyes, glaring straight at Komaeda the minute they fluttered open. 

 "Lot of anger for some bread." Kokichi pointed out, a knowing smile plastered on his lips as he now stood up. "Let me go with you."

 "No." 

 Ah, that was way too quick.

 "No?"

 Well shit. Why couldn't he talk now?

 He glanced over and saw Komaeda fucking staring at Kokichi from behind. It was as if he were devouring him with his eyes; undressing him with his very eyes the more he stared at his body frame. Oh how much he wanted to just snatch Kokichi away from him so badly. "Actually," He grabbed his hand.

 "Come with me." His expression was rough, but his eyes were soft and dough like. Kokichi, a bit confused yet intrigued, nodded and walked out of the classroom. Shuichi soon did the same after, leaving Komaeda even more confused as to why Shuichi kept glaring at him as if he had taken something away from him.

 Eh, it'll work itself out.

 Kokichi had his hands behind his head and his gaze straight ahead, unmoving and calm. Shuichi still couldn't stomach the thoughts that mercilessly plagued his mind. Seriously, what was up with him today? He fiddled with his fingers while Kokichi's small shoulders rose and fell with the rhythm of his own breathing. 

 Kokichi couldn't help but notice how quiet Shuichi had gotten. While yes he normally was quiet, this seemed odd even for him. He cocked an eyebrow upward, quickly shooting the timid boy behind him a glance. "Saihara-chan." The smaller boy stopped in his tracks, which had also caused Shuichi to come to a halt as well.

 Kokichi turned, now facing the flushed male. "Saihara-chan," He repeated. "Are you okay? You seem really out of it today. Are you angry?" The questions boggled his own mind, his heart twisting and turning at every word that he spoke. He was wondering those things about himself, too. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

 "I dunno. You looked angry at Komaeda-chan and I." And it was at that sentence alone, he could feel himself physically twitch and the sound of his name. This had caught the attention of Kokichi who was skeptical from the start of Shuichi's interests but now he felt like he understood. So Komaeda was the person to blame for this, huh?

 "I-I'm not…"

 Oh, but you are. You are so incredibly angry at how close Komaeda and Kokichi are. You just don't want to admit it. 

 He ignored his malevolent thoughts and pressed through anyway. "Well, you're angry at something. You know I don't like liars!"

 "That's a lie… Kokichi can you just—can you hear me out for a sec?"

 "Sure!" Just before he could even speak a word, Komaeda could be heard running down the halls with a paper in hand. "Kokichi! I need your help with this really quick." Komaeda panted, placing both his hands on his knees as he took deep breaths. 

 He didn't like this. He was slipping away from him already. Not this time. "He's busy." Shuichi interjected, placing himself in front of Kokichi with a stern look plastered on his face. He was at a loss for words. He's never seen Shuichi so angry before. He's usually passive about things. He can stand up for himself and his friends, sure, but this outburst seemed so unlike him.

 "Oh… Is that true?" Komaeda shared a glance with Kokichi who seemed a tad bit worried. This pissed Shuichi off even more. "N-no—I mean, yes but no—"

 Shuichi had enough. He pulled Kokichi away and dragged him down the stairs. The grip on his wrist hurt, but not enough to where it bothered Kokichi. His purple eyes stared into the back of his head, trying to figure out what exactly what was up with him. "Saihara-chan…"

 They had reached the bottom of the stairs, Shuichi had briefly pinned Kokichi against the wall while his fingers unraveled themselves from his wrist. "Kokichi, what's wrong with me?" His grey eyes sawed through his own, a serious yet pained expression took over his face. He continued, "Ever since you started hanging out with Komaeda, I've been feeling… tense, weird… Like something inside is bothering me but I don't know what."

 His heart had begun speeding up. 

 "I don't… I don't like the way that you laugh and smile at him. It's childish, I know. I don't feel like you need me around anymore if you have Komaeda." His words came out a lot better than he had anticipated. He spoke as though Kokichi wasn't there but he was. He tried to speak his mind and his heart to his best ability, trying to make sense of his own feelings while also rationalizing them. "I don't like that I feel this way. I mean, we're friends aren't we? I should be happy you have other friends who cherish you. Yet… I don't want to share. I don't want to share you, Kokichi."

 Ah, so he did feel the same.

 Kokichi had been wondering if he had felt the same, and he certainly did. Albeit, he just let out a very confused confession, but he'll take it. 

 His heart leaped for joy, giggles pouring out of his lips which made Shuichi tilt his head slightly in confusion. "What's so funny?"

 "Saihara-chan, are you jealous of Nagito-chan?"

 Jealous? He was jealous? Of Komaeda?

 "I don't know. Am I? I'm sorry, I don't mean to make our friendship awkward or anything I just—"

 "Shuichi."

 He froze, "D-did you just…"

 "I did. Shuichi, I like you. And I think, at least from what you're describing, you feel the same."

 Oh. Oh. 

 Oh shit.

 "Oh fuck…" He cursed at the sudden realization. Idiot.

 "If I'm wrong, you can refuse this and walk away and forget it ever happened." He gripped Shuichi by his collar, forcibly dragging their faces closer. He could feel his own face heaten up, as well as Kokichi's face growing red as well. He didn't pull away. He didn't. And their lips touched, and god did it feel fucking amazing. It was like he had awoken his third eye or something.

 Magical.

 "So?" Kokichi asked, their lips parting.

 "You're right. I do like you."

 Little did either of them know that Hajime and Komaeda were right behind the stairs, enjoying every last minute. They were happy parents. 

[aggressivelyclueless]

Storytime

prompted by @browa123 "the book Jack got instead of a pony" Words: 6435 Warning: mildly spooky but that's about it

      It was late, and Maddie had already gone to bed.  Jack still had a lot of work to do, but he knew that it would have to wait until tomorrow.  He stuffed as many parts as he could back into a storage box, and tossed the box up on the top shelf along with all the other projects he'd promptly forgotten about.  He shut the fluorescent lights off, yawned, and then shuffled upstairs.  His body was tired, but his mind was still abuzz; nights like this, he thought, made for good bedtime reading.       Fortunately, he had just the thing for that.  It sat up on top of the bookshelf in the living room, and with some difficulty he pulled it down.  It was by far the heaviest book in the house, and he set it down on the couch and went to grab a soda and make himself comfortable.  He remembered with fondness the day he'd gotten it; he'd turned twelve, and had puzzled for most of the afternoon about what could be in that enormous package on the table.  He'd stacked all his other presents on top of it so that he could save it for last, and he hadn't been disappointed.  John Fenton-Nightingale's Daunting Text of Unearthly Anomalies and Mystical Oddities, the cover had read when he'd pulled the paper off.  Nevermind the fact that he hadn't been able to lift the thing - he was over the moon, and had spent the next six weeks chewing through it one chapter at a time.       Those were the days when you just went out and caught ghosts, Jack thought to himself as he grabbed the blanket from the couch and tossed it over himself.  The lamp on the end table clicked on, and he pulled the massive book onto his lap.  Its pages were soft around the edges from years of use, and most of them were dog-eared.  He pulled the front cover open, and absently began flipping through the pages.  The book seemed to read his mind; it flipped to the first page of his favorite chapter, and Jack grinned.  This book knows me so well.

Excerpt from chapter seventeen, J.F.N.'s Daunting Text, unabridged

     In all the years that I have devoted to the meticulous study and record of the strange world of the supernatural, few items have held as much interest as the gateways to the world itself.  I have only ever seen one with my own eyes, and I regret that I had neither the time nor the tools to study it properly.  I can say this, however, with certainty: it appeared a puzzling and ethereal green, flat like a portrait that might hang on the wall or over a fireplace, but there appeared from it a creature like no other.  I refer, of course, to the Viscous Anomaly (described in detail in chapter twelve), and if it were not for the malevolent specter, I may have been able to study the gateway from whence it came.  Alas, the anomaly attacked me on sight, and I was forced to engage with it as the gateway slowly faded away behind it. Recent research has been conclusive, however, that...

      Jack frowned.  Why was this his favorite chapter again?  He skipped ahead a few pages, finding a fully detailed sketch of the gateway the author had seen.  Ah, yes, that was it.  The portal in the basement looked a lot like it, except without the metal frame and control panels and such.  According to Nightingale, these just appeared sometimes; Jack hoped to find one someday.  Wouldn't that be cool, he thought.  He stared at the sketch a minute longer, and then flipped back to his other favorite chapter.

Excerpt from chapter three, J.F.N.'s Daunting Text, unabridged

     I remember with the utmost clarity the first time I had ever seen a ghost.  At the time, I was eight years old.  My father's father had passed away of the pox, and there was to be a funeral for him the following week.  It was the third night after his passing when he returned; he was but a ghastly shadow in the corner of my bedroom, and I may not have noticed him at all if it weren't for the fact that he glowed most ominously!  He barely possessed a form at all - it was as if he had pressed himself into the corner of the ceiling, and he glared at me with two round red eyes!  I admit with some embarrassment that I had let out a shriek at the sight of him, not knowing at the time that he was my late grandfather, and had slept in my mother's room that night.       He returned to me the next evening, this time appearing slowly.  When I saw him, he dared even to speak!  He spoke - this I remember very clearly indeed! - telling me, "Calm, child.  'Tis I, Matthew Nightingale, and I shall not harm you."       What a fool I was to believe him!  He had no sooner spoken of his benevolence than he crashed through each and every piece of furniture in my room, cackling madly!  I had known him in life to be somewhat of a trickster, but this was less a trick and more a mean-spirited and cruel stunt!       It was then that I swore to exact my vengeance on him, and all that were like him.  The realm of the dead, I discovered, was not entirely separate from the world of the living.  I began to do what little research that I could, compiling as many notes as I could, but it was too little to be able to form any proper defense for the horrible spirit that had crawled into our home.       Over the next weeks, my departed grandfather destroyed more and more of our house, and we were forced to move to one across the city to escape him...

      Jack was heartbroken.  The poor boy - only eight, and already being pushed around by ghosts!  He knew how the story ended, of course, and elected to skip the pages in the middle detailing the prolonged suffering in Nightingale's teenage years.  Jack knew the ending almost by heart, but read it anyway, silently rooting for him the entire time.

...it was on my seventeenth birthday that I acquired the final piece to exorcise the poltergeist of my grandfather from my old home.  My mother fretted when I told her what my plans were regarding the issue, but I remained staunch and undeterred.  I collected everything I needed in a modest canvas satchel, donned my favorite hat at the time (alas, I do miss that hat dearly, but that's another story), and assured my worried mother that I would return after midnight.       As I approached the house, I knew that the spirit's power had grown steadily since the first time I saw it.  The yard outside was dry and dead, and the same ethereal green emanated from each of the front windows.  I remember thinking it was almost as if the house itself had come alive, but I know that's impossible.  The wooden gate hung open, and I made my determined way up the front path to the door.  It swung open for me as I was about to open it for myself, and the front hall was almost completely dark.       I lit myself a candle to see, and made my way into the house.  All the memories from my childhood came back to me in broken fragments, and seeing the rooms where I once played in such disrepair was disheartening.  Nonetheless, I crept silently up the stairs to my former bedroom.  That was the place where the poltergeist had first manifested, and I knew that was where it would be defeated.       My late grandfather seemed, somehow, to know that I'd be coming.  I remember how he'd stared at me - it was as if he was so confident in his abilities that he didn't even consider me a threat to his dominance over the house!  "Child," said he, "Surely you came knowing your demise was assured?  I do not fear you."       He should have feared me!  I set to work at once preparing the ritual for the exorcism - allow me to illustrate the steps, in the event that this information might be useful to anyone suffering a similar ghastly affliction:       The first and most important step: be sure to keep the offending entity distracted adequately enough that he does not interfere with the beginning stages of the ritual.  That can be achieved in any manner!  Each spirit is different, and has its own weakness.  In the case of my grandfather, he was alarmingly susceptible to fits of hysteria, especially after I told him that I was going to make a living with this work, and that I'd put spooks like him to shame!       The second step, which is also very important: draw a circle in white chalk upon the floor, and use red chalk to mark eight corners.  Draw a star between them.  Use one drop of Nightingale's Elixir of Exorcisms (detailed in chapter twenty-seven) to mark the corners as well.  This will keep the poltergeist from fleeing the house in the event that you cannot capture it right away! The third step: under no circumstances should you step outside of your circle!  Spread your blood salt (also detailed in chapter twenty-seven) around the perimeter of the circle.  When it begins to glow, you know you have used an ample amount!  From here henceforth, do not step outside the circle under any circumstances!       The fourth step: recite the curse which applies the most directly to the circumstances of your haunting (see the table in chapter twenty-five for a more detailed explanation).  If you have the correct chant, your circle should glow brighter; if it turns white, you have pronounced everything correctly!  If, however, it quits at once, or slowly dims, or turns a ghastly green, you should probably run and come back when you are more adequately prepared.       The fifth step: do not move away from your circle!  When you have completed your curse, stand perfectly still.  If it appears that the poltergeist is unaffected, do not move!  Sometimes, as I learned, the mystic forces behind the curse take a moment to come into effect.  No matter what the spirit says, or how threatening he is, remain still!  I cannot stress this enough!  He will vanish off the face of the earth, and you will be able to tell because the furniture floating around you will drop out of the air, and the grave laughter will cease, and the candle in your hand will be blown out by some mysterious ghostly wind.  Only when it is silent will it be safe to relight the candle.       It was the first victory of my career, and I remember exactly how chuffed I was that it had been such a brilliant success.  The house never sold after that, however, since it had been known for almost a decade to be "irredeemably and completely haunted," but I knew that the evil within it had been vanquished.  I returned to my mother, and boldly explained what had transpired.  She was too proud of me to speak!

      Jack swelled with pride.  Every time he read the story, it touched him in a way that little else could.  To think that he had the heroic Nightingale blood in his own veins!  He thought, with some jealousy, that it might have been more adventurous in the old days.  Ghost hunting was one of the most important jobs in the world, but it didn't carry quite the same air of mystery that it used to.  That was part of what made books like this so much fun to read.  People actually used to live like that!  How exciting!       He skipped over the next few chapters of Nightingale's autobiography.  He'd spent a handful of early years in the oldest towns in Europe, hoping to find ancient ghosts of any sort.  It hadn't worked out for him; it took him a while to get established as a reputable expert of the paranormal, and it was more fun to read about his successes than his struggles anyway.  He flipped forward a fair amount before pausing on another one of the full-page sketches.  This was of one of the ghastly entities that he encountered several times, and considered his lifelong foe: The Hanged One, a shadowy devil that hung in the air as if from a gallows, no matter whether there was a gallows present or not.  Jack could only stand to look at the sketch for so long before turning the page; something about the blank-red eyes or the wispy edges of the thing unsettled him.  He was grateful that ghosts didn't look like that anymore.  Most of the ones that he'd come across had been variations of green.  That was the color a ghost was supposed to be, he thought to himself with a little nod.       He flipped another few pages, remembering the chapter when Nightingale had first met the Hanged One.  That one always spooked Jack, and he considered whether or not he wanted to get any sleep later.  He decided that it was fine.  He'd read a couple of the fun chapters afterward.

Excerpt from chapter five, J.F.N.'s Daunting Text, unabridged

     It had been six months since I had opened my newest machining shoppe in a scarce-known settlement called Amity Forest.  It's the perfect little hamlet - I'm quite certain of this! - and the quiet has allowed me to perform all sorts of experiments that I was unable to before.  The first day that I arrived, I admit that I had been rather dubious, but my doubts have long since been laid to rest.  Why, I thought, I may just settle down and build myself a little house, if only I knew how to build houses!       How fortunate for me that there was a little house for sale already!  Of course, I had plenty of funds to spare from my wandering days in the abandoned towns of Italy, and after sailing back to the New World I thought that I may settle down for good!  I think, in retrospect, that I may, perhaps, have been better off with some foresight of where I was headed.  Amity Forest is a wonderful little town at first glance, but the time I've spent here has allowed me far more glances than just one.  I am forced to admit that I may be in over my head.       It was the first week after I had finalized the purchase of the house.  I was very much at home already, and I had been in a good mood since my first night in a new bed.  I came home one sunny afternoon, having been in town for errands regarding this-or-that, when I felt the eyes of a mysterious spirit upon me.  I turned, hoping to catch even a glimpse of such a specter, and that was when I saw it.  It appeared as if it was a shadow cast by something else entirely, but the shadow itself appeared in the shape of a hanged man, with a bent neck and dangling limbs.  Its head was faceless - faceless, except for two burning eyes, which fixed themselves upon me and stared, unblinking.  The shadow turned slowly this way and that way, as if there could have even been something holding it up, and even as its head tilted, its eyes remained fixed upon mine.       I admit that I'd been so utterly afraid in that moment that I'd turned and run back up the path and into my new home.  I'd locked the door behind me, and only then did I regain my senses.  A shadowy specter, haunting the very woods in which I lived?  John Nightingale fears nothing of the sort!  I set to work immediately to rid myself of such a haunt, staying up much later into the night than I had anticipated, and being most thorough in the placement of spectral deterrents around the perimeter of the house.  I slept soundly that night, assured that the defenses that I put in place were impenetrable!       After that, the shadowy anomaly in the woods utterly and completely slipped my mind.  I turned my attention to my newest book, John Nightingale's Book of Ghosts (it has since been completed, and is in the process of publication as I write this new book, An Autobiography by John Nightingale.  I suspect that this project will be ongoing for quite some time, and may be the last of my works to be published), and for two days afterwards I was quite happy alone.       I discovered on the third day that I was not, as I had thought, alone.  I had only seen the anomaly once thus far, and it had been well outside of the yard.  Imagine my surprise when I came upon it for the second time, and it was hanging over my garden!  I admit, it had been very late when I saw it, and the candles had burned almost to the end so it was very dark, but I know there was no mistaking it.  It was the very same specter - of this, I have the utmost certainty.  Its red eyes were always fixed upon mine, no matter how I moved or which way it turned as it dangled in the air, and although it said nothing - not even a horrible ghostly wail! - it made its intentions clear.       It was in that moment, as I stared, transfixed, at the ghoul outside my window, that I came to an important realization.  This was no mere spook, nor a haunt, nor even a poltergeist.  This was, in the most awful sense of the word, a revenant.  I could hardly believe that I had been afflicted by such a thing - and how?  Revenants could only be brought to the realm of the living by way of a direct summoning ritual, and there was no one that I knew of in my life that could possibly have loathed me enough to set one upon me!       I knew that the defenses I had set around the house were inadequate.  This was no longer a matter of deterring an entity - this was going to be a battle outright, and I had precious little time to prepare.  At once, I tossed aside my books and my notes, making as much room as I could to concoct a new, more potent blood salt.  I was certain that it would take everything I had - both in experience and in weaponry - to defeat a monster such as a revenant, and I could afford to waste not a second of precious time.       For the entirety of that night, the thing stared at me through my front window.  Every time I looked back, I fully expected it to have disappeared, only to reappear in the bedroom, or hanging from one of the beams in the hall.  It vanished only when the sun began to rise, and I was finally allowed to collapse in exhaustion.       For the next two nights I worked tirelessly in an effort to properly defend myself for the next time the revenant appeared.  It wasn't until the next day after that, when I paid a visit to the library in the village, that I happened upon mention of the revenant.  It's called The Hanged One by most of the people who live here, and it has vanquished at least a dozen witch-hunters prior to myself.  If I was to believe what the historical records told me, it would strike again on the night of the new moon.  At the time, I had nine days to prepare.       I have found out since then that the Hanged One is no normal occurrence of a revenant.  It has not, as far as I can tell, been summoned by anyone, and all of my attempts to thwart its terror have failed.  I have not ever seen it inside my house, but I wonder if my defenses would hold if it decided to enter.  The question still lingers in the back of my mind, in every waking moment: am I to become just another in the list of victims to such an entity?

      Jack shuddered.  He regretted, almost immediately, that he'd reread this particular portion of the autobiography.  He could almost see the spirit, rendered as it had been in the sketch, lurking in any shadow of the house.  Why did he do this to himself?  He'd tried once to calm himself by skipping to the chapter where Nightingale fights back the Hanged One, but that hadn't made him feel any better.  He knew exactly how the story ended - which is to say, it hadn't, even after it had destroyed his house in Amity Forest and forced him to move away to Salem.  Nightingale had never fully banished the Hanged One before the day he died.  In theory, it could still be out there somewhere.       He flipped back to the page with the sketch, making the knot of fear in his stomach twist before he couldn't bear it and looked away.  Why do you do this to yourself, Jack?  He turned forward, past the end of the autobiography, and set his attention instead on a chapter cataloguing most of the more standard ghosts.  This was more familiar territory for Jack; these were the kinds of ghosts that he'd been able to catch, and he tried to set his mind at ease.

Excerpt from chapter ten, J.F.N.'s Daunting Text, unabridged

     In my travels, I have encountered several different kinds of otherworldly anomalies, and have spent years researching and cataloguing them.  Here, I present the fullest extent of the knowledge of my findings so far.  If, in the future, I am able to compile a more complete list, I shall be certain to have published an updated and revised version of this book.  If John Nightingale's Book of Ghosts: Revised is seen in the shoppes, do be sure to purchase a copy!       There are, of course, several categories of ghostly anomalies.  "Ghost," although a term that is applicable to most categories if only in the technical way, is used by experts such as myself to refer to one specific type of entity.  Fear not!  They will all be described in detail.       Creeps - barely on the scale at all.  They are usually only seen out of the periphery of one's vision.  It took me several days to even be able to capture one for study, but after several attempts I was able to hold one in a glass jar.  My conclusion is that Creeps are very difficult to capture because they aren't scary enough - or powerful enough - to be any more than a common nuisance.  They also seem to be unusually shy, and would rather escape and hide than cause any sort of ruckus or mayhem, no matter how small.       Spooks - generally known as "things that go bump in the night."  Spooks are almost as harmless as Creeps; I say "almost" because, while they are equally shy, they will not hesitate to knock over anything left out on a high shelf, or turn hanging portraits upside-down, or cause meat to spoil.  Spooks will flee once their antics are noticed, however, and are rarely caught in the act.  If you are quick enough to catch a Spook, there is a very obvious way to identify it.  They appear very similar to Creeps, but there is a key difference.  Does it have teeth?  It's a Spook!       Ghosts - generally mistaken for Spooks (or, rather, Spooks are often called Ghosts).  They will often cause moderate disturbances within one's home, but my newest research indicates that they may not be fully aware of their actions.  Ghosts are, in most cases, among the least intelligent paranormal entities to exist.  They will often wander through walls or windows as if they aren't there at all, and on more than one occasion I have had to shoo them away from my important research because they kept making such a mess of my notes!  The most important thing about these lower classes of entity, however, is that they can all be avoided very easily!  A modest line of even low-potency blood salt around the perimeter of your home should be sufficient to deter any and all of these paranormal entities.       Spirits - by far the most common sightings.  Spirits can even answer questions if properly persuaded!  Although not horribly powerful, Spirits do seem to possess willpower and are capable of returning to the same place several times, even if caught and released elsewhere.  Unlike Ghosts, Spirits tend to gravitate toward one person specifically, although the reasons for that remain unknown.  If you are, or think you are, being followed by a Spirit, the easiest remedy is to bury a rabbit under your front door.  Spirits will be unable to follow you into your house, and after a few days they won't even know that the house even exists!       Specters - much more devious than Ghosts and Spirits.  Specters are capable of appearing whole - whether or not they resemble a man is entirely dependent on the specimen, and they tend to cause mayhem deliberately, rather than by chance.  More direct than Spooks and Spirits, Specters will often leave faucets running, lock doors from the inside, and hide valuables or important items.  Specters are among the most persistent of any category, and can reappear - sometimes within hours - after even moderately advanced banishment spells.  If a specter is terrorizing a household or person (it should be noted that they seem to have no preference over their target), they can only be dissuaded by one of two things.  The first is a potent and routinely-maintained spray of Nightingale's Ectoplasmic Repellant, applied generously over the front door of the afflicted house.  For best results, reapply at sunrise for ten days.  The second - stronger but less readily accessible - solution is to cover all four posts of the afflicted person's bed in solid gold.  Gold, as a metal, resists any and all corrosion; this makes it a powerful deterrent for multiple categories of spectral anomalies.       Ghasts - these malevolent beings are almost always tied to a specific item.  Dolls - especially really creepy ones - are sought out as habitable spaces for Ghasts, and they are more clever than even most witch-hunters give them credit for!  In order to determine whether an item is within a Ghast's possession, leave it tied to a hefty brick at the bottom of a tub of water.  Come back the next morning; if the item in question has been afflicted, the Ghast will have untied it and removed it from the water.  Ghasts, although incapable of direct contact with the realm of the living, are more than willing to cause disruptions around the house.  Mysterious disappearances of pets or small children may be attributed to a Ghast - this is especially dangerous because small children's dolls are often the most susceptible to their devilish clutches!  Fortunately, there is a very simple way to rid a household or company of a Ghast!  Simply take the affected item and throw it off a cliff!       Haunts - one of the more severe paranormal afflictions.  Haunts will settle into a certain place, and are usually tied to a specific tragedy or event.  Victims of disasters, for example, will often return as haunts and affect their previous home, or the place of the disaster.  Haunts can be especially violent!  The utmost care must be taken in disposing of them, and that task should be left to those who are properly trained!  Haunts may, before they have adequate time to sink into a building, keep to the shadows, or possibly present themselves as Spooks or Ghosts.  If the remedies for any of the lower-class phenomena have no effect, there is a high chance that a Haunt is actually at fault.  If funds are short, or if one wishes to banish a Haunt as a test of their own abilities, there is a way to accomplish it.  Nightingale's Elixir of Exorcism should be used in conjunction with the Aint Afraidus No Ghostus banishment spell - but, do be careful!  As an added precaution, I personally recommend carrying a vial of Nightingale Emergency Arsenic in the event that a Haunt may attack directly.  Get it in the eyes!  They hate that!       Ghouls - able not only to appear in full form, but also to manifest physically almost anywhere after dark.  Ghouls are among the most aggressive categories of paranormal phenomenon, and can injure man and beast alike.  Characterized by gaping mouths and sharpened claw-like fingers, Ghouls are a terrifying menace even at first sight!  Unfortunately, there are few things on this earth that can destroy them, save for sunlight; a well-lit room is also a very difficult place for a Ghoul to manifest, and it can be one of the only places safe from such a terror in the night-time hours.  No attempts should be made to remove or otherwise evict a Ghoul without a professional witch-hunter present!  They are easily aggravated and can cause horrible damage in seconds!  Ghouls, Poltergeists, and Revenants may be deterred with household items, but such a solution will be only temporary and professional help is necessary to be rid of them.  In the case of an emergency, a Ghoul may be placated by prolonged music, but failure to properly entrance it could be disastrous.       Poltergeists - one of the most dangerous categories of ghostly occurrence.  Poltergeists attach themselves to homes or buildings and will attack the living on sight.  The best course of action, if confronted with a Poltergeist affliction, is to run!  Staying in the same house as a Poltergeist even for a few days is extremely dangerous, and they will not hesitate to destroy any and all earthly possessions left within their grasp.       Revenants - the most powerful of all paranormal forces.  Revenants are exceedingly rare, fortunately; they can only be called upon by an exceptionally advanced summoning ritual, and once set loose they cannot be controlled.  A Revenant will attach itself to the accursed target, and will stop at nothing until they are destroyed.  Only a handful of successful Revenant summonings have ever been recorded in history; only once has such a thing been defeated.  If you find yourself unlucky enough to be at the mercy of a Revenant, my only advice is this: pray.

      Jack paused.  He'd been hoping that he'd be able to get a decent amount of sleep, but the tale of the Hanged One was still stuck in his head.  He sighed.  He really did do this to himself.  Maybe if he crawled into bed with Maddie he'd feel better.  The silence of the house at night was unsettling, and he was certain that if he stayed down in the living room too long he'd find himself face-to-shadow with the Hanged One, or maybe some other ghastly apparition from the book.  He turned back down to the pages before him.  He'd give this one more shot.  He flipped to yet another chapter, although his hopes weren't particularly high, and tried one last time to distract himself.

Excerpt from chapter thirty-three, J.F.N.'s Daunting Text, unabridged

      I remember the last season I grew petunias - I've since dug them up in favor of a larger plot of bloodflowers - and I must say that I do miss them.  They grow very well in the warm summers here, and they carry a rather pleasant scent without overpowering the air.  I must make a note of caution, however: none love petunias more than bees and wasps!  The best time to prune them is very early in the morning, before such insects can be seen crawling about on them.  I have been stung many times over a summer when I have forgotten this!       Bloodflowers, on the other hand, are very peculiar plants indeed.  They earn their name because of their dark red petals, and because of the fact that, unlike all other plants I know of, they refuse even the richest soil.  The first year I planted them in the garden, they'd all withered in ten days.  I tried again, and this time kept them well-watered, but to no avail.  I had heard that they were somewhat tricky to grow, but surely it had something to do with my soil, and not with me!       As it turned out, it had everything to do with my soil.  Bloodflowers are unusual plants in many ways; I discovered after several failed attempts to cultivate them that they will only grow if a small piece of meat is buried in the garden every few weeks.  The reason for this - at least to my knowledge - is unknown.  I learned it from the seller who's been providing me with the cuttings, and one night I thought I may as well give it a try.  I kept a few scraps left-over from dinner, and planted them as I would any other seedling.  I must admit, it felt quite silly - as if I could perhaps grow a chicken like that! - but the results were simply astonishing.       The bloodflowers in my garden prefer chicken to pork, although I'm uncertain if all do, and once I began to provide the correct environment they grew like any other plant.  Their blooms are particularly interesting; they grow white buds, and only when the blossoms open up do they suddenly take on their red hue.  I have only seen this happen once, and it is such a spectacular occurrence that I know I shall never forget it.  The flower bloomed, as flowers do, and the red color appeared on the petals as if the center had been pricked and bled into them.  It takes only seconds to stain them, and only then do they gain their multiple intriguing qualities.       I had been hesitant, at first, to believe that such a thing existed.  One flower, capable of repelling all manner of ghosts, witches, and even the devil himself?  Surely, that must be a grand hyperbole!  Only when I began cultivating them did I realize how powerful they are, and they have become an important ingredient in many of my most potent elixirs.  It's said - and I cannot wait to behold this for myself - that their scent alone is enough to cause a spirit harm, and it is in that hope that I've planted so many.  The Hanged One has been vacant from my yard since I began this venture; that encourages me to believe a fuller extent of their mysterious properties.       I have used them in the preparation of a relatively simple yet spectacularly versatile substance - the blooms, when picked and dried, can be ground with rock salt and beetle wings into a fine red powder.  Blood salt, as I have named the substance, can be used in a wide variety of circumstances; it dissolves into warm water very easily, and I've sold many samples of John Nightingale's Devil Poison already.  Surely, if an evil spirit masquerades as a living man, it would be revealed in an instant if the concoction was slipped into a glass of wine!  It should be noted, however, that I have yet to find proof of this, as there are no spirits in my home at all, much less any strong enough to present themselves as living men in order for me to put my suspicions to the test.       How fortunate for me that I have become so successful at cultivating these plants!  I've done my best to make use of the leaves as well, but their only purpose as far as I am aware is to fill my basket of clippings and be thrown out into the woods with the stems.  Only the blooms are of any use to me, and so I have kept the garden outside my window where the stout little bushes have flourished.  I have noticed, too, that the wasps dislike them almost as much as the ghosts do - that, in my opinion, is a fortunate thing indeed!       I had planted the petunias again, very closely against the bloodflowers, in the hopes that they would remain free of pests and insects.  They appeared to be free of them, and I was glad for it.  Gone are the days of being stung trying to pick a pretty flower!  They can now be gathered in peace, and I've made plans already to produce and sell John Nightingale's Wasp-Repelling Powder which can be used by gardeners who have had the same horrible luck as I have...

      Jack yawned.  His eyes fell out of focus for a moment, and he nearly nodded off.  He caught himself, snorted, and blinked a few times; he really should be in bed, he thought, and he shut the book on his lap in an effort to convince himself not to fall asleep on the couch.  Right.  Sleep.  Upstairs.  He pulled himself up to his feet, the Daunting Text still in both hands, and set it back up on the top shelf.  He yawned again, somewhat satisfied.  At least the Hanged One had gone from his mind, and he'd be able to sleep.  He thought of the adventurous John Fenton-Nightingale as he shuffled upstairs.  He'd read the story about how he met his wife in the morning.  Emilia Madeline Fenton was her name, and Jack thought that she must have been the most beautiful woman in the world.  Nightingale spent an entire chapter of his autobiography fawning over her; they'd married after only a year, and they'd been inseparable and happy for the rest of their lives.       Jack crept into his room.  Maddie was fast asleep - she probably had been for at least an hour - and he tried his best not to wake her as he slid into bed.  She half-woke anyway, mumbling something about what time is it? but not protesting too much about it.  She stretched out somewhat, drifting back off again almost immediately, and went quiet again.       Jack draped an arm around her, smiling.  His tiredness began to overtake him in an instant; her scent was comfort, and everything slowly melted away into dreams.  He dreamt of John Fenton-Nightingale, and all the adventures he had; he dreamt of scientific breakthroughs and spectacular ghost-catching feats; he dreamt of his beloved Maddie, and in that moment he was truly happy.

[eternityunicorn]

Elijah’s Eternity: New Orleans - Part Twenty One

Author: eternityunicorn 

Genre: Romance/Drama/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Warnings: Violance, Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

Summary: Sequel to the AU Elijah’s Eternity - Ten years have passed, a mournful Elijah has finally started to move on without his lady. In that time, he has gained a reunited family and has also found a new lady love. Yet, all is not well as danger comes for the smallest member of the Mikaelson family: Hope, and it prompts Niklaus to call upon the white goddess, drawing her back into Elijah’s life. As they reunite, can Elijah really say he’s truly moved on?

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

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The Kirin Shrine was a well hidden place, deep within the forests of Mount Kurama. There was a great, long staircase that lead up the modest place of worship that doubled as Kaname’s home, and at the top of the stairs was the large red torii gate that one had to pass through to get to the shrine. Beyond that was the water basin where worshipers would purify themselves before going on to the main building of the shrine to pray to the gods. 

Though this was the traditional use of a Shinto shrine, Kaname’s home wasn’t quite a place of worship. No, that was only a cover. Instead, Eternity’s cousin secretly helped the desperate, whom dared to make the long and dangerous journey to the shrine, in order to ask her, sometimes plead with her, to heal their illnesses or even resurrect their dead. The latter was something that the miko reserved for any children brought to her by grieving parents, who took a great risk to even bring the corpses to the Kirin Shrine.

Kaname told Elijah all this as they climbed the stone steps to the shrine, but he was rather distracted by the loss of his lady to the unknown. She was missing, out there somewhere, beyond his reach and it killed him to be so helpless to aid her, to even find her. He found it was difficult to breathe, not knowing where Eternity was or if she was in need of him. 

Yet, her cousin remained completely unfazed by her unknown plight. She was ever confident that the immortal queen would be back soon, unharmed and victorious against whatever or whomever had taken her. 

“Do not worry, Mr. Mikaelson,” Kaname reiterated once they had reached the top of the stairs and were heading to the main house. “You will see your lady soon.”

“How do you know?” He asked her softly.

Kaname turned back to grin at him, “Because I have bore witness to Her Majesty’s might a time or two. I have seen with my own eyes, just what she is capable of - the wonders she can achieve. I have faith in her abilities, as should you, sir, especially if you truly love her.”

“I do love her,” he said defensively. 

“Then have faith,” she responded quickly. “Besides, this turn of events gives us a chance to speak. I wish to ensure you are nothing like the last husband. I won’t let my cousin make the same mistake twice.” A dark scowl crossed her face briefly, before it faded away as swiftly as it came as she looked back at him.

Elijah shoved his hands into his pants pockets at Kaname’s pointed look of which she then gave him. He didn’t like the idea of being thought of as being similar or the same as Loki. He was nothing like that maddened fool, whom no doubt was responsible for Eternity’s disappearing act just now. That was what worried him the most - that she was at the Trickster’s mercy.

“To begin, let me say that even before Eternity told me, I knew who you were, Mr. Mikaelson,” Kaname told him in all seriousness. “I have heard the tales of the Originals; the bloodbaths, the killings, the mayhem, the destruction. Though much of that is contributed to your siblings, you are certainly not innocent; killing, maiming, torturing whomever dares to threaten your family or who is a means to an end for whatever reason you deem necessary.

“You are as cruel and monstrous as your more notorious siblings, particularly Niklaus Mikaelson. Yet, you pretend to be of civility with your suits and your candor. Surely, my cousin has seen all this, but she still fell in love with you. Why is that?”

Elijah’s eyes narrowed on the miko, unsure as to where she was going with her words.

“Ah, I know,” she carried on with a smile. “There is a measure of light in you, buried beneath the darkness of your monstrous ways. Like your siblings, there is a chance for redemption, for change - to be better than you are. Instead of remaining creatures of darkness, you lot can rise into the light and use the burden of being made into vampires for good. 

“Yes, you are capable of great evil, but like every creature, there is also a capability for good. That is what drawn her to you, Mr. Mikaelson. My cousin saw the possibility for a better life for you, under her guidance, through her love. She understood that the monster was just one part of you and that there was more to you than the cold-blooded killer, who will protect his family, no matter the cost or who has to die.”

“You have heard a lot and haven’t doubt just scrolled through my mind for the rest of your information. So what is your point, if you don’t mind me asking?” Elijah finally interjected.

Kaname shrugged and then grinned, “My point is that despite your faults, your past, your darker nature, you are certainly better than that madman Loki.” She gestured for him to follow her, “Come along, sir, and you can regale me with the epic love story between yourself and my cousin. It’ll pass the time until your lady returns.”

Not seeing he had any other choice, Elijah followed the priestess into her house, after he had taken off his shoes at the door as was custom, of course. He sat in the common room with her while she prepared some tea magically. They sat on the floor with a low set table between them. It was very much in the tradition of Japanese hospitality, as was to be expected from someone whom lived there, presumably for their entire lives.

Elijah told her everything that had happened since Eternity’s arrival into his life a decade ago. He told her about the reason for their meeting, along with their first chat at that little diner in that sleepy town in Maine. He spoke of how awestruck he had been by her very presence, of the ethereal glow and the way all stopped to stare at her shining grace. He told Kaname of how quickly he fell for her, and how she returned his affections in kind. He spoke of Niklaus and his little brother’s alliance with Loki, how Eternity had persuaded him to help his brother in his attempts to squash a witch rebellion. 

The Original told of the road trip across the American country, of the boy they saved, of the Blood Rose Club, of the kind Mitchells, and everything in between. He also told her of the end, of Eternity leaving him at that Californian hotel in fear for his safety against Loki, who had chased after them all the way, on their journey - along with Niklaus.

From there, Elijah emotionally spoke of the decade of misery without Eternity. He told Kaname how he felt lifeless, how it had been difficult to even breathe, how he grew darker, more vicious, colder. He told of his attempts to move on, but it had been impossible. Speaking of these things made his current worry for Eternity all the worse.

“I can’t lose her again,” he said to Kaname when the story had concluded, whom had been patiently listening to his tale all the while. “Eternity is my other half, almost literally. I need her like I’ve never needed another.”

Before the miko could respond, another figure showed up.

“Well, isn’t that touching,” called Aya from the doorway, setting both Elijah and Kaname on guard. “It seems I miscalculated and intervened too late to put you down for good back there, Elijah. It must be wonderful to have such friends in high places.” She gazed indifferently at Kaname briefly, before returning her eyes unto him.

Elijah was on his feet immediately, feeling rather vengeful at the sight of his old flame - the very one that was responsible for his lady’s disappearance, and that of Fenrir. “Where are Eternity and Fenrir?” He growled. “If you do not tell me -.”

Aya laughed cruelly, “You’ll what? Kill me? A little late, I think. Though, it wasn’t your by hand that I met my most welcomed end, but Hayley’s. All because you didn’t have the gall to do it yourself, if I recall.”

He glared at the apparition, just as Kaname came to stand beside him. 

“You do not belong here, evil spirit,” the miko said calmly, with authority. “Be gone!”

Aya didn’t disappear upon her words. In fact, the ghostly figure only smiled at her, “The thing is, you are not the only one with friends in high places. I too have allies with greater power than anyone on Earth.”

“...Loki,” ground out Elijah, knowing exactly who she was working for.

The spirit didn’t seem very surprised that he already knew to whom she referred. In fact, she looked knowingly smug. “Yes, and if you do not renounce this marriage, I fear my associate will have no choice, but to inform the madman Bruno where he can find his prize - the young Hope Mikaelson. Surely the powerful tribrid will be here in a few days time, yes? For the happy occasion of matrimony? If you don’t give your precious Eternity up, your latest foe will descend upon your niece and take her power, as he has done to many others of this world, once she is outside the protection of the Underground Agency.”

Elijah’s hands tightened at his sides, as did his jaw, as he tried to control the rage that he felt at not only the threat to his young niece, but to his relationship with Eternity. He wanted to lash out in a blind fury, but he was a master of control and he managed to keep himself in check.instead he relaxed and gave Aya an unamused smile. He kept his hands in his pants pockets to hide the signs of his anger.

“You are wasting your breath, if you think that threats are going to be enough to tear Eternity and I apart, dearest Aya,” he responded coolly. “You’ll have to kill me, before I’d ever give her up.”

There was an unreadable expression that crossed the dark woman’s face at his firm declaration, before it vanished quickly. “I figured you would say that,” she said bitterly. “You always were a fool when in love.”

Just then, the apparition moved to attack.

Fortunately, Elijah didn’t have to worry about countering her, as a spiritual arrow flew through Aya’s chest from behind. The ghostly woman looked down at the arrow, just as it burst into bright blue flames, and disintegrated the apparition quickly until she was no more.  

It was then that the Original could see Eternity standing across the yard with her yumi bow still in firing position. She looked battered and bruised, her clothes torn and he could see the glistening wetness of crimson blood upon her side. She lowered her weapon with heaving breathes, before she collapsed, only to be caught by Fenrir who came into view beside her. 

The younger immortal looked nearly as bad as his mother, battered and bruised as well; though he seemed otherwise unharmed. The boy lifted Eternity into his arms as she fell unconscious and carried her across the yard to the shrine. 

“What the hell happened?” Elijah demanded worriedly for them both, as Fenrir moved past him into the common room of the shrine.

“What do you think? My father happened,” Fenrir responded crossly as he lay Eternity down on the tatami mats. “My poor mother,” he murmured to the unconscious queen.

“Explain,” the vampire quietly requested of the lad.

Eternity’s son sighed, as his sapphire eyes looked up at Elijah from where he was crouched beside her. “My father had us sent into the afterworld, where he met us and then proceeded to torment us both. All the while, he spoke maddeningly about the wrongs done unto him and how he was going to make my mother suffer for these perceived slights,” Fenrir sounded almost bored when he said this, as if it were nothing new. Perhaps it wasn’t.

“He tortured me for fun first, just because I’m an easy target, and then my father proceeded to abuse her, right in front of me,” The male mirror of Eternity carried on with quiet disgust and anger as he spoke of what his father did. “At one point, he even tried to rape my mother, when she wouldn’t be broken by the insistence that she belonged to him still, or the accusations of betrayal, or the assault of which she actively stood against! He tried to hold her down, tried to prove his dominion over her.” 

Fenrir paused to take a breath, before continuing, “He’s vile, but fortunately, even in the spirit world, my mother triumphs. He didn’t get far, before she broke through his spell and escaped with me in tow.” He gave a proud smirk at the end, before the anger set back in at his father’s actions.

Elijah shared in the younger immortal’s anger. While he had dealt with threats against his family from Aya, Eternity had dealt with unspeakable terrors at the hand of a man that she had once loved, that she had used to call ‘husband’. How could any person, man or woman, treat someone they supposedly care for like that? How far had Loki fallen into his own darkness, to not see the great evil he was doing unto the woman he said he loved? 

But that was just it, wasn’t it? The Trickster didn’t love her. He couldn’t. Not anymore, at least. It wasn’t regaining love that Loki was after, but regaining control over her. And in his jealous quest to regain that of which he lost, the bastard was also attempting to intimidate him with apparitions of his past lovers whom he wronged, trying to get him away from Eternity by threatening his family and his own life. 

Like hell he would give her up! Never again, would he!

For hours, Elijah stayed by Eternity’s side, waiting for her to wake. Her wounds had healed, though they had seemed to take longer to do so. In this, Kaname had explained that this was due to being a corporal being in the world of the spirits. The body healed from a spirit’s attack slower because of the different kind of energy in the afterworld.

Then, just as the sun was setting for the night, the immortal queen finally stirred into consciousness. She sighed and blinked, raising a hand to her forehead as she took in her surroundings. She turned her head after a moment of getting her bearings and saw Elijah sitting there with her, a relieved smile upon his face.

“Elijah?” Eternity said hoarsely, as if she didn’t believe he was really there, despite having been the one to save him from Aya. 

He beamed down at her, taking a hand and brushing back her hair from her face, before cupping her cheek tenderly. “Yes, it’s me,” he replied softly.

Immediately, Eternity sat up and threw herself at him, practically climbing into his lap with her arms wound tightly around his neck, holding onto him for dear life. “Oh, Elijah. It was terrible,” she muttered against his throat, as he wrapped his arms around her protectively; one hand around her waist and the other cupping the back of her head as he held her to him.

“Shhh, you don’t have to tell me,” he whispered into her hair. “Fenrir already told me what happened. I’m just sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you from Loki.”

She lifted her head and smiled gently at him. “Don’t be sorry. There is nothing to apologize for,” she murmured to him, as she rested her forehead against his cheek. “It is my own past foolishness at fault here. Nothing more.”

Elijah continued to hold Eternity, sharing in a tormented silence with her. No doubt she relived the trauma, while he craved the strength to truly protect his lady from all threats. It was becoming even more imperative that they marry or rather that they preform the higher order ceremony, so that he could have the strength to guard his bride from the evil that plagued her. 

“Elijah,” Eternity whispered to him, catching his attention. 

He looked down into her sapphire eyes that shone with such love for him, despite her recent terrors. Nothing could break their bond, not Loki, not his past lovers, not time nor distance - nothing, he knew. They were always and forever.

With those confirming thoughts running in his head, the Original’s mouth descended upon Eternity’s with all he felt poured into his kiss. She clung to him as he devoured her mouth, with his tongue diving into the warm cavern to taste her sweetness desperately. He had been so worried for her and now he felt an immense relief that she was alright, that she was battered a bit, but safe. Things heated quickly between them as a result of high strung emotions they were both feeling at the moment.

“Hey, easy you two,” called Kaname from the doorway, with mild amusement.

Instantaneously was the seductive spell upon the couple broken, as Eternity tore her mouth from his to look at her cousin bashfully. “Kaname, hello,” she said in greeting.

“Hello, my queen,” the miko bowed in response, before she straightened and moved further into the room. “I am glad to see you are well again. It seems you have had quite the trying time, but at least, you are now safe and sound.”

The ethereal beauty tried to move off of Elijah’s lap, but he held on firmly, not letting her escape his embrace. “Elijah...,” she chastised quietly with an adorable grin, it which he simply smirked and refused to let her leave his hold.

“You two really are in love,” Eternity’s cousin observed with a tender smile. “It is quite beautiful to see. However...,” she trailed off, a firmer expression etching itself upon her face.

That caught the vampire’s attention, “However?”

Kaname came over to sit across from them with her legs folded neatly beneath her and her hands folded just as neatly in her lap. “However,” she began, “for the next three days until the wedding ceremony, you’re interactions will have to remain chaste. That means no intimacy of any kind.”

“Wha - I don’t understand,” Elijah stared dumbfounded.

Eternity stepped in to explain, “My love, it is a...family tradition. The act of sex between a newly married husband and wife is considered sacred, not just to my family, but to many of the immortal peoples. Therefore, it is a custom that there be a period of celibacy between the couple getting married to represent the purity of and respect to the union. This trial usually lasts longer than a few days, but the idea is to make the wedding night more special, more meaningful, I suppose. It’s silly really.”

“It is not silly, Cousin,” Kaname replied insistently, before he could respond. “You are the Universal Queen. It is necessary to follow at least some of the ancient traditions as it does not reflect well for the head of the kingdom to ignore the things that many of her people hold in high regard, especially her own family. You will follow this one premarital tradition or else I will not bless this union, and from what I understand of your situation, you do not have the time for hinderances.”

“Are you threatening me, Cousin?” The queen responded, with a twinge of amusement. 

Without missing a beat, the miko nodded, “Yes, I am.”

Eternity blinked at her and then looked at Elijah, who looked back at her with consent to this ritual. With that, she rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Very well. As you command, my lady,” she said to Kaname, a hint of mocking in her sweet voice.

“Good,” Eternity’s cousin gave another curt nod. “Now, you’re probably hungry. Fenrir has been preparing a meal for you. If you will, come sit.”

Elijah finally let go of the ethereal beauty and allowed her to leave his side to sit at the low set table. He watched as her dirty, torn clothes shifted and changed into a beautiful white kimono with a deep purple obi and deep purple flowers printed on the sleeves and hem of the brilliant white fabric. Her hair also shifted and changed from flowing freely into a braided bun at the back of her head, as she sat at the table.

She was stunning in these traditional wears, and the very sight stirred up his desire for her, as did her very presence. He wanted her at all times, regardless of what she wore or how she looked. Because of his insatiability, Elijah simply didn’t know how he was going to managed abstaining from taking her as he pleased for the next three days, when that was all he wanted to do. Especially after their most recent trying time.

Someone needed to pray for him....

To Be Continued....

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Tag List: @elejah-wonderland @rissyrapp20 @mikaelson-trash @xanderling @dendrite-lover @hawaiianohana15 @phoenix-potter-bailey @inmylifeilovedthemall

[fanficshiddles]

I’m still breathing, Chapter 10

Loki woke up the following morning and took a second to remember that he was in Sophie’s room. He had a good sleep, glad that his nightmares hadn’t haunted him for the last few weeks, not since he showed his true form to Sophie.

He stretched out and noticed that Sophie wasn’t next to him in bed. He frowned, wondering where she could be. That’s when he heard a noise from under the bed. He rolled over and swung his head down the side to look underneath and was shocked to see Sophie curled up underneath the bed, asleep.

‘Sophie?’

She didn’t open her eyes, but she responded. ‘What is it?’ She mumbled sleepily.

‘What are you doing under the bed?’

Sophie frowned and then opened her eyes. She got a scare as she attempted to sit up, but hit her head. ‘Ow! Shit!’ She hissed and put her hand over her head.

‘Now, I never thought I was so repulsive that you’d rather hide from me under the bed.’ Loki cocked an eyebrow at her.

Sophie rubbed her head and looked over at him. He looked odd looking at her upside down, his hair was hanging down around his face.

‘I… Have no idea why I am under the bed.’ She crawled out and scrambled back onto the bed, still rubbing her head.

Loki pulled her into him and rubbed her head for her. ‘No bump. I think you’re fine, perhaps slightly insane.’ He grinned, earning a glare from her.

‘What time is it?’ She asked, creasing her eyes as she looked around.

‘It’s 10am. You were pretty out of it last night, you were maybe just sleep walking or something similar.’ Loki suggested.

‘Yeah, must be.’ Sophie sighed and lay down, her head was pounding. Not from hitting it, but it was a headache. Her first hangover being pretty rough. ‘I am never drinking again.’ She groaned.

‘I thought you’d say that, everyone does. But you will.’ Loki smirked and placed his palm over her forehead.

‘What are you’

‘Shhh. Just relax.’ He whispered and closed his eyes to concentrate.

Sophie felt weird, she could feel tingling emitting from Loki’s hand and seeping into her skin. Miraculously, he got rid of her headache.

‘How the hell…’ She trailed off when he removed his hand.

‘I’m a god.’ He winked at her.

Once she felt better, Sophie and Loki went to seek out some breakfast. Sophie was glad to see that she wasn’t the only one sporting a hangover. Tony had fallen asleep in his cereal, Peter had his forehead to the table, Natasha was wearing sunglasses inside and looked pretty rough. Darcy and Jane were passed out in the living area with Thor, Wanda, Vision and Steve. She had no idea where the others were, no doubt in bed she thought.

Sophie grabbed some breakfast and sat down with Loki at the breakfast bar. The two shared a look as they looked at Tony, who was still asleep in his cornflakes. Loki smirked and mouthed quietly for her to watch.

Sophie bit her lip, wondering what the trickster was going to do. She watched as Loki slammed his hands down on the table, causing both Tony and Peter to shoot up in a panic. Peter put his arms in a defensive pose while Tony fell backwards off his stool.

Loki and Sophie burst out laughing. Tony grumbled under his breath, swearing at the god as he clambered up to his feet. But the two just laughed even more, he had cereal stuck to his forehead.

The noise Loki made caused everyone in the adjoining living area to stir as well, wondering what was happening. Darcy thought they were under attack so had hidden under a blanket.

After everyone had recovered, the ones who didn’t live at the tower left. And Clint went home for the weekend to spend time with his family. Sophie was dragged to the lab to see if the machine that Bruce, Tony and Loki had been working on would work.

‘Are you sure it’s safe?’ Sophie asked nervously while Tony got it started up.

‘Yep. We’ve already tested it on a mutant that works for SHIELD.’ Tony nodded.

‘And did it work? What did it show for them?’

‘The mutant in question is a shapeshifter. It showed high levels of the mutation flowing through his blood, bones and muscle. His entire body, basically.’ Bruce said.

‘Which helps to point towards what his mutation is. Since shapeshifting effects the entire body.’ Loki further explained.

‘Ah, ok.’ Sophie nodded in understanding.

Loki noticed her biting her nails while she waited for Stark to finish the preparations. It was something that Loki picked up on that she did when she was nervous. He moved in closer to her and slid an arm around her, pulling her into his side.

‘I wouldn’t let you go in this machine if it wasn’t safe. I give you my word.’ Loki assured her.

‘Thanks.’ Sophie nodded and smiled up at him.

When it was ready, Loki helped Sophie into the machine. In her eyes it was basically a large x ray machine that she had to stand in. So she tried to think of it as just that and closed her eyes until it was over.

It only lasted a minute as a scanner scanned her entire body with hyper rays that would penetrate into her body, but not harm her. The scans showed up on Tony’s computer within seconds.

Loki helped Sophie out of the machine, then they went to join Tony.

‘Well, it’s interesting. It says that your mutation effects your entire body too.’ Tony pointed to the screen. ‘See the hazy red? That’s the mutation. It’s all over your body, like the shapeshifting guy. Your bones, blood, everything.’ He said in amazement.

‘So… I shapeshift?’ Sophie asked.

‘Not necessarily. It could be a number of things. There are lots of mutations that effect the entire body.’ Bruce said.

‘Great. So it doesn’t help us that much?’ Sophie was disappointed.

‘It does help. It starts to narrow it down more.’ Loki said optimistically.

Sophie went straight to the library to look up about the different types of mutations. There was so many possibilities of what hers could be though, she didn’t know what to do. She picked one book that was most in-depth and took it to the living area to read there.

Everyone ended up in on a discussion with her about the possibilities.

‘Ooo, maybe you can turn invisible!’ Wanda suggested.

‘That would have been handy on the streets for sure.’ Sophie laughed.

‘Perhaps you will turn into a werewolf or something like that. You know like Beast. Or maybe you’ll end up like Night crawler. Man those two were awesome.’ Peter said excitedly.

Loki glared at Peter, not liking his suggestions. As Sophie had already expressed to Loki how she was scared her mutation would be something like that, where she wouldn’t be able to turn back to her normal human form.

Natasha picked up on the look from Loki and gave Peter a nudge.

‘Uh, or maybe you will be able to adapt to your surroundings and survive whatever situation you’re in.’ He said quickly, making up for his first suggestion.

‘That’s called having a Loki by your side.’ Steve grinned and everyone laughed, including Sophie who was surprised to see a small blush on Loki’s cheeks.

‘If the mutation is showing up as active from the findings of the machine, then surely that means it’s already within you. So if your appearance was going to change, I think it would have happened by now.’ Pepper suggested and Tony nodded in agreement.

‘She’s right. It was active mutation cells within your body, not dormant.’

Sophie was relieved at that. ‘Well, that’s a good thing I suppose.’

Later that day the team was called in to help with a terrorist attack happening in England. So they set off in the helicarrier. Loki was glad that Sophie had Pepper for company for a change now that she was back.

‘So when are you going to ask her on a date?’ Vision asked Loki, who looked like a sheep caught in the headlights.

‘What… Who?’ He asked, innocently. Though he knew exactly what Vision was on about.

‘You know who.’ Natasha grinned and rested her chin on her hand, looking at Loki intently.

‘I… I don’t know. I don’t think she would be interested.’ Loki shrugged.

‘Wait, what? Who’s he asking on a date? Who wouldn’t be interested?’ Tony butted in, confused.

Natasha glared at him. ‘You mean you don’t know?’

‘Clearly. Someone want to explain?’ He folded his arms over his chest.

‘Loki likes Sophie. Loki needs to grow a pair and ask her on a date. A proper date.’ Natasha smirked and looked back at Loki.

‘Sophie… You and Sophie? Really?’ Tony looked baffled.

‘You really can be blind sometimes, Stark.’ Vision laughed and patted him on the back.

Then Tony’s face lit up in realisation. ‘Ohhh. So that’s why you were so touchy when I mentioned about Peter might be good for Sophie!’

Peter had been eating crisps and looked up, confused at his name being mentioned.

Loki rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples. ‘Look. She is not likely to be interested in going on a date with me.’

‘How do you know?’ Natasha said quickly.

‘I… Well, I… Why would she be?’ Loki stuttered.

‘I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Loki. She adores you. She trusts you too and that’s something. The way she stuck up for you before. How you’re always reaching for her hand or she for yours. I would be very surprised if she didn’t jump at the chance to go on a date with you.’

There was no more talk about dates because they arrived in England to take out the threat. But it was safe to say that Loki’s mind was entirely elsewhere. When they were finished in England and heading back to base, Thor spoke to Loki quietly at the back.

‘Natasha is right, you know. You should ask her on a date.’ He said quietly.

‘What if she says no?’ Loki said worriedly.

‘She won’t. I am sure of it. Since when did you get so shy around girls anyway?’ Thor chuckled.

‘I… I am not.’ Loki said confidently, trying to act fine.

‘I know you really like her, brother. I don’t think you have to worry as I know she likes you too. Just try it. Invite her on a date.’ Thor gave him a pat on the back, leaving Loki to his thoughts.

He wanted nothing more than to be able to court Sophie. His feelings had grown for her even more over the months in her company. He had been attracted to her from the moment he laid eyes upon her, even if she did stab him. That was part of her charm.

But he didn’t want to ruin what they had. They had become really close and good friends, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk it. What if she didn’t feel the same way that he did? It would make things awkward if she found out that he liked her in a more romantic way, if she didn’t feel the same.

He sighed and ran a hand down his face as he paced his room.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised it would be worth a try. So he gathered up as much courage as he possibly could and went to find her.

He tried her room first but she wasn’t there, so he went to the kitchen. That’s where he found her, along with Pepper, Natasha and Clint.

‘Sophie, there you are. I need to ask you… Something.’ He said and walked over to stand by where she sat.

‘What’s up?’ She smiled up at him.

‘I was wondering. If you would’ He was cut off when the intruder alarm went off and two SHIELD soldiers marched into the room with Tony following behind, trying to get them to leave again.

‘Sophie?’ One of the guards asked.

‘Y… Yes?’ Sophie stood up, slightly concerned.

‘You need to come with us.’ The guard said and moved towards her, reaching out to grab her arm.

Loki saw red. He grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it so his body was forced round and then he kicked his back in, sending him to the floor. The other guard lunged at Loki, but Loki whipped out his daggers and held one up to his neck, causing the guard to freeze while the first one scrambled up to his feet and went to radio for back up.

‘Woah, woah! Stop guys.’ Tony managed to separate them. ‘Loki, back off.’

‘How dare they come in here and attempt to grab Sophie!’ Loki snarled, nose scrunching angrily. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ He demanded.

‘We are not at liberty to disclose that information. She needs to come with us.’ The guard said firmly, his hand on his gun as he didn’t like the situation.

‘No. She’s going nowhere.’ Loki hissed, stepping fully on front of her, daggers still in hand.

Natasha and Clint also stood up and gathered next to Loki, as did Tony. Their arms folded over their chests as they stared at the guards.

The guards looked between one another, then one held his earpiece and listened to an in-coming message.

‘Fine. You can all come with her too. But she has to come with us.’ The guard said firmly.

Sophie’s stomach was in knots as the guards led the way. Natasha and Clint followed then Loki and Sophie, with Tony behind them. Loki took Sophie’s hand as he knew she was scared. He was too, wondering what they wanted with Sophie.

They were taken to a car that was waiting outside.

‘We are not getting in until we are told what is going on. Or until we speak to Fury.’ Tony said firmly.

The guards sighed in irritation and took out a phone. They called Fury and handed it over to Tony.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ He snapped at the director.

‘I need to speak to Sophie for myself. Get an update from her. That is all.’ Fury said calmly.

‘I don’t buy it. Why don’t you come here? There is no more news to tell. And why did the guards just barge in, setting off my alarm?’

‘If she isn’t here in the next hour, I will have to take drastic measures. So I suggest you all get your asses here right now.’

[pjo-hoo-nextgen]

Magic Is Dangerous I

The Sorting

Andy sat at the Slytherin table waiting impatiently for the newcomers to arrive. He was always eager to see new people, and what better way to be introduced than the sorting ceremony. Of course, he, like everyone else, remembered his own sorting like it was yesterday.

The tables were packed with ogling kids all craning their necks to identify fresh meat. Andy, unlike some of the others, had comfort in the great hall. His brother shouldn’t have been too far away, nor Maria, or Grey, or Sol, or Eli. In fact, he had eyes everywhere belonging to familiar faces.

However, there was the fact that Jaxon was one of the best wizards at the school and a prefect for Gryffindor. Andy couldn’t afford messing up like he did at home all of the time. Swallowing hard and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robe, Andy watched others go before him.

Then, at last, it was his turn. He didn’t have to look to know Jaxon was watching him closely. Raising his chin, pushing his shoulders back, and walking with purpose, Andy took the stool with an aura of confidence he didn’t actually possess.

‘Mmmm. Another Grace. Interesting, your brother-I remember him,’ The Sorting Hat mused. ‘Currently the Gryffindor Prefect. But you, you’re different. Brave yes, but cunning too. A bit mischievous at heart but caring and playful too. Tricky, tricky, tricky.’

“Did I stump you?” Andy wondered softly to himself.

‘Quite on the contrary,’ The Hat replied, ‘Slytherin!’

Andy could practically feel Jaxon deflate. He’d been hoping to mentor his little brother, but instead, Andy shuffled off to the Slytherin table where Maria slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Welcome to the dark side,” She teased, ruffling his hair.

“Uh, thanks.” Andy smiled thinly.

Shaking his head Andy focused back on the current event at hand. He was aware of Maria beside him with a sort of distant look in her eyes. He supposed that she too was remembering her own sorting. He’d heard plenty of stories about it.

Maria couldn’t understand the insecurity of those around her. It was a hat. That was all. It could hardly hurt a fly unless it ate the fly. Still, there were kids all around her quaking at the knees over the prospect of a dusty old piece of clothing shouting out a word.

Sure, she had some empathy, but she was certain of one thing. She was Gryffindor like both of her parents. It made sense, the stats didn’t lie, and more times than not a kid with parents from the same house was also destined to be a member of the same house.

So Maria waited impatiently until she was finally called. With a few mumbled excuse me’s she took the steps with perfect poise and plopped upon the empty stool. “Alright mister hat, lets get this over with shall we?”

‘Bossy are we?’ The hat grumbled. ‘Well, that explains it. Jackson blood. Mother and father both champions of Gryffindor. True genetics must be impeccable. Yes, you’re brave, smart too, but there’s something else....yes...you’re a trickster aren’t you? Sly, cunning, prideful too. You know what you want and you take it. Efficient at everything but not without a little fun. Yes, I know where to put you. Slytherin!’

Maria’s heart froze. Slytherin. She couldn’t be Slytherin. It wasn’t possible, she’d done as much preparation for this as she could! How would she explain it to her parents? They’d both teased her about being anything other than Gryffindor but she knew a bit of truth was there.

She felt like crying. How could she be so different from them and yet so similar?

Grey laughed from his place at the Hufflepuff table, watching Andy make faces at Maria as she zoned out. He couldn’t believe how much they’d grown. He remembered each of their sortings. The way he’d comforted them against their doubts. It had been equally scary for him, as he’d been the first to go through he process, but it wasn’t too bad.

Grey locked eyes with his father swallowing nervously as he tried to convey his nerves through his eyes alone. Will gave him a reassuring smile, but Grey wasn’t too comforted. He wasn’t sure what to make of everything. Most kids ended up in a house associated with their familial relations but he was adopted! He’d grown up most of his life believing magic was a hoax and yet there he was.

“Mister Solace!” Grey snapped from his daze and awkwardly stumbled up the steps muttering apologies as he went. As soon as he was settled the hat set to work.

‘Aha! A Solace! I remember your father! Dashing young man, good natured, helpful, kind, and nurturing. You’re a shivering little lot aren’t you? Nervous?’ The hat chuckled.

“Y-Yes sir. I am.” Grey stammered.

‘Sir?! I quite like you!’

“Th-Thank you sir.”

‘Hufflepuff!’

“Really?” Grey’s eyes widened in surprise and he nearly took the hat off to hug it. Then, without thinking, he bolted from the stool and tackled his father in a hug. “Dad! I’m like you!”

“I know!” Will laughed, blushing slightly at the looks he was earning, “Go sit at your table. I’ll talk later.”

Grey nodded and after waving at the other teachers scampered off to join his fellow house mates. He couldn’t sit still the rest of the night.

Grey even recalled the night Eli joined him. How he’d sat so stoic on the stool, face unmoving, no indication of nerves, and then he was declared Hufflepuff. The singular word brought a bright grin across his face and he all but skipped over to Grey. The two hugged and the elder boy was happy to finally have a companion.

Eli had been worried he wouldn’t fit anywhere but the Sorting Hat saw a friendliness in him, a kindness, and a fierce protectiveness despite the cool demeanor at times. Grey couldn’t have agreed more.

Sol glanced up from where she’d been examining the table to scan the room. She felt a bit detached from the chaos at hand but she wasn’t keen on getting involved where it wasn’t needed. The last thing she wanted was another upstart Ravenclaw to think they knew everything. She remembered her first night in the common rooms, how it’d been a competition between first years to see who was the smartest, and how she’d gotten our first. It was humiliating.

She still couldn’t see the intelligence that stupid hat said she had. She couldn’t spout facts, emend unimportant things, solve riddles with ease, or anything of the sort. Her father was a mechanic at the ministry but magic usually solved everything. Her mother didn’t dabble in machinery of any sort, and focused on cooking more than anything. So Sol couldn’t figure out how and why she was so good at working with her hands. In a school of magic there was no use for it, and each day was a struggle. She hated the place, her inadequacy, and the fact that she was in Ravenclaw. She’d have complained but she didn’t have it the worst on sorting day. Thia took the icing on that cake.

Thia sat quivering on the stool. She was terrified. Too many people were watching her at once and what was worse-her friends and family were all there too. She was so rattled she nearly missed the sorting hat’s initial greeting.

‘Another Grace, my goodness. Well, I suppose you know where you want to be.’ The hat waited for an answer, but all This could do was shiver like a frightened chihuahua. ‘Interesting. You’re quite complicated.’

Thia swallowed hard and prayed no one heard the small whimper she’d made.

‘Brave, indeed. Protective too. Nothing stops you from doing what’s right. Your moral compass is driven in the direction of justice and kindness. However, you’re loyal to the bone. Impressively so. Never one to turn your back on a friend or family member. An intense compassion thrives in you. So strong I haven’t seen it in years. It’s tempting to stop there, but I sense other attributes. You’re clever. Not in the outright sense. No, you’ve got brains in other areas. Your mind wanders to the unknown. Contemplates the deep reality existing below the everyday surface of life. Cultivated your mind could be deadly. Then, beneath it all, and equally as strong-ambition. You know what you want. You desire to do something spectacular, grand, and meaningful. To right the wrongs of the world and to bring justice and strength to the weak. Noble in intention. Yes, you are very complicated.’

Thia wanted to puke. This was taking impossibly long. The longest had been an hour. She was certain she was already creeping up on that time mark.

At first she thought finding Jaxon would help but it didn’t. She nearly burst into tears and asked him to take her home then and there. The only thing that helped her remain relatively in control was the idea of her moms playfully arguing over what house she’d be sorted into. Even they had struggled to decide.

Still, the anxiety ate away at her temporary memories. It was always a nuisance that anxiety, and it only worsened with each second. Thia was certain she’d fainted at some point but upon refocusing he realized she’d simply zoned out.

When the voice burst out in a triumphant decision she fell backwards off the stool in fright. “Gryffindor!”

So shocked was she that Will, the medic, had to help her over to Jaxon. She’d never been so embarrassed in her life.

Even now Sol knew Thia felt the same she’d always had. ‘I’m not brave. Not like they say I should be’ and Sol only had to take one look at Thia to know despite the other girl’s seniority, she had identified every single first year that would be far better than her at any field.

Sol only paid attention when the names were finished and the food appeared because then she didn’t have to think. She just smiled like everyone else and set about the evening, destined to hear first years compete for their intellectual prestige, just as And and Maria would hear kids talk about their biggest wrong doings, or Grey and Eli would comfort home sick kids, and Jaxon and Thia would listen to people boast about everything and nothing.

“Here’s to Hogwarts,” Sol sighed, watching Thia shrink in her seat from afar, Andy go into his own world, Maria glare at unfriendly kids, Jaxon puff out his chest to appear authoritative, and so on, “and another year of disappointment.”

[tarithenurse]

Defense of Asgard (10/11)

Wordcount: 2897 (sorry)

Warnings: violence, maybe language, smut (fingering), fluff

“Keep reading” for obvious reasons.

Loki’s PoV

Loki’s victim is gurgling on the ground in a last, futile effort to breath, and around him his fellow Asgardians are either finishing off their own adversaries or using the lack of golden maniacs to recover. Straightening up, he pushes a strand of jet-black hair out of the eyes and looks around for [Y/N]. It feels as though a cold void threatens to pull him off the planet, when he sees the weapon aimed at her face. Lurching into motion, he barely makes it three steps before the blast of the gun makes him stumble in shock. NO!! He watches as the momentum makes the love of his life collide with the bastard, sending them both sprawling onto the ground.

NonononoNO! Scrambling frantically for what feels like an eternity, it only slowly dawns on Loki that [Y/N]’s left hand is snaring the wrist of the Sovereign, keeping the gun pointing away, while the other hand is closing around the golden neck. Even from here, the prince can see how she’s biting back a scream of pain until her skill takes effect, draining the downed would-be-murderer of life and leaving him skinny and pale beneath her. The way she arches her back while the brief moment of ecstasy rolls through her, should perhaps make Loki jealous…instead it entices him. The woman is mysterious, deadly, yes even magical. And she is mine. The thought makes him smile, as his picks his way across the battlefield.

“[Y/N]?” He squads next to her, ready to leap away if instinct still is ruling her.

Turning to face him, his wife’s eyes are clear blue-grey with the tint of pleased golden freckles, but the milky sheen that would have clouded them as she drained the life out of the Sovereign is long gone. Finding her hand, Loki gently pulls her off the corpse and into an embrace. Both their heartrates are beginning slow, simultaneously with their breathing, after the fighting, and resting together for a moment allows a different kind of peace to envelop the couple. Over a field, one of the turrets hits its mark and brings down another transport in a flaming ball that lands the snow beneath before it has hit the ground.

“We’ve better get ready…” [Y/N] sighs, clearly not enjoying the battle as much as the Asgardians.

Cupping her face, Loki wipes away a smear of her own blood that has tracked red paths down her cheek and past the jaw. Despite the attempt at cleaning her, the face he adores is still blushed, although now it may be for different reasons, but she avoids meeting his eyes and there is no easy way to tell what she is feeling and thinking.

“Why do you blush, my flower?” A soft kiss is enough to coax her face towards him.

She bites her lip, coy and stubborn at the same time. “I guess you saw what happened…” [Y/N] sighs when he nods. “Yeah, well…I’m not gonna run and hide.”

“I know.” Standing up first, Loki pulls the healer to her feet. “Yet you cannot stop me from worrying.”

“Just look out for yourself, mister Trickster.” Smiling playfully at him, the woman heads off to attend to the minor injuries the defenders have sustained.

Pacing down the road, he reaches Tyr and the Warriors Three who are discussing the situation above. There, against the dark of night, it’s possible to see the faint shadows of the many different vessels. Many of them have retaken formation and Loki can guess that they are not the Ravagers, but the Xandarians who value discipline. A lightning blast slams into the ground, functioning as a warning of where his king and brother is about to land. Show off. Even if the prince rolls his eyes and sighs at Thor’s talents, it is good humoured rather than coveting, although (or perhaps because) it feels unsafe to get near it – too often has the God of Thunder amused himself by zapping his friends with small electric jolts, and it is for that very same reason, that Loki waits patiently out of reach until the air surrounding the tall, blond warrior has stopped buzzing.

“There you are, brother.” The younger of the two is leaning on his spear when he flashes a grin at Thor. “How fares the battle above?”

“Not bad,” looking around, the king takes in the scenery on the ground, “yet…they do not seem to appreciate the warm welcome.” He rolls a corpse over with a foot and nods thoughtfully. “They have retreated for now.”

Sif and [Y/N] join them, the former rubbing the stomach of her armour absentmindedly before reaching out for her husband. “I hope they are not running away?”

Her comment makes Thor snort with ill-contained amusement. “Hardly! They are too thick-skulled and proud to know when to stop!”

A slender arm snakes around Loki’s waist, and as he looks down he’s met by serious dark-blue gaze that he knows so well. Those eyes are truly a window to [Y/N]’s soul because the altering dispositions change the colours of her irises, each shade corresponding to a different frame of mind. He had learned the hard way that violet was a warning of anger or aggression. Pulling her closer, Loki hopes that she can find some consolation to stave away the sadness and regret that is filling her.

…

Reader’s PoV

Being held by her husband makes things a bit better, but [Y/N] truly hates when people die…even if they are actively trying to kill someone else. In fact, the whole reason for becoming a nurse and later a hero (thanks to the skillset the Inhuman DNA has given her) was to save lives, and she still managed to find herself in one situation after the other where not only her friends were fighting to the death, but she too had to kill. But of course, having been a member of the Avengers and SHIELD had forced her to adopt a different mindset. Everyone on the teams had had their fair share of battles and death, making them the best people to help [Y/N] deal with it when it became her turn to take a life for the first time, and it’s what had kept her relatively sane during the showdown against Thanos. And now here.

Trying not to look at the lifeless figures strewn on the ground, [Y/N] glances around at the faces of her friends in arms. They have fought hard already, but the Asgardians have impressive reserves of energy when compared to humans home on earth. They’re gonna need it. A faint glimmer has appeared on the edge of her perimeter, signaling the arrival of something living within the 50-odd meter radius of her skill’s range. Even though the Sovereign have golden skin, hair and eyes, the particles (that they are made of to [Y/N] when she closes her eyes) don’t always match, and she’s forced to judge the identities from other signs: the physical attributes (each Sovereign is frighteningly similar to the next, thanks to cloning), the mutations (that should have crippled them, but somehow doesn’t), and the itch that spread across the Inhuman’s own skin as her body tunes in on theirs.

“Incoming.” [Y/N]’s warning is echoed by Heimdall.

Facing the new threat, she plants the spear in the ground to free her hands. The round discs on her belt detach with the right leverage and pressure on the center flips a series of serrated blades along the edges with a click turning them into shuriken. There. The first one has stepped into a circle of light from the elevated brazier, making an obvious target of itself, and [Y/N]’s about to let one of her throwing weapons fly when Thor hurtles his artwork of an axe towards the doomed enemy, releasing cascades of lightning that fries anything in its path. Tony had offered plenty of snide comment the first time he saw the weapon leaned against the wall, most of them had been about compensation, but he stopped once he saw Thor use that thing. There are no jokes now, although some of the king’s friends dare to complain that they have no one to entertain themselves with. Jinx. Once more, Heimdall’s voice booms from above, calling for Thor to go elsewhere and bolster the defenses there.

…

The pale grey of the morning is slowly diminishing and allowing the pastel colours to take over. All around [Y/N] are the remnants of the latest Sovereign wave to attack them, this time fueled by desperation rather than conviction. The Asgardians are walking among the slain, checking to see if the job has been done to satisfaction by jabbing the golden bodies with whatever weapon they carry. By now, everyone has had enough of the maiming and killing, and [Y/N] is more than happy to rest in Loki’s arm while they have the chance. He’s brushed a bench free of snow and spread the bottom of his cape over the still cold surface for her to sit on, before dragging her against his own body and shielding her inside a cocoon of arms and soft, green fabric.

“You fight well, my love.” His breath is warm against her hair. “You have made me very proud.”

Tilting her head up, she finds Loki’s emerald eyes. “Proud?”

The taunting smile proves that she knows that it downright excites him, and it has given him more than a few ideas to use at other occasions.

The God of Mischief doesn’t have a chance to answer before you sit up straight, looking over at Sif who’s limping back into range. The queen and a handful warriors had followed in pursuit of a number of stragglers who were trying to make it to the tower where Heimdall has been (and still is) keeping watch. The Watcher would most likely have been able to deal with them himself, but it would have removed his focus from the events in the sky and thus any new waves of attackers. As [Y/N] untangles herself, the concern for the queen grows stronger.

“My queen.” The healer rushes to the queen’s side.

“It was just a bash by a blunt weapon…my armour took the brunt of it.”

It’s true, there are no lacerations or outwards trauma, save for the biggest bruise in newer Asgardian history. But the hip is slightly dislocated and, which is worse, the sacrum has been knocked crooked, creating tension in the lower body…including the uterus with the fragile life. Already the tissue is preparing for the first spasms that will release the blood, growing placenta and the peanut-shell-sized embryo.

I have to act fast. “We need to find a place where you can lie down.”

The urgency in [Y/N]’s quiet voice is enough to stop any objections, and Sif enters the nearest house. Only pausing to close the door after them, [Y/N] is pleased to see how nimble her sister in law lies down on the rug covering the cold floor. Kneeling between the legs of Sif, she bends the knees and slide a hand under the royal ass until the fingertips have found the right places to apply a gently pressure through which the healing power flowers in a steady stream, making the cells bend to her will.

Moments later, the Inhuman can help the Asgardian back on her feet with the promise that everything is fine again…for now. “But I have to say that you should take it easy for a few days.” Like that will ever happen.

“Who am I to argue with my midwife.” Sif smiles sweetly before striding out of the house.

It takes a moment for [Y/N] to come to terms with the new title she’s been bestowed, so when she too leaves the house (closing the door carefully) Sif’s already out of view. Instead Loki’s leaning casually against the wall, playing with an icicle he’s broken off the low reaching eave.

“What was that about?” He’s pointedly looking anywhere but at his wife.

Think fast. This is not for me to reveal. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean,” this time he turns towards her, “it could appear that you and the queen are keeping secrets.” The silence stretches for a moment as they study each other’s faces. “Are you?”

“Pfft.” A pokerface is easy to master when in complete control of every single cell…but Loki is unparalleled at picking up on the smallest details. “Firstly…my role’s that of a medic, so I had to ensure she wasn’t wounded. Second…she’s my queen and friend, and commander during this battle. She tells me where to go and what to do. I wanted to ensure that I wasn’t needed elsewhere.”

In a few long strides, the tall, slender god has covered the distance between them. Grabbing [Y/N] by the shoulders, he bends down to pierce her with a burning gaze as if he can will her to tell her anything else. His eyes are glittering turquoise and green, and [Y/N] has to concentrate to keep her own from shifting like his.

The voice of the god is soft and cold when he finally speaks. “There is something you are not telling me, darling. I do not like it.”

“Women sometimes do that, you know.” A smile dance across her lips as she allows an age-old truth to save her rather than lying. “We confide in each other. Help each other. Console each other.” Reaching up, she cups his frost-flushed cheek gently. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and you have to be able to trust, that it does not mean I’ll betray you.”

It’s like watching a balloon deflate quietly and suddenly [Y/N] finds herself in his arms once more. “Forgive me, my flower. My mind is burdened with the many troubling events of late, and my heart is wrought with worry for my people and you.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him tenderly. “And no need to worry for me at least.”

…

Loki’s PoV

As it were, there was no need to worry for any Asgardian either. It was not long before it became apparent that the last Sovereign had fled and while the Xandarians and Ravagers landed on the snow-covered fields, the Asgardians that had not participated in the battle re-emerged to take part in the recovery and cleaning up. It was a task that would last days, as many buildings and ships had been destroyed and was now littering the streets and surrounding areas, but the first priority was to create a pyre and burn the fallen enemies. [Y/N] busied herself by tending to the lighter injuries, although the Asgardian healers tried to convince her it was beneath her. She only paused to recover her energy, but eventually fatigue caught up with her, and she allowed Loki to walk her to their chambers.

“The bath is ready, my flower.”

Loki turns towards [Y/N], only to find her dozing of, still fully dressed, on the low bench in the bathroom. He wakes her gently before using his own magic to rid both her and himself of the armour and clothes they have been wearing since the previous morning. Then he lifts her easily and steps into the large tub where he sits down. A content sigh and smile grace her fine features, encouraging him to settle her with the back against his chest.

Using the sponge and soap, he cleans every inch of her soft skin, and Loki finds himself so engrossed in the work that he does not realize how her breathing changes until the cupping of her breast makes the nipple perk. Pinching it softly between a finger and a thumb, he smiles at the tiny gasp [Y/N] lets out and it encourages him to abandon the cleaning utensils, so he can use both hands to slide over the gorgeous nakedness. One hand slides down the expanse of her chest and stomach to tease the fine curls where the thighs meet, the other plays with the bosom he so dearly admires, and already his cock is showing exactly how much he approves of the sight before him. I could watch this all day. The woman is biting her lower lip in pleasure, her head and wet curls leaned back against his shoulder to grant an unobscured view.

Loki has to stop her, when she tries to get in position to reciprocate. “Not this time. Just let me please you.”

For a moment, golden eyes appear under the heavy lids, but as his fingers slide further between her legs and finds the small bundle of nerves, the eyes close again and it’s the perfect lips that part instead. Weaving unimaginable patterns and interchanging the pressure and speed, Loki explores every fold and crevice, playing at the entrance to her core or pinching and stroking her clit until her moans transform into pleas for more. Then he slip a few fingers into the silken cave, slick with pleasure and need, teasingly increasing the speed and depth until the first shiver wrecks her frame.

Loki gives her time to calm down again, only adoring her body with long strokes as he kisses and nibbles her mouth, neck, shoulders…anywhere he can reach. Once relaxed, he finishes their bath, dries them both and carries her to bed where she falls asleep in his arms.

…

[writinanon]

Glimpses

Here are small snippets into the life of Deputy Rook, Coy-Wolf and descendant of Fenrir I’ll be adding some of the head canons in a little bit.

 It is a warm summer day when the announcement comes ringing through the halls of Asgård. Ask has taken a Mate. And she is Mortal. And she is not a Wolf. And she is with Child because this was a while ago. Loki can’t exactly say that Odin is timely when it comes to announcements of the Wolf Children. When Loki locates his grandson to inform him he finds that Hati is already gone because Ask’s Mate was due to give birth on this day, also Ask was going by Ash now because modern speech made his name sound stupid. Loki was really going to get Odin back for this.

   The babe is bright and makes her displeasure at no longer being safely within her mother’s belly known with yips and yaps. Loki is stunned by her fur. He had seen many a normal wolf with similar stylings of patches of color and a light underbelly. His son, grandson, and great-grandson did not have these markings they were a solid color. But the little one looked like a ridge of clouds that progressed into inky blackness of a storm before abruptly shifting into a pure snowy white. Her mother’s grey, brown, and crème markings mimicked the patterns on the baby. Her mother is Coyote and that clued Loki in as to why Odin was so late in delivering the news. The Trickster lines had merged here though he could tell she wasn’t actually of natural Trickster Blood.

  “Have you thought of a name for her?” Loki ran a finger down her spine and she gave a small growl of approval.

  “None of the names we picked fit her.” Ash muttered sadly and Hati looked at her fur before smiling, that wolfish smile that meant trouble.

  “Rook is a wonderful name and it is fitting no?” Loki looked down at his first great-great-granddaughter and nodded.

  “Smoke indeed.”

   Hati adored his granddaughter, his only grandchild. Unlike his brother he was much more selective of breeding and mating. She was so tiny. He knew that she would grow, and grow, and grow, and grow but for now she was so tiny, looking more like a flea on her father’s paw than a pup. But his granddaughter was not why he was visiting this day. It was his son’s Mate, Adella that had him visiting. She was dying and he was going to make the final offer.

  “I know why you’re here.” She whispered as they watched Ash play with Rook. “My answer is the same.”

  “You do not wish to see her grow?”

  “Oh, I do. But she needs to be strong.” Hati looked at her. “She will need the reliance of herself alone or else she’ll never stand against them.” He didn’t question her, Adella had always been strange.

  “You’ll be gone in Winter.” She smiled and knelt as her daughter raced toward her.

  “We’ll make it memorable then, won’t we?” She pressed a kiss into the girl’s hair and passed her to Hati when she made grabbing motions.

   Hel understood Adella’s desire not to fight her mortality. The young girl had become quiet with her mother’s passing and was almost constantly in her father’s presence, that though she could protect him from Death. It made the Queen of Helheim smile. She hadn’t said anything but she had a feeling that her father, brother, and nephew were wrong about their little ball of smoke. Many of Sköll’s children showed better defense and it wasn’t until their magic developed as such that they understood. Though the magic had bled out of a few of Sköll’s bloodlines given they weren’t encouraged to wield it. Hel chuckled at her other nephew’s mourning of this. Sköll was a very superficial person. He saw a woman, he liked her, he courted her, he saw another and chased her now that he had caught the one he had previously desired. That didn’t mean he didn’t love all of his offspring. He simply didn’t want to be tied down as Hati and Ash did. He saw having a permanent mate, having a True Pack, as distraction from the Hunt. Only the strongest of his children joined the Hunt, most became Guardians or nothing at all. A yap drew Hel’s mind back to the present as she found herself with paws too big for the little body they were attached to in her lap.

  “Well Pup? What do you think?” She placed a crown of flowers into her hair. Hel had picked up the habit from Freyja, that troublesome Goddess that wouldn’t leave Hel to her gloom and Mansion. Rook considered before panting a smile and licking Hel’s fingers and then nudging them with her snout. “Greedy little thing.” She ran her fingers through her fur and Rook wagged her tail happily.

   Loki snuck his little Rook out into the warm sunshine. He made sure that they were protected from her father’s sight with several large trees. The five-year-old was more than ready to start taking up her mantle of Blood and Magic. She was a Trickster, by blood and half by association.

  “Now pay attention little one. These flowers and plants are some of your greatest weapons and allies.” She nodded with a seriousness that not many children her age held.

  “Grandpa Loki?” She hummed softly as she slowly made small figures of twigs and leaves come alive. “Why did aunt Hel take my mommy?” Loki knew that her mother’s death weighed very heavily on the pair. Ash was heartsick and could not recover while in the Mortal Realm for he could not distance himself from the pain.

  “Hel needed her for the company and to keep her safe.”

  “I could do that.”

  “Oh no little one.” Loki ran a hand through her hair, her little ears twitched but she rubbed closer. “We need you for the Hunt.” Her magic ran into healing and defense. She would be a great Hunter.

   Rook is not often visited by Thor. Thor doesn’t like to appear to be intruding on his adoptive Family on Odin’s behalf. Still he had not gotten a chance to meet the newest member of the Family since her birth and he had given his blessing of protection.

  “Really protection?” Loki sneered at him but Thor tossed the little girl with wolf ears up and down while she squealed happily. “Couldn’t you be more creative O’ Protector of Man?”

  “I think she’ll need someone big and strong when the time comes to scare off the unworthy. They’ll take one look at your ratty red hair or your scrawny muscles and laugh.”

  “Ah! You wound me Brother!” It eased Loki somewhat that Thor was truly acting on his own and not Odin’s Will. Thor could be nosy and not understand that some matters were privet even from Family but his heart was usually in the right place.

   Freyja smiled down at the little girl that was playing with her cats. She was getting much bigger. Hel huffed as another flower crown was placed on her head.

  “Oh, don’t be so upset.” The War Goddess teased. “She’ll be glorious one day. Truly I feel envy of your niece.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s nice to have multiple people assure that yes you are powerful and beautiful. Constantly.”

   At the age of thirteen Rook is old enough to care for herself, provided that she checks in with the sheriff’s department constantly.

  “You have proved not only your strength and prowess in magic,” A dirty look was tossed at her Great-Great-Grandfather at this. “But that you have the drive of the Hunt. Would you serve me upon the coming time instead of Guarding the Family?” Hati asked as they knelt before her Great-Grandfather. She straightened her back and nodded.

  “It would honor me to serve my Patron. I will take the Hunt.” She stares into the bright sapphire eyes of her Patriarch before looking to the eyes of her Ancestor. They are a burning red, deep a smoldering like a cooled fire, still dangerous but the believed threat is diminished. Fenrir lets out a huff and licks her, baptizing her and granting his Blessing. From this point forward, she is Pack Blood. She shifts fully into her human form and lays down between his paws.

  “Here Pup.” Hel places a bone between her teeth and places her head in her lap, having borrowed Freyja’s newest batch of kittens to comfort her. Hati pulls the rib bone of Fenrir that was taken for this purpose and threads the lace into it. They all begin to chant and Rook bites down on the bone. She knows this will take until sunset. She passes out completely despite her best efforts when Hati begins to depict the Hunt, she can take no more.

   Katie is unsure about Rook at first until Rook fully shifts and looks more Coy than Wolf. After that Katie knows that Coy breeds true and there’s nothing to worry about with her friend.

   College is not exactly eye opening in the way that Rook was told it would always be. Thor is shuffling her into her dorm after breaking the nose and jaw of two Wolves.

  “Have those beasts no manners? And the Southerners claim you savage.” He is muttering as he puttered about and tucked her in like when she was a small child. Rook chuckled softly at that. A pair of French Wolves had thought they had an easy mark in her. This just proved to her that she belonged back in Hope. Hope even run by a Wolf Pack, was at least run by proper Wolves.

   Sheriff Whitehorse smiled at her when she walked in to apply. She grinned back. She was glad to be home, glad to finally be able to work for the land that had given her shelter.

[saralaurensmagalona]

Your True Desire, Part Two A Thorki fanfiction by Magalona

Hi guys ! Here the rest of the story and the link to the original manga :

https://e-hentai.org/s/c462db01e0/856123-1

Thank you !

A silhouette stepped out of the dark, a huge brown-haired man, taller than Loki, muscled enough to pass for an Einherjar. He was looking at him as if the Trickster was his next meal. “Leaving so soon ?” Another with black skin and scars on his chest came along, blocking the path. They seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Loki's senses were plain dead. He hadn't detected them in any way. His heart was literally booming and his reflexes seemed totally numb. He had been drugged by the incense, or the drink or the music. He was sure of it. In normal times, he would have grabbed the arm that held his torso and twisted it until it broke. He would have crushed the hand that had snaked its way through the leather of his coat to touch his feverish skin. It was crude, it was gross... And he was paralyzed. “Well, well, well, such a pretty kitten...” Two other guys, a blond with green eyes and another with tattoos on his right arm, started caressing his shoulders and waist. The Tattooed one grabbed Loki from behind and KISSED, KISSED his neck. How could he ?! It made him shiver from head to toe. Something he had never felt before. He managed to find his tongue back. “What... What do you want ?” His voice was tiny and hoarse, as if coming from someone else, someone who was afraid, in grave danger. Loki might have been often in danger but never afraid. Ever. He heard gentle and mocking laughs. The four of them were getting closer. One of them caressed his shoulder, the one with black skin started to open Loki's coat and shirt, the blond one peppered kisses on the other side of his neck and they all started groping him. Loki wanted to scream but his throat was stuck. “Thought it was obvious, kitten...” Murmured the brown-haired one, biting Loki's pale ear. “We're going to fuck you.”

****

Horror was creeping under his skin. But curiously, it was a muffled kind of horror. As if it was only a nightmare and he was about to wake up. But he wasn't. “Hands off me !!” Loki screamed. “Leave me be ! How dare you !” He was trying to free himself but they meant business. They were tightly holding him. The Tattooed One had grabbed his legs and lifted him up like he weighted nothing. The Blond One had him be the armpits while the two others held his waist, preventing him from squirming. “There, in the room, we'll be comfy.” As desperate as a cat in a bag, Loki twisted himself in vain. They seemed strong, stronger than he was, he, Loki of Asgard, who had had his fair share of monster killings, at least equal to his dumb brother's, if not more. Thor. He wanted to scream for help, to call out Thor, but pride and shame held him back. It was foolish but he couldn't help it. Better be dead than let his brother see him in that disgusting position. Those men were nothing. He HAD to get out by himself or he wouldn't bear to show his face in court again, in front of his father, if Thor knew... He would be ruined forever.

They passed through a door, Loki still suspended in mid-air by them four. Loki had barely time to register a padded room with a very large couch, similar to those in the orgy hall, with the same red velvet. He fought a last time but it seemed that his forces were slowly drained by an unknown spell. “Here, perfect. We won't be bothered.” The big one said helping put Loki down. Loki tried to stand up but four pairs of hands pinned him down, taking control of his legs and hands, touching him everywhere, tearing his clothes, baring him... “Hurry up !” Said Tattooed One. “I can't wait to screw him good !” “Yeah, me too !” Shrieked Blond One like an excited schoolgirl. Loki's whole being was shaking with disgust, contorting himself, he screamed in rage and agony. “I'LL KILL YOU ALL !” He had mustered his last strength in this last threat. He simply heard chuckles as the last shred of cloth was discarded and he felt the cold air. The hands went on and on while the four pigs where making lewd comments. “So smooth, just like a girl !” “Babe ! You've got a real bod !” One grabbed Loki's breast, another licked his side. Loki couldn't bear it but their arms were like irons. “STOP IT !” He had a dreadful feeling that all was in vain but he wouldn't give up without a good fight. Then his underwear were gone, almost torn from him and, to his incomprehension and horror, Loki realized that he was erect. It was impossible. It had to be a reflex, it had to be... Black One laughed. “You're telling us to stop when you are that hard, baby ? “ “Man, that must hurt !” Said Brown One while giving it a caress that made Loki jump and squirm. It had sent sparkles throughout his whole body. “I want to see his ass !” Blond One said and it was the signal for all of them to start the job. Loki yelled but was turned around just the same. Loki's bare behind was round and pale. He would have cried for the shame. “Wow, as expected ! Smooth like a girl !” Said Tattooed One. “ Looking real good !” “Who goes first ?” Said Blond One. “I saw him first so he's mine !” Said Brown One. “But first... We've got to prep him...” Before Loki could fight back, he was pulled up on his arms and legs, while one of them was holding his neck. He could only see the padded floor. Then he felt oily fingers penetrating... He screamed. **** At that point, he was only moaning. He was shaking so much he had to be held in place. One of them, he couldn't tell which one, was slowly fingering him, loosening up, making him open whether he wanted it or not... Worst thing was, he was doing it well, whoever he was. He was doing it in despite of Loki's consent but he was doing it smoothly and carefully. The others were obviously enjoying themselves. Loki hadn't seen them undress but they were all naked now. All of them were caressing themselves to get ready while smirking, grinning... Enjoying the show, clearly. One of them stepped forward, his prick gloriously standing. “Here, babe, suck this.” He said, caressing Loki's head. Loki felt himself opening his mouth and engulfing the prick. His mind was in a total mist by now. All will to fight back gone. Stimulated behind and possessed in front, he was weak and powerless. “Hey !” Another protested. “Not fair ! I want him to suck me too !” “Don't worry.” Said Brown One, still busy with Loki's ass. “Everyone will get their own share. But first, I'll get him ready...” “It's going to be for hours at that pace, man !” Blond One grunted. “You're too slow. Let me...” Loki felt himself turned up again. He was now one the couch, the four of them standing on the sides. Blond One was kneeling between his legs since Brown One had left Loki's ass. “Be a good boy and you won't get hurt.” Blond One told Loki. “We're going to make you feel reeeeaal good.” Loki was about to insult him when Blond One went down and licked... Licked... His hole. “NOOOOO !” Loki screamed at the top of his lungs.

Having someone's tongue in... This repulsive place... It couldn't be. Who in their sane mind would do something like that ? Loki was losing himself, even if it was sickening... “Easy, babe... We don't want to hurt you.” Brown One said. “How is he ? Ready yet ?” Another said while touching Loki's face with his thing. Loki had to push it away to make him stop. “Not yet.” Blond One left Loki's ass to answer. “Just a bit...” Something broke in Loki and he screamed again. He was released, exhausted from the fight and the overwhelming sensations. “There.” Blond One stated, rising up. “That should do it. You go.” Brown One stepped back forward as Blond One was leaving the place, grabbing Loki's right leg to lift him up. Tattooed One did the same with his left leg. Loki was offered up, wide and naked to the Brown one. “No ! DON'T !” His voice was stuck, freezing at the sight of the inevitable. “Easy, babe. It'll hurt if you fight it...” The sensation of that disgusting rod was thrilling and painful. It was tearing him slowly, softly, in the most excruciatingly tender way. It was horrifying and exciting. There was pain but also a brutal surrendering, a willingness to give up any thought, to give up any worry, to follow the flow, the heat, the scent... Loki let out a blood curdling scream, his head fell back on the pillows. The man chuckled at the sound and started to move. Everything was turned in a twirl. “My, he's tight ! We've got a cherry boy down there !” To this, in the blur that had become the world outside his millions of sensations for Loki, the others whooped and cheered. Loki moaned barely... He didn't care at all... “What, baby ? Want me to go deeper ?” Brown One didn't wait for any answer and thrust harder. Loki clenched his teeth, his eyes closed. “Man, your virgin ass is squeezing my cock so tight, baby... You'll make me come !” Loki couldn't answer back. He was panting and moaning in synch with the other' moves. He was being RAPED. His mind registered it but his body was responding on his own. Worse, the pain had receded and a sort of comfortable numbness had taken place. As if Loki's own body had decided to let got and wait for this nightmare to pass...

He was now on all four. One of them was taking him from behind while the other was making him suck. They were exchanging places and asking each other to hurry up. Loki had lost count. They were only four but it seemed they were dozens... Surprisingly, he was not hurting nor gagging anymore. “Hey ! Man, you came in his mouth before doing his ass !” “Move, I'm next !” They came, and came, and came. Loki was drenched in sweat and … other things. He was put on his back so he could breathe easily. It was the Black One. He was pounding into Loki in vain. They had finally noticed Loki wasn't coming at all. They had several times already but Loki's body wasn't getting any completion. “The hell, baby ? You don't like it ?” “Wait, I'll stimulate a bit...” Blond One tried to caress Loki's erect and sore penis but didn't get much improvement. “Man, kitten, you'll drain us all before you've even came once !” Brown One said, obviously displeased. “Wait, I have an idea...” Brown One helped Blond One to raise Loki's hips. Black one was still in Loki so it made Loki cringe. Then Tattoo One appeared, his prick up and glorious, ready again. “How about we put two at once ? It'll make him come faster.” Loki's buzzing brain finally registered what they wanted to do and horror came back at full speed. “NO !!” Loki screamed. “You can't possibly …!!” But Tattoo One knelt while straddling Black One and pushed in Loki's already oversensitive and full hole. The pain, the burn, for some dreadfully long seconds, were unbearable. Loki almost fainted.

He was darkness, he was movement, he was fullness... He was those men in the same time he was himself. It didn't matter any more who was holding him while two others were fucking him in a primal, beast-like way and the fourth was readying himself again, encouraging the group. Loki was a body amongst other bodies now, locked with many other bodies. He wasn't even really Loki anymore. “Fuck, we came again before him !” “Wow, you're a greedy sex kitten ! You're a love god !” “I can't get enough of him ! I could go all night.” Even the voices came from far away. Loki didn't care anymore whether he understood them or not. Until a booming cry pierced the numbness and woke him up. “LET GO OF HIM !!”

****

Thor. Thor, insane with anger, his hammer ready to strike. And then all came to Loki, the reality, the impossible madness he had been trapped into. Naked, raped, soiled, defiled by unknown men. And his brother, his secret love, had seen it all.

The four brutes stopped immediately. “Huh ?” Said Blond One, stupidly. “Who the fuck are you ?” Thor showed bare teeth like a lion ready for the kill. “Bastards !! I'll smash you all into bloody pieces !” Loki was about to yell to Thor not to move, that it was not what he thought, when the owner and several of his masked guards flooded the room. “Seize him !” The owner had pointed his finger to Thor. Loki had time to think that he was craey. Thinking that some pathetic minions would suffice to stop the Thunderer. In a way, he hoped they did and hit him hard enough for him to forget about his brother's shame... Actually, they did manhandled his brother, to Loki's complete astonishment. They couldn't grab Mjölnir but they did put Thor face on the ground. Loki couldn't believe what he saw. The Mighty, invincible Thor, on the ground, held by some faceless thugs. He had been drugged too. It was impossible otherwise. “Your Highness...” The owner said in a calmer voice. “We would be grateful if you refrained from disturbing our work. We'll handle this man...” He said turning to Loki's aggressors. “Please continue.” “Cool ! Thanks, dude !” Brown One replied. “You son of a pig !” Thor screamed. “You set this up ?” “Of course !” The owner turned to Thor. “This is what Prince Loki ordered...” Loki felt his breathing die. Thor was watching the owner with enormous eyes. “His 'True Desire'...” The owner concluded. Thor opened and closed his mouth. To him, this was gibberish. To Loki, it was a horrible realization. “Here, in our establishment...” The owner explained with a dramatic movement of arms. “We are proud to fulfill even the most gruesome desires of our customers. Everything is possible, beyond your wildest dreams.” He gestured towards Loki. “Prince Loki's secret True Desire, at least part of it, was to be assaulted by various men. That if he could not have his most secret wish, he would be used by many and then have his completion...” Thor turned his desperately blue eyes to his brother. “He is saying that in jest, surely ? It cannot be !” Loki was red with shame and turned away, trying to hide his need to cry. Because what the owner had said was absolutely true. If he could not have Thor, he wished to be satisfied in an orgy such that he would never long for Thor again. Loki knew it was pure madness but he couldn't really help it. It was impossible for the owner to know about it, as Loki always kept that in his innermost being. A silence followed. “Very well.” Thor finally said in cold, calm tone. “Let me do him then.” Loki's heart skipped a beat. “WHAT ?!” He yelled. “Well...” The owner though a bit. “It doesn't interfere with our objective, here. Unhand him.” “B-Brother ?” Loki asked in a very tiny voice. Thor's face was pure anger. Loki again felt that paralyzing fear. Thor started discarding his armor and throwing it away. “If you like sex that much... Then I'll fuck the hell out of you !”

Thor's knelt between Loki's legs, almost nude. The audience whooped and told him to go on. Loki was trembling with terror. “Brother, you can't...” Thor didn't answer. He simply kissed Loki with all his strength. Loki closed his eyes in reflex. He could feel Thor's warmth, Thor's tongue. Thor's kisses were teethy and possessive, making sure Loki was his. Loki was ready to faint again. This felt different. This felt right. The fact that it was Loki's first kiss was accessory. Loki was melting. He found himself ready to do anything Thor wanted, anything at all... Then the kiss was brutally broken and Thor shoved Loki's head into the mattress, cutting his breath short. “You dirty whore !!” gnarled Thor. “This is what you want, right ?” He forced Loki's legs to open and presented himself shamelessly. He was huge, bigger than anything Loki might have seen. “I swear you won't fuck anyone else once I am done with you...” Once Thor shoved himself into Loki, the pain was back again, more than ever. “Please ! Brother ! Not so fast !” Loki panted. “Huh ?” Growled Thor. “You already had your ass stretched and you're complaining, now ?” Loki whined. Too much, too big, too hot, too fast... “Brother...” He moaned. Thor's body felt different, powerful, demanding... The warmth spread everywhere in Loki's own and his mind was focused only on Thor. It had nothing to see with what he had previously experienced. It was starting to feel good with each of Thor's thrust. Finally. It grew and grew, and grew until... Loki came in a shout. When he opened his eyes again, after his heart got back to normal, he realized his brother's face was covered in semen... “So this is the 'Facial' I ordered, I guess...” Thor said licking his fingers.

They were in the middle of a circle. Loki was back on his hands and knees while his brother was mounting him forcefully, not letting him time to breathe or compose himself. As soon as he had came, his brother had taken him again and was now having him like a stallion, his breeding mare. They were covered in the seed of their audience. Meanwhile, the thugs had kept touching themselves and coming on the couple... “What is it, slut ?” Thor gnarled between thrust, holding Loki by the hair. “Want me to go harder ?” “Yes, please...” Loki murmured. Loki was now Thor's toy, Thor's possession. Thor's slave. Thor's own. And he loved every second of it. Thor roared as he came unexpectedly inside Loki who came in reaction, almost passing out. Thor, out of breath, was resting his brow on his brother's neck. “You dirty slut...” He murmured. “You let others come in you...” Curiously, the tone was almost tender to Loki's ears. But the wild beating of his blood might have darkened his senses. Soon his brother's mouth came to his ears. “Let me tell you why I had to leave Sif...” Thor said, biting the sensitive earlobe. “It's because I fell in love with this infuriating little brother of mine...” And before Loki could say or even realize anything, as they were lying on the mattress, Thor resumed roughly using Loki with a loud slapping of flesh. Loki had no strength left but to receive Thor's blows... He was in Valhalla. “Thor, Thor, Thor !!” He was coming for the third time in sync with his brother, unbelievable. Thor was moaning that he was going to “fill his ass plenty...” Their fingers were intertwined. And finally, Loki fell into a blissful darkness...

**** “Brother ? Brother ! Wake up !” Loki was brutally shaken by Thor. Trying to focus, he realized that he was back in the main room, in their booth, their drink finished. Loki was dressed and immaculate. It suddenly crashed down on him.

It had been a dream. None of it was real. He had a stupid erotic dream like a miserable teenager. Nothing was wrong in this tavern, except for the bad taste.

It had only been a dream...

He could have bawled his eyes out in disappointment.

They left peacefully. Loki grimly noticed it was almost dawn. Not that he cared, anyway... “We should head back to the palace...” Thor yawned. “We are done here.” Loki simply shook his head. He was brooding, his heart heavy. Everything was back to boring normal. He didn't care anymore. Even the owner saw them out with perfect composure. Loki had a shiver seeing him but he looked so prim and proper. It was the proof that all of this had been a product of Loki's worries and desires...

Loki was about to go to the stables to fetch the horses when Thor stopped him, grabbing his arm. His head was down and he couldn't look Loki in the eyes. “So, Brother...” Murmured a red-faced, embarrassed Thor. “Do you really like gangbangs ?”

[claretswritings]

Resentment.

Bitter fighting souls and the prize.

AO3 Google Docs

Ronin just laid on his bed. He tried to sleep, his eye opened as he attempted but his mind was loud and full of ideas he never wanted to think about. It was all there was. He had just turned over from his window when he hears it.

Sha- thunk! His eye widened and he tried not to think. He knew who it was but- not this early. Not when he just got a haven. But slowly, slowly he turns over to see him, his brother. The one he was related to by blood and not force of will. “Youxia”, the same brown hair and the same scruff on his chin but with the eye of the deep ocean abyss. He wore blacks and greys- in what Ronin began to realize was exactly like his own brown armor. He too had an eyepatch but in greys, darker then the armor but never black itself.

Youxia sat on his desk chair and looked at him as he took off his dark purple hat. “I thought you’d be happy to see me?” He says smirking and meeting Ronin’s single ice blue. And Ronin shakes his head, he doesn’t want to see him. He doesn’t want to someone who's tried and has been attempting for his life.

But Youxia laughed, a deep melodious tune that sent shivers down his spine. “Unfortunate that you got here on time- Well. I have a story to tell you.” Without prompt, he took out a necklace- A wooden dagger much like Ronin’s knife trinket. Onto it there were names, “Sadao & Sohei” And Ronin gaps at him.

“What? Didn’t think we’d be more similar then just appearance? I have a myth too. Brother.” And he hisses, his eye shining in the moonlight.

Ronin’s still, frozen to the bed and Youxia gets off from his chair walking to him. “I hate it, you know. The fact that you hold power in your hands and I’m left with nothing but the wits of my mind.”

He can’t sense anything and he’s scared, frightened. “What do you want from me?” Ronin just barely squeaks out.

“Didn’t I tell you already? I have a story to tell you.” Before he could protest the idea, Youxia was by his bedside and staring. He doesn’t stop himself whimpering. “Pathetic, aren’t you?” And he’s holding his face- touching him, Ronin reacts immediately shoving his brother away with his weak, weak hands.

But Youxia’s grip only tightens and he’s pulled forward. “Now listen to me and don’t say a word.”

He starts the story by talking about Tadao, how the former trickster simply wandered the country. How Tadao was alone and couldn’t do a thing about it. About how alone he was.

Tadao had just lost his brother, what was he supposed to do? So he just kept walking and walking until he met someone. Who was that? Why, it was someone similar to him. An itachi by the name of Sadao. Decisive was his name. However he had prefered the form of a mujina and was so taken in by the humans in that form instead. Sadao’s human form had silvery gray hair with deep abyss blue eyes. A mix of elegance and caution, That was who Sadao was. They became quick friends and travelled together.

They had worked well until Tadao started to help others again. Giving the humans tips and ideas for a better society. Sadao begged him not to but he continued anyway. Sadao was hurt that he wasn’t listened to and began to plan something. It wasn’t for several years until it came to fruit.

Sadao was going to steal his power, take it away so he couldn’t harm himself. Where Tadao had illusions, Sadao had dream abilities. He could make dreams become a reality if he so wanted to. He could make a dream into a nightmare if he thought it perfect. So while he was sleeping, Sadao snuck into his dreams and looked for his core. He found it easily and stole it away, hiding it in his own body.

But Tadao had noticed and woke up, and Sadao wasn’t prepared for the sword fight that followed. Tadao was betrayed and his actions showed. They only had each other but Tadao sought to kill him. The weasel demon tried to talk it out but it didn’t work and so he fought back in defense.

The kitsune wanted his power back, he didn’t feel whole. He was shattered in body and mind. And soon, it would be in spirit. The result ended up in a year long battle that had both dying and gasping for breath.

Tadao was teared ragged and breathing difficulty while Sadao had lost a hand and nearly torn asunder. The power of both leaks out from Sadao and they fight for it but neither getting it. Before either could grasp it, they saw it had began to fuse and something else was added to the mix.

That new something was an emotional radar, able to see the emotions for the auras that they were and shields that people formed in defense. Tadao hesitated and Sadao just barely caught it again before the kitsune’s sword cut through him. Sadao was forced to let go and in turn he threw his own sword. The final last ditch efforts of both left them dead.

It was finished and Ronin could feel tears trailing his single eye. The room was quiet, but only just. Youxia lets go of him, finally but with such a disgusted look that Ronin backs away in the bed.

“Why are you telling me this?” Ronin whispers, his sobs choking him. Youxia shrugs, “It’s only a story, isn’t it?”

“But all the myths are already true- All the stories have physical evidence-” He tries to protest, tries to get his brother’s motive but all he gets is cold sharp steel aimed at his neck.

“Your point?” Youxia growls out. When Ronin doesn’t say anything, he slips the knife away and sighs. “But, I don’t understand..”

“Understand what?” Ronin asks his voice shaking.

“What else? Your connection with that Kitsune, you’re so- weak.” And Youxia is gesturing to him, still holding the blade. “There’s nothing fitting with that fox, you’re nothing like him.”

“But we’re not friends either..” He says, clutching the blankets as if they were his lifeline. Youxia grinned at him, bare fangs shining. “Exactly, we’re brothers.”

Ronin still felt the bitter tears running his face and quickly wipes them away. He could feel Youxia watching him. He always did. A coughing fit bubbles up and he’s gagging on mucus.

Youxia waits for him to stop struggling with his breath before he continues on. “I hate you, you know. How you hold so much over me yet you act like a whelp with no home.”

Just listening to Youxia was enough to have him start curling up, where were they? The Kirins, wasn’t this their home base? “How did you find me?” Ronin eventually asks.

His brother just chuckles, “I’m sure you can figure it out yourself. If you’re smart enough.” No, I’m not. Ronin thinks trying to hide in the covers of his blankets. Youxia sees this and laughs, laughs hard enough to see stars and enough to see his misery. “I always did enjoy seeing you suffer, but I know you’ve been able to.”

“B- but it shouldn’t even be a puzzle. You just find me all the time. I can feel you watching me..”

Youxia snorted at that. “It’s not stalking if that’s what you’re thinking.” But then what would it be? All Ronin wanted from that night was sleep and he knew he wasn’t going to get any. Not while Youxia stayed like a vulture waiting for him to die.

“But you know, there will be a time when you really have to confront your problems. Confront me.” Youxia crosses his arms as if to think. “Although, I could always kill one of your friends. Or that one you call your lover.” No no no- Please no, not while he still thought Morro. Not while he still had others. Ronin shakes his head.

“Are you really going to run away?” His darker twin says frowning.

“N- No, I’m not but I don’t want to see you either. Haven’t I suffered enough?” He has some strength left, not much but he could try. Maybe- Just maybe- It’s not enough.

Youxia’s response was cackling. Terrible loud cackling, it was discordent to his ears and he felt his stability crumbling once more. “Suffering? You haven’t even felt the most of it.” Ronin wanted to protest but he could tell that Youxia wasn’t going to listen.

Except he shouts at him, not caring who was woken up. Not caring for the consequences. He didn’t want to be alone with his brother anymore. “How would you know?”

Youxia scowled and suddenly his shirt was pulled and he was back to staring at the deep dark eye of his. “How would I know? HOW WOULD I KNOW?” He barks out, spitting on Ronin’s face. “I WAS ALONE FOR GOD KNOWS HOW LONG AND THEN I MET YOU. I THOUGHT MAYBE YOU COULD BE USEFUL BUT NO. YOU WERE A WORTHLESS WEAKLING WITH POWERS YOU DIDN’T DESERVE.”

Ronin’s cringing, sniffling under his hot breath. But he continues, not giving him rest. “I HATED YOU, I HATED HOW YOU HAD SO MUCH MORE YET YOU WERE SO WEAK. PRACTICALLY A TWIG. I COULD BREAK YOU AND I WOULDN’T HAVE REGRETTED IT.” He’s pawing at Youxia’s hand but his grip only tightens as he goes on.

“I SHOULD’VE GOTTEN FATHER’S GLAIVE. I SHOULD’VE HAD THAT POWER. BUT NO, NO. IT WAS YOU WITH YOUR SMALL FRAGILE HEART.” Youxia shoves him back on the bed. Making a noise of annoyance and disgust, he dusts himself off. He sighs over Ronin’s coughing fit. “I don’t believe you really are older then me.”

Ronin wasn’t looking up when he hears a click, he glances upward just a little to see a gun aimed at him. He can’t tell what Youxia’s thinking so he stares at the barrel with wide terrified eyes. He’s silent as Youxia starts getting closer to him, until he’s kneeling beside his bed.

Youxia moves the hair out of his eyes, gently and with a serene look on his face. They stare again for a while until something blunt hits him and he feels himself going out like a shattered lamp.

The last thing he sees and hears is Youxia putting a finger to his lips and whispering something.

“Don’t worry, I was never here.”