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taechaos · 3 years

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Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it.

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least.

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself.

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin.

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion.

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily.

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing.

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs.

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees.

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening.

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane.

“Are these real stories?”

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle.

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare.

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life.

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention.

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth.

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt.

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?”

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him.

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of?

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out.

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity.

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra.

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life? Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice…

#bts imagines #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts smut #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts fic #taehyung fic #kth smut #bts #thekpopnetwork

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monstas1ut2 · 3 years

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(2/2) Sanji Vinsmoke (Smut Warning!)

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

She is a thot and you want to cuff (Huh?) She-She is a thot and you want to cuff (Huh?)

The water that was sliding down your throat ever so softly, happened to be caught and then hard to swallow when Sanji decided to say that sentence.

"Huh...?"

Sanji's face kinda faltered as he sighed, just shrugging a little. He'd done something kinda wild, well it's not necessarily wild for someone's boyfriend to buy them things but you aren't used to clothing items..

"I brought you a dress... and I just know you'll like it... I know you'll look gorgeous in it too.." Sanji was firm in his wording, just really wanting you to at least feel happy in your body just a little.. Yeah.. he definitely figured out the problem that was being slipped under his nose... and eyes for that matter.

Sanji also looked to Nami for explanations. As much as she wanted to keep it under wraps, Sanji seemed so distraught. She also knew you would take years to speak on the issue..

"Where is it.." you mumbled out, fiddling with your water bottle as your eyes gazed to the floor. Sanji's words always made you feel.. lifted. Though they could never push you over the edge.. so instead of wanting to feel that.. you decided you'd suck it up...

Sanji's funny, but cute eyebrows had raised up a little as you asked that. He himself almost forgot where he put the dress. Though he remembers putting it on the table in your closet. Your closet was adorable, it had an island in the middle that held your purses and jewelry.

"In the closet..." Sanji's face started to light up ever so gently when he told you where it was. Your form disappearing from his vision as you went upstairs... honestly Sanji couldn't believe it.. he just knows he's going to die when he sees you in it..

His heart was racing just like the first time he'd seen you..

(Sanji went to McDonald’s for Luffy…)

"Your total is $50.75 sir..."

"Oh my, you're beautiful ~~~!"

"Are You Ight...?"

That happened to be the most one sided conversation ever... you both were quite different. You both are still different in a sense, but definitely not as far apart. The both of you are in love with each other.. and seeing you come down those stairs slowly with those black heels and that dress that stuck to you like peanut butter... his nose started to bleed..

"I-.. I actually like it.." you whispered out to him as you tried covering your breasts just a little. Staring at Sanji who happened to be blushing like mad. His eyes continuing to stare oh so lovingly at you and your figure... he just had the urge to touch and give you every thing you wanted.

"I told you... you're just.. beautiful... beautiful in everything..."

"Sanji..-"

"No... really... now may I please have the opportunity to show you off..?" Sanji's voice almost sounded like a purr. Standing up, he'd walked over to you ever so gently and you watched with your lips parted. His lips pressing gently on the back of your brown skinned hand. It was always pretty to see his lighter hand against yours... not to mention how his hand was Damn hot.. hand kink maybe...?

"Let me take you to the restaurant... like we were supposed to do the other week..."

As much as you loved this dress, were you ready to leave the house with it? You felt as if Sanji set you up kinda, he was standing here looking scrumptious ... and now, he has you standing here radiating the same energy... there was no excuse now...

"You sneaky lil boy..." you grumbled playfully as you tried to hold back a smile, pointing at Sanji as he started to softly smile. Of course he knew he was sneaky... only to make you happy though...

"Fine... I'll go..."

"(Y/n)-swannnnn~"

"Mhm..."

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

The place of course was beautiful, it's Sanji's restaurant. The place was filled with so many people that your anxiety was rushing towards the top. So many people were also staring because you were hand in hand with Sanji. The owner of the restaurant.. the 5-star restaurant.

Swallowing your nerves, Sanji squeezed your hand gently. Causing you to look up at him as you both were sat at the best table. The water was pretty, you could see it as you sat gently with Sanji.. the man who was inching his hand over to you... it was odd to feel his hand on your thigh, but you decided to touch his bigger hand. That definitely caught him off guard, his eyes kind of widened, especially when you gently leaned your head against his shoulder.

Sanji's love language is exactly this, being able to touch and caress every curve.. every imperfections you hate... he will definitely love.

"I know you like (f/f)... do you want that (y/n)-Chan..?" It was odd how Sanji still remembered such a little thing. You loved (f/f) and especially from his restaurant because the cooks were amazing. At the same time though, you really didn't want to add any more weight to yourself..

The look on your face was obvious to Sanji and oh so suddenly he looked sternly at you when you had removed your head from his shoulder.

"You can eat... and if you don't I'm taking the lace back."

"*gasp* you Ass-.."

"Get the food and eat it." Sanji said simply and honestly, this was the most serious you've seen him. He threatened to take your wig back, like come on he's serious... All you could muster up was a little mumble but Sanji gave you this look... he was really serious about you eating.. and it was kinda hot.

Of course though, minutes later, you were served your (f/f) and it tasted like heaven. At the same time though you were kinda quiet because of Sanji.. he's just trying to love you and the fact is.. you weren't letting him.

So today you were going to do something you'd never done before.. it's a new page.

Putting your utensil down, you gently cupped Sanji's face. He kinda widened his eyes and he could feel your acrylics.. he loved them a lot.. his favorite color is just plain white by the way..

Anyways, he could smell your gentle scent as you got closer and your lips were a centimeter from his ear. To be honest he felt himself already getting heated for nothing... though he couldn't help it.

"I love you... and thank you fa dealin with me...I can't really give you anything but... I could give ya dessert..." the air tickled his ear as he listened to your erotic whisper. Watching as you moved away and let go of his chin. Smiling at him once more before continuing to eat like you've done nothing...

Oh you've sparked fire..

The rest of the date was soft and romantic, it consisted of Sanji wanting to devour you right then and there.. but you obviously refrained that. Taking a little sip of that wine that was offered to you. God you looked irresistible, your back just arched so well and your thighs spread like butter when you sit down... that's talent.

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

The ride home was quiet, a soft quiet, the aura was quite tense though. The way your heart was racing was like a person on a broken rollercoaster. The feeling of Sanji's hand against the smol of your back when you both walked into the house was more of a warning.. the warning that this was going to get a bit messy.

"Sanji!" You gasped out in surprise.

Feeling the air swift past you, it's just something you couldn't believe. Sanji just picked you up...

The blonde simply threw you over his shoulder and he even carried you up the stairs.. your legs slightly flailing as your heels were being taken off by him. You could see them in the hallway when he passed by them. The destination being the bedroom, and that wasn't far... he stepped through the frame and in seconds you were plopped on that bed.

"Sanji are you crazy!?" You spoke with shock, just kind of propping yourself up with your elbows. Staring into the male's much darker orbs. Immediately shutting up when you saw him loosen his tie with his slender finger. Staring you down with the energy of a bull. The tie being slid off and dropped to the floor..

"I want my dessert now (y/n)-swan..." Sanji gently teased, his hands taking your ankles and gently slid you downwards towards him so you could be at the edge of the bed. You legs being lifted and your dress being slid up to your waist... all you could think was that Sanji was going to gag..

This man was going to see the stretch marks and the odd fat... and.

Actually... he was at loss of words... his nose actually started to bleed too... though he wiped it away. He didn't want to pass out now.. no...

"May I please.. continue (y/n)...?"

"Mhm..." humming this, you were amazed and surprised at the fact that he still wanted to continue.. what you failed to realize is that Sanji loved your thickness... and he wanted to bite a chunk..

Getting your consent, Sanji felt this rush of excitement. Pushing your thighs forward with his hands and your knees were now to your chest. Feet dangling in the air as you saw Sanji slowly start to go down... where was he going...?

The sudden cold air hitting your soft, pussy lips that weren't like anything he'd seen before honestly. Though they looked like soft brown marshmallows.. your panties hitting the ground as you let out a loud gasp. Throwing your head back from the wet feeling of Sanji's tongue.

"..My ..god-..." Sanji heard those two words from your throat, his smirk not visible to you but you could sense it. He literally had his tongue lick up your slit.. something you thought would never happen to you. It was so overwhelming.

"Ngh! Sanji! S-Slow down, baby..." you whimpered out, your eyes staring down at the blonde. His eyes staring right back at you... he could taste every inch of you, your juices were leaking all on his goatee. Your brown thighs enclosing him... he didn't care... he didn't care if he couldn't breathe..

Though this was technically your doing, as much as it hurt to let him see your body.. you've finally let him and now he's a cheetah... a lion.. a tiger.. anything but Sanji right now.. especially since you teased him in his own restaurant.. wearing the tight dress and those heels.. he'd just do anything to see your pretty (e/c) eyes rolling back because of him.

The feeling of his lips sucking gently at your folds, caused the pit of your stomach to form butterflies. Just staring up at the ceiling when you relaxed.. tried to at least.

His nails somewhat digging into your hips, it may have felt harsh but you liked the feeling. Being unable to move anywhere else just showed how dominant he wanted to be tonight. Your hand slowly sliding down as you slipped your fingers through his blond locks. Gripping at his hair ever so gently.. simply trying not to hurt him.. but the way he was passionately kissing at your pussy was sending you off the edge.

The lewd slurping sounds echoing as your toes curled, panting out loudly.

"You taste like heaven, (n/n)..." Sanji purred out, the vibrations of his talking giving you this shock of pleasure. He could hear the soft jiggling of your anklet near his ear. He remembered buying that for you... it simply says : S + (your initial).

The power he held was starting to make you twist and turn, trying to move away from his grasp. The dress being such a cockblock at the moment. You just wanted to see him a bit more so you took the rest of it off... eagerly.. Your breasts being shielded by the bra you had on.

"S-Sanji-.. fu-..Fuck... right there, m'gonna cum.. m'gonna cum~..."

Your gasping and pleads weren't making Sanji push away either. His tongue slipping inside of you for the thousandth time as he felt your pussy pulse and ache for something more to push you over that edge. His slender fingers sneakily prodding at your entrance. The slick and wetness of your pussy just made it so easy to slip a finger in. This causing you to jolt and your body shook with a pleading sound.

Sanji could tell your orgasm was here, the tight hold on his finger making him smirk against your lips.

"F-Fuck... don't touch-.. touch it anymore.." You whined out, immediately closing your legs when Sanji moved his head from between your legs. Your (e/c) eyes were closed tightly before slowly opening them again, watching as Sanji started to remove his own clothing.

Considering you were at the edge of the bed, you sat up slowly and your pretty face had a little bit of drool on the side of your mouth. Not to mention how your hair was a bit frazzled.

Staring up at him with lust and love, Sanji chuckled and decided to bend down and kiss your glossy lips. The lip gloss still stayed... not surprising... that Broadway is no joke-

The kiss was deep, the taste of your pussy was mixed in with what the two of you had at that restaurant along with cigarette smoke.. an odd combination of things, no lie.. but it was addicting to taste. A little moan releasing from your throat as your kiss started to become sloppy, your tongue swirling around Sanji's as he started to unbuckle his belt.. though what he didn't expect you to do was push his hands away. Your pretty hands slowly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

Slowly breaking the kiss as the saliva was still connected. Sanji's pants being shuffled down by you as you continued to stare up at him. His eyes in slight disbelief, though more of a blush.. watching you take out his hard cock.. your hand gently wrapping around it as you leaned down more and wrapped your pretty lips around it.

Sanji doesn't know what you do to make them so pretty, that dark lip liner mixed with the lip gloss.... He dies, especially since it's around his cock. His precum making an appearance, but dripping in your mouth already.

Tasting him, he seemed to taste salty more than anything. Moving your hand and slowly sucking him in deeper as you moved your head up and down. Your (e/c) eyes looking up to his softer ones. He just looked so cute and hot, so why not give him the gawk gawk 5000? You may be new to sex itself but you're not that much of a saint.

"A-Ah...s-slow down (n/n).."

The same words you told him, now being said by him... pitiful...

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

The smell of erotic pleasure turned up to 100%. Your breasts being softly sucked on by Sanji. They were just like Hershey kisses. His hands almost nailing your wrists beside your head as he felt your pussy pulse around him. He deflowered you and now he was going to give you the time of your life..

"Sa-Sanji~... why you so big~..."

The male had to hold his nose because lord knows he couldn't take that. The words and the nasty things you were saying were going to be etched in his brain forever... he just hopes he doesn't think of things like this when he's working... he'll die..

"You have such a naughty mouth my dear..."

"Then spit in it..."

Lord... Nope, Sanji couldn't take it, giving you your first taste of a thrust. Your breath being kicked out of you as your eyes rolled back gently.

"I-... Sanji, keep doin that..." you softly pleaded, your thighs jiggling each time he'd thrust inside of you. Sanji was staring down at his cock continuously disappearing inside you. Watching as you swallowed him just the way he likes it. Call him crazy but he didn't even think of a condom. He didn't want it... he it wanted raw, you wanted it raw...

He needs... quote, needs you to have his babies for sure...

Your breasts was bouncing all wildly when Sanji started to speed up. Your moans not getting any quieter. The bed was being beaten into the wall.. which he'd definitely have to get repaired..

"A-..agh! S-Sanji, daddy-... cum w-with me.. please!"

That nickname slipped from your mouth as your insides clenched around him. Almost trapping him inside as your eyes squeezed shut, feeling Sanji continue to push his way. His loud moans sounded so hot... he was shameless in telling you that this was amazing...

"Damn-... I'm cumming..." Sanji groaned as he watched your pretty eyes once you'd open them again.. the feeling washing over both of you as your nails attached to Sanji's back. Scratching down it with love. The white cum actually overfilling you, a total creamepie... it was so sticky. Your legs trembling a little from the impact.. and you could barely breathe.

Swallowing your butterflies, you figured it was over.. though out of the blue... Sanji was now smoking another cigarette and you just blinked.

"We're not done yet, my beautiful (Y/n)"

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ Masterlist 2

#black reader #poc reader #smut #one piece x poc!reader #vinsmoke sanji #ambw #bwam

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soldrawss · 4 years

Note

pls grace us with those headcanons of the human turtle bois 🥺

OK ok ok ok ok okokokokokokok I’m so fucking glad you asked because I’ve been wanting an excuse to talk about my boys for AGES now. Here and here a post I did a little while ago about how the boys came into custody with Yoshi, but I’m gonna talk about when they’re older and teens since that’s fun! Pictures of them as teens, for context, are here and here.

So they’re technically all half brothers, except for Raph and Mikey cause I wanted that relationship for them.

Raph is the oldest, at 16. Donnie and Leo are the same age, though they aren't twins, at 15. Mikey is 13. I wanted to make Mikey a little younger than the rest of them because he’s baby

Raph and Mikey are half Ghanaian, Donnie is half Italian, and Leo is half Cuban.

Yoshi still works as movie/action star Lou Jitsu, and it was Yoshi’s wish to keep his boys out of the spotlight as much as possible, so they could keep normal lives. So as far as all their schoolmates and teachers know, the Hamoto’s dad just runs a dojo on Prospect Avenue. Which is partially true, actually, and the boy’s current living place is above said dojo)

Mikey likes to express himself in the way he looks, so he’s always dying his hair and wearing bright and colorful clothing and jewelry. His favorite thing to wear is Raph’s giant sweaters, which he steals on a daily basis because he knows he can get away with it. Raph only complains about it half the time.

When Yoshi finally agreed to let Mikey get his ears pierced at age 10, Mikey was excited but secretly terrified to do it. Leo knew Mikey wanted to do it, but understood that it was scary to do it alone, so he volunteered to get his ears pierced too, using the excuse that it could be ‘their’ brother thing they did. Mikey was of course, ecstatic, and Leo didn’t mind the weird looks the other 12-year-old boys gave him on his little league team. Cause Mikey’s been parading the biggest smile on his face for the past week now, and if he’d known that it would've made the kid that happy, Leo would have gotten matching earrings years ago. (Now Leo goes with Mikey every time he gets his ears pierced. It’s sort of a fun bonding thing they get to do, and both of them enjoy the one-on-one time they get with each other.)

Even though Donnie is only a sophomore, he’s also taking concurrent classes at the local college that’s only a few blocks down the street, and even though he loves learning and is a literal little evil genius, he also hates the American education system, and actually got quite a bit of bad grades growing up before he had to teach himself how to perform and present his work the way the school could grade him properly on.

The only reason he doesn’t skip a grade or two, which he easily could if he took the aptitude tests some of his teachers try to get him to take every year, is because he doesn’t want to be separated from Leo.

Donnie has 4 sets of glasses at home because he’s constantly breaking them. Either from failed experiments or from getting into fights with schoolyard bullies and kids from his robotics class. (He and Raph both definitely have temper issues, and while Raph works really hard to keep his in check with breathing and physical exercise, Donnie just fully gives in to his, like a short live wire)

All the boys know a good amount of martial arts from Yoshi, though they’re never allowed to use it outside the dojo unless it’s specifically called for, (like a mugging or as self-defense) and are never allowed to use their weapons without Yoshi present. (though, Yoshi goes away a lot to California to shoot his movies, so the boys are left home alone a lot. And when dad’s away, the boys will play. Raph is pretty good about making sure the weapons never leave their home or dojo, but sometimes Leo and Mikey will try to knock down soda cans in the kitchen with throwing stars, and as long as nothing gets broken or too damaged in the process, Raph thinks it's fine)

Leo is extremely sporty, and while all the boys have their own hobbies they like to do (Mikey with his art and theatre classes, Donnie with his robotics and science olympiad teams, and Raph with his boxing club) it’s Leo who shines in the sports clubs. His favorites are Baseball and Basketball. He used to do soccer with Mikey when they were little, but he didn’t like the contact of it so much, and there was really no point to continue playing it after Mikey quit. (Leo is fast and scrappy when he wants to be, but he respects himself and his body was too much to try and play a contact sport like football. Plus, all the guys on the high school teams are jerks anyway, so Leo doesn’t even bother with them.)

Raph has always been a big and strong guy, even when he was a kid, he was always bigger and broader than most of the kids his age, and this trend didn’t stop in middle or high school. He got recruited to be in wrestling and football a LOT, but he has a bad knee due to a car accident when he was young (also the reason behind all the scars on his body) and can’t put too much pressure on it for too long without wrecking it. So he takes up boxing, which he absolutely loves. It’s a good way for him to keep his energy up and get a good workout in without hurting his knee, and it also helps him keep his anger in check. Whenever anything stressful or anxiety-inducing comes around, a few rounds with the training dummies and punching bags in the dojo do well to clear his mind and work out some of those microaggressions.

The boys don’t have a whole lot of actual friends. Sure they have friends in their classes or clubs, but none of them they would consider a best friend, quite like they would consider April a best friend. She’s special. She’s the only one who gets all the perks.

They met April on a playground, like, 5 years ago, when some kids were making fun of Leo’s vitiligo, and she essentially swooped in and defended him and scarred the bullies off. Boom. Instant best friend forever. She’s also the only one that knows that Yoshi is actually Lou Jitsu. (she learned by accident, but she swore to eternal secrecy, so it’s cool)

Leo is allergic to shellfish. (Don’t know why this needed to be stated but it did)

Mikey’s the only one who has ever been suspended from school. (It was just a three-day suspension but still)

Donnie has a bad back from leaning over his computer and desk so much while working, that sometimes he has to wear a back brace and just lie flat on the ground for a few hours to stretch it out (Sometimes he just forgoes these steps and just continues to wok through the pain. Leo and Mikey have to physically threaten to get Raph to sit on him for him to actually try and take care of himself)

Mikey has a scar on his upper back from the same car accident when Raph and he were young. It doesn’t hurt and he forgets it’s there most of the time.

They technically have two places they stay at. When their dad is in town and home from a movie shoot, they live in a penthouse suite in Batter Park City. They all have their own rooms there. But when their dad is away, they choose to live in the apartment above the Lou Jitsu Dojo that’s closer to their school and clubs, in Brooklyn. (That apartment is smaller, but the boys like the comfort it brings and prefer that one. Mikey and Leo share one room, while Raph and Donnie share the other)

When their father is away, they have a nanny that lives right next door, who’ve they affectionately call Piebald, due to her ginger hair and her giant koi fish tank set up in her living room. (Piebald had been their nanny ever since the boys were little kids, and she’s practically like a big sister to them)

#rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt human #tmnt human #rottmnt human au #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #this will just be known as my human au for now #because i don't know what to call it otherwise #but yeah i love this au so much #and i love the boys dearly #these are the basics #i can't think of any other specific hcs other than these #but if you have more questions about them please ask #i love talking about this au and the boys #<3

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

Text

The Thief and the Tinker, Part 3: I See Fire

part 2

Part 3

Viren: Well how do you suggest we get him out?

Claudia: *grins, brandishes marshmallow on toasting fork* Unharmed is just another kind of harmed

Viren: Claudia no

Claudia: Claudia YES

I See Fire

Angst rating: 9/10

Viren is clever enough not to take the Silvergrove on alone, no matter how badly he wants Ethari to make him a magic key. Aaravos could be cooking in that pod for a while longer, but Viren still has a trustworthy and badass ally at his side.

Oh yeah, it's Claudia Time again!

Claudia is a powerful and imaginative dark mage, and she has the tainted Sun staff. So, you're the magefam, and you've made it to Xadia, to the edges of the Moonshadow Forest. And all you need to do to get the power of your dreams is to threaten one soft craftsman. But how do you find one specific Moonshadow elf in a hidden Moonshadow village somewhere in the middle of a giant spooky magical forest?

You burn him out.

Credit once again to@random-fandom-ramble for reminding me of this forest fire headcanon, because it fits so well. and so I don't get all the blame for this one, lol

Because see, that's not ordinary fire. Oh, no. That's dark magic fire. We've seen that before. It leaves permanent scars. Remember Sol Regem's eyes?

That's going to be the landscape when Claudia's fire gets through with the Moonshadow elves' home. Where I live on the US West Coast, they name forest fires, and if they combine, they get called complexes. So maybe we can name this fire the Dark Tragedy Complex? Because I do have to wonder... you could start a dark magic forest fire easily with a tainted Sun staff, but how do you put it out?

Two things are going to happen if these events should unfold. One is angsty. The other is also angsty but then amazing.

Firstly, Viren is going to get what he wants. He'll find Ethari, whose tree burned down :(. He'll show him the coins, and he'll offer a trade. Build what he wants and make it work, and Ethari can have his family back, uncoined and free.

And Ethari will say yes.

He'll say yes no matter what anyone else tries to persuade him to do, and I hope they do try, because see: Ethari has to make it look good. He has to make it look like he's all in on Viren's plan, to Viren. Even if that means turning his back on his people in their time of greatest need.

Secondly, the Moonshadow elves are going to be collectively homeless and bereft, hungry, injured, terrified, angry. They will have nowhere to go. They will be a people without a home. And no one else in Xadia will help them. Maybe they're too terrified to hide Ethari's people in case doing so brings Viren down on them, too. We've seen how ordinary elves flee in terror from dark magic. Maybe they're all fighting other issues, too. Viren knows all about stretching resources too far during times of crisis. Whatever the case, there will be no welcome anywhere in Xadia for the Moonshadow elves of the Moonshadow Forest.

But here's where it gets amazing. Because one hand will reach out. One small hand, from across the border. Good King Ezran will stand up on the seat of his throne and say, "You can stay here. I have forests. You're tired, you're hungry. You need medicine. Let me help."

And I'm gonna cry like a little baby.

How many cycles does this break, how many circles does it complete? Moonshadow elves used to live in Katolis before the border was created. When humans were under threat of total annihilation, the Moonshadow leader's daughter spoke up and asked for mercy. That mercy came in the form of land reassignment, and the Moonshadow elves had to give up their ancestral home, their Nexus, and travel east across the new Border. But that mercy got paired with justice, and the life-loving Moon Druids probably had to swear some kind of blood promise to keep an eye on the humans forevermore, and to kill any individuals who got out of hand, as if their sins were the Moonshadows' responsibility now.

That's got to breed a little resentment, a little superiority. "Look what we sacrificed for you, and this is how you act. Ungrateful." And maybe that was partially Luna Tenebris's goal: to hold to her vision of justice, she had to make the elves who shared her arcanum feel a little resentment. Moonshadows love life, but we can't have them being too soft to keep Xadia safe from dark mages, now, can we? I will never stop cackling over dragon politics okay, never

But the Moonshadow elves never figured on King Ezran. A soft boy who refused to let his father's assassination harden his heart, because every life is genuinely important to him. I've seen headcanons for Ezran getting the Sun, Earth, Ocean, and Stars arcanum. How about Moon, too? Because this is very Ethari of him, and if these stories of Viren's plan and the Moonshadow elves' displacement were actually to happen in tandem, the contrast between Ezran's soft choice and Ethari's hard one would be mindblowing.

Ezran completes the circle by inviting the Moonshadow elves to return to Katolis, to their ancestral home. They left long ago, paying the price for an act of mercy, but they were welcomed back by the mercy of humans, repaid after a thousand years, repaid in the face of tragedy. Tragedy on all sides. Tragedy Ezran wants to stop from happening, by being brave and caring and soft, and by being the first to break this thousand-year cycle between Katolis and the Moonshadow elves.

Rayla is his friend. And these are her people. It won't matter what they've done, only that they need help in a time of great desperation. And of course he'll help them. He's Ezran, and he's Katolis's greatest treasure.

Oh, what's that you say? Inviting the Moonshadow elves to settle in Katolis again would make it easier for Rayla to live with Callum in the future? Oh gosh, how about that? What a deal. *smug matchmaker noises*

And once the Moonshadow elves understand that they're safe and begin to trust Ezran--which could happen very quickly, because saving a Moonshadow elf's life when you didn't need to is a really fast way to prove you're trustworthy--maybe Ezran will be encouraged to take the next step toward peace, and eventually other elves and dragons will come to meet together to talk it over. And Ez will offer them jelly tarts, which they will love.

Back to Ethari, because we're not done with him yet. Ethari is soft, but he isn't weak. He won't be a willing pawn for Viren. He loves Runaan to the point of invention, and his devotion is more constant than the moon itself. He'll agree to do what Viren says, and he'll be Very Sad. But his spirit is in no way broken. Viren bribing him with the coins containing his family will only have the opposite effect. It'll give Ethari something to fight for.

We could get Focused Chaos Ethari. We could get Angery Trickster Ethari. We could get Rules, What Rules? Ethari. Let him try to steal the coins, try to break them, try to kill Viren, and be stymied at every turn, until he settles and seems cowed. And then all he does is craft his way out of the problem. What if we are gifted with Iron Man Ethari, who pretends to build a fake Key for Viren, but meanwhile he's really building a coinbuster with whatever he can get his hands on - primal stones, magically imbued gemstones, stolen artifacts, his own arcanum, his own reputation as the Master Craftsman of the Silvergrove. He'll use almost- almost - anything, to stop Viren and free his family.

Ethari may have to choose between those two things, though. And he's a hero, deep down, just like his family, just like his daughter. If he has to choose, he'll choose to stop Viren and save Xadia. He'll pay the same price as his family has if he must.

He'd let Viren think he was motivated purely by wanting his family back, but Ethari is far too steeped in the illusion and sacrifice for that to be all there is to his motives. It's a so-close-and-yet-so-far thing, how he and Viren almost embody the same ideals. Almost. Ethari would take one look at Viren, who just burnt down his whole Forest, he'd see the biggest threat in Xadia, and he'd say anything to get a chance to stop this juggernaut of destruction from getting his hands on whatever that ultimate power really is, locked behind that missing key. If he has to abandon his people and bawl his eyes out to convince Viren he's in, then he will.

And Viren wouldn't make it easy for him. He knows clever when he sees it. He went through all this trouble to persuade Ethari to work with him. He would need to keep Ethari as off-balance as possible to ensure that he keeps working as he should.

Angsty jewelry, anyone: Viren giving Ethari his husband in pendant form to remind him what he's working for, when Viren and Ethari both know full well that only dark magic can open the hellcoins. Ethari wearing another pendant of his love, except it's not a metaphor this time. It's literally his love, in a coin around his neck.

Viren would know that Ethari would have to stay close to Viren of his own free will if he ever hoped to free Runaan. And making people bind themselves to you is a big power flex. Remember that TDP stream future-season teaser note about Bait being in a creepy restraint in a future season?

This card is written on in all-caps, so that really could be "Bait" or "bait," or--knowing this show--both. Viren's been using Runaan as bait for Ethari all along. Putting his coin in a dark magic pendant casing for Ethari to wear would be a great parallel for that. Oh god. Oh man.

Maybe he'll stab the coin's scary casing right through that circle on Ethari's chest, right over his heart, make that Iron Man reference really obvious. Ethari also losing his shirt at some point, for angsty Viren-related reasons? It's more likely than you think. I mean... Ethari is literally involved in both forms of forging at this point. Shirt's gotta come off for uhhhh work reasons. And because he's hot. Because of all the forging. I mean how else are we finally going to discover what his markings look like

I mentioned that I liked god-tier villains, right? Yeah, this is amazing. I haven't wanted to die and ascend over an idea for quite a while, but Ethari vs Viren in a drawn-out battle of wills would kill me in the best way. Especially since, while it looks like they're essentially fighting for who gets Runaan, they're truly fighting a much larger battle with much higher stakes. They're fighting for the future itself. It's an epic struggle between the Narrative of Strength and the Narrative of Love. And we've seen what happens, over and over, when the Narrative of Strength gets to call the shots.

On a meta note: If Runaan and Ethari's story arc isn't a love letter from one trauma survivor to another, and on a broader scope to all survivors who see it, I don't know what is. Sometimes life just chews us up and spits us out and we can't stop it and it breaks us. But sometimes we can reach out and grasp the chance to help each other, even after that, even when it hurts a lot, because we know what it means to be loved, and to love, and to want a safer future for each other and for people we'll never meet. The future is worth standing together for, helping each other back up for, fighting side by side for, even if you can't see how it'll end, or even how to begin. We are stronger together, and sometimes we need to fight for our "together" before we can fight for anything else. And that's worth it, every time.

This is glorious, it's beautiful, it's tragic, it's amazing, it makes me want to dance, it makes me want to scream into the void, it makes me want to slap someone with a semi truck. No, someone specific, don't worry, and he super deserves it.

Because Ethari is going to win. He was always going to win. He's soft, and he's clever, and he hasn't forgotten what love means. It's what he's fighting for. Not power, not control. Love. He doesn't want to dictate Runaan's future, or anyone else's. He just wants his husband--and everyone else--to have one at all.

So he's going to win.

What beating Viren looks like, I can't guess yet. TDP is no stranger to angst, so there will probably be a high cost involved in thwarting the dark mage. Maybe not everyone can be rescued from the coins. Maybe Ethari will lose his life, or his soul, or his vision, or something else really angsty. Viren could even kill him and resurrect him as a smoky craftsman, or a zombie craftsman, or something equally biddable but horrible. The only thing I'm sure of is that Ethari would never willingly make a working Key of Aaravos Ethari as long as there's a chance Viren could possess it. But I do believe that if he gets the right opportunity while he's busy saving the world from Viren's dark intentions, he'll break his husband's hellcoin open somehow and set him free, even if he has to smile at the devil to do it.

part 4

#tdp #tdp theory #tdp speculation #tdp parallels #viren #ethari #laindrin #runaan #moonshadow elves #moonshadow assassins #hopepunk #tdp angst #heavy angst #tw trauma

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girlsgonemildblog · 3 years

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Valley of the Dolls and Hollywood's Desire to Self-Protect

Poster from imdb.com

Valley of the Dolls (1967) tells the story of three young women working in show business in the 1960s. Originally adapted from Jacqueline Susann’s 1966 book by the same name, the screenplay was written by two women, Helen Deutsch and Dorothy Kingsley. The director for the film, though, was a man, named Mark Robson. The plot centers around three protagonists, Anne Welles, Neely O’Hara, and Jennifer North. Their stories connect and separate several times as they each navigate Hollywood, growing in stardom and fading into oblivion. All three storylines follow two themes, the role of women in the 1960s and the abuse of drugs by these women to deal with the pressures of their culture. The film largely stays true to the novel, but alters some important aspects in order to soften the critique that Susann originally proposed. Valley of the Dolls is an attempted commentary on societal demands on women in the 1960s, but is unsuccessful in its criticism due to continuing to perpetuate several misogynistic standards and Hollywood trying to alleviate itself of guilt.

Valley of the Dolls is one of few movies from its era that centers on multiple female leads without allowing for any male characters to come in and dominate the narrative. The story goes further than to just portray women, and even passes commentary on the harmful expectations put on them by society. There are messages about the workforce, body image, and marriage roles all present. Still, while the film may seem to have a feminist message for most of the plot, it falls short in its final moments. The two women, Neely and Jennifer, who are outwardly ambitious and more sexually promiscuous, are punished for their behavior, while the virginally pure and soft spoken Anne is the one who gets a happy ending, though not in the traditional sense.

The first woman to look at is Neely O’Hara (Patty Duke). Neely, the youngest of the three, is also the most talented and the most ambitious. While her two co-protagonists experience minor stardom, Neely becomes a full-fledged celebrity. As Neely begins her rise to the top, she is forced to work out, despite already being nearly rail thin. During her work-out montage, she even asks her trainer, “you call this acting?” This moment serves to show that for women, being an actor was not strictly about their talent, but also the way they looked. Working out is a part of the job for Neely because if she gains weight, people will no longer want to look at her and thus she won’t be able to be on stage or screen.

The affect of her ambition on her womanhood is also seen through the depiction of her first marriage to her hometown sweetheart, Mel (Martin Milner). When Neely gets her big break, she asks Mel to marry her, flipping the tradition of a man asking a woman. This is the first evidence of the gender role reversal that will be present later. In one scene, after Neely has made it and begun earning more money, the audience sees that Mel is now in charge of keeping house, a job typically meant for the wife at this time. The two get into an argument and Mel, sick of being bossed around by Neely, states, “I am not the butler,” to which Neely retorts, “you’re not the bread winner either.” The two get divorced shortly after. In the beginning of the movie, as Neely is about to be cut out of the broadway show, Mel gives her advice on how to handle the situation in a way that is both best for her career and best for earning money. Mel is more than happy to support Neely’s ambition when she is starting out and he is controlling her success. When Neely grows beyond his grasp, begins to overshadow him, and no longer needs him, the turmoil of their relationship begins. Mel’s male ego cannot handle having a wife who not only is not reliant on him, but who he is reliant on.

In contrast, Jennifer’s fatal flaw is not her ambition but her body. The audience is introduced to Jennifer (Sharon Tate) as she is scantily clad in a leotard with a giant showgirl headpiece on. Her first line is concern that she cannot walk, “I feel a little top heavy,” to which her director replies, “Dear, you are top heavy.” This is met by a chorus of laughter from the men in the room and clear distress from Jennifer’s face. Jennifer’s sin is simply her breasts and her beauty; she is punished for merely existing in her natural form. On the phone with her mother, she states, “I know I don’t have any talent, and I know all I have is my body.” She recognizes that she has no marketable skills, but with the way that society has commodified the female figure, she can use her natural assets to get ahead.

Jennifer’s plot line introduces the character of Miriam (Lee Grant), the sister of Jennifer’s husband, Tony (Tony Scotti). Miriam also manages Tony. This is interesting because all the other women in the film are controlled by men, but Miriam is not only not controlled by a man, but controls one herself. Jennifer, who seems not to have a manager, but operates as an independent, eventually is taken on by Miriam, emphasizing the way that Miriam acts as a male figure, controlling and dominating her world like men normally do. Miriam eventually sells Jennifer into porn. When Jennifer tries to protest, Miriam insists, “Tony wouldn’t know the difference.” Jennifer’s plea of “well, I would,” falls on deaf ears. Miriam views the world like a man, thinking only a husband should be offended by his wife’s immodesty, not recognizing that the woman is also a person with feelings about the exposure of her own body.

Jennifer’s whole life and career is based on her body. When she is diagnosed with breast cancer and must get a mastectomy, she states, “all I ever had was a body. All I know how to do is take off my clothes.” She is realizing that without her breasts, she will have no way of earning a living or supporting herself, as she has done her whole life. This drives her to suicide, deciding she would rather die than lose her body. The message of this scene is clear; despite the fact that society has deemed her figure the only thing that gives her value, her exploitation of it still must be punished by death. Women are supposed to surrender to the forces of the patriarchy, not use them to their own advantage.

The third protagonist, the redeemable protagonist, is Anne Welles (Barbara Parkins). Anne is introduced at the very beginning of the film through her own narration as she tells the listener that her family’s home has been around since the revolution, showing that she represents American tradition. The story of George Washington drinking from their well symbolizes that people like Anne are what give America life. This American idealization is what protects Anne throughout her career. As she enters the office for the first time to the slut shaming of a pregnant cat, the audience immediately knows that this place will not be very friendly to women. This is fortified when her boss tells her she is “too good looking” for her job and talks about getting her “broken in”. This is exemplifying the idea that beautiful women aren’t meant for work while also objectifying them by talking about women like they’re shoes.

Her romantic interest, Lyon (Paul Burke), who is also her boss, calls Anne, “barely pink” when he first meets her, admiring how young she is. He later tells her that jewelry is not for her, and that she should only be gifted flowers, specifically white ones. These are both attempts to preserve Anne’s delicacy, or “pinkness”. Diamonds and gold are too flashy for a soft spoken woman like Anne, and the white flowers clearly symbolize purity. Constantly throughout the entire film, the audience is reminded of Anne being special and unlike other “bad” women such as Neely or Jennifer. At one point Lyon tells Anne that no other girls compare to her because they can’t “stand up to her image”. Not her actual person or personality, but her image. Anne does not have actual personhood in the eyes of Lyon, but exists only as the idealized woman.

This is further exemplified when she becomes the Gillian Girl. The man who hires her says he wants someone known with Gillian exclusively. The idea here is they want her to be only an image of beauty and innocence; if she works with other brands or as an actress she becomes more than one-dimensional and people can discover that she may have flaws. Anne’s ability to maintain her image of perfection and purity throughout the entire film is why she gets to live happily ever after at the end, unlike her two counterparts. She returns to her hometown and lives out the rest of her life as the embodiment of American tradition.

This movie gets its title from the nickname that Neely gives the pills that she and the other two protagonists all become addicted to. The name, “dolls”, calls to mind a picture of girlhood and female adolescence, highlighting how young Neely is (only 17) when the story begins. Many movies of the 1960s, such as Dennis Hopper’s Easy Rider (1969) were depicting taking psychedelic drugs and having crazy trips. Valley of the Dolls shows a different type of drug use, the abuse of painkillers. Though the main characters are movie stars and models, their drug habit was likely more relatable to the suburban movie-going audience than that of Hopper’s characters. It was all too common for housewives to be prescribed “mother’s little helpers” to deal with what was condescendingly written off as “hysteria”. Another difference between these two movies is that psychedelic trips were portrayed as freeing, eye-opening experiences. In contrast, the painkillers are entrapping for the women and ultimately ruin their careers and end their lives.

The character who has the least interaction with the “dolls” is Anne. This is done to keep the idea of Anne as the “pure”, “good” character. The way she begins to take the drugs is interesting, though; she first picks up the bottle when she realizes that her long-term boyfriend, Lyon, is having an affair with her best friend, Neely. This serves two purposes. This first is that it shows that the pills are not used for pleasure, like psychedelics would be, but for numbing purposes. This also displays the corruptive force of Hollywood; it is not until the plot moves from New York to Hollywood that these women turn sour. Because of this city, Neely betrays her best friend and sweet, innocent Anne is driven to drug use.

Jennifer is seen taking the pills two times, twice as often as Anne is. The first time she takes them is when she learns about Tony’s illness. Again, they are used to numb emotional pain. The second time Jennifer is shown taking the pills is when she purposely overdoses on them to kill herself. This is the most extreme version of numbing difficult emotions a person can take, and the most obvious way that the movie could show that these drugs do not provide enjoyment but rather stop misery. What the “dolls” provide is nothingness, and Jennifer takes this nothingness to its maximum.

Neely is the character whose story is most entangled with drug use. She begins when her trainer gives her diet pills to slim her already thin figure. During this montage, the audience clearly sees Mel, the symbol of her pre-fame life, shake his head and tell her no, but she responds with a shrug, as if to say, “what’s the worst that could happen?” Shortly after, she tells Anne that she takes sleeping pills that are so strong, she has to take red pills to counteract them to wake up in the mornings, but then must take the sleeping pills again at night because the red ones have not yet worn off. Taking the pills is an endless cycle for Neely that will lead her to spiral to rock bottom.

In a following scene, Neely is seen being an absolute mess on the set of a movie, causing them to call for her husband to take her home because she cannot work under such strong influence of drugs and alcohol. When Anne and Lyon go to check on her, Anne lectures her about the danger of drinking while taking the pills, but Neely asserts that she must do so because it makes them work faster. This moment shows the desperation Neely has to stop feeling. Later on, after getting drunk in a dive-bar, having sex with some random nobody, and being robbed the morning after, Neely overdoses and nearly dies. Anne implies that this may have been intentional, despite Neely insisting otherwise. The audience is left to wonder.

During the third act of the movie, after Neely has gone to rehab and gotten clean, her older rival, Helen Lawson (Susan Hayward), brags about how she never needed pills like Neely did. Lawson claims her current sobriety is only temporary and Neely will eventually return to her old bad habits. The character summarizes Neely’s entire story with one line, “nothing can destroy her talent, but she’ll destroy herself.” Lawson’s words come true; Neely’s final scene sees her relapsing on opening night of the show she’s supposed to star in and being replaced by her younger understudy, the very thing she was afraid of. Her story closes on her drunk in an alley, screaming her own name.

To properly analyze this film, one must compare it to its source material, Jacqueline Susann’s novel by the same name. Though the movie stays true to the novel in most major plot points, there are distinct narrative changes and omissions that drastically alter the story. One of the most distinct examples of this is that Lyon refuses to marry Anne until the final scene of the film. In the novel, he marries her when they first reunite in Los Angeles. When he begins his affair with Neely, Anne is pregnant with their first child, which gives Anne a stronger motive to turn to the pills than she has in the movie. The book version of the two women are also much closer friends, which creates a more dramatic change in Neely’s character than in the film. Removing these two extremes makes Neely’s character arc less impactful.

Another aspect that was removed is Tony’s obsession with sex. An important part of Jennifer’s characterization is that she has always been made to feel that her body is her only source of value. This is added to, in the novel, by the fact that sex is the foundation for her relationship with her husband. This is only alluded to in the film with one line when they are walking in the park. In the novel, it is emphasized explicitly at multiple points. One of the reasons Jennifer chooses to kill herself rather than lose her breasts is because she believes she will lose even her husband’s love. The film likely made this change, as well as the marital change, to make the characters of Tony and Neely more sympathetic. While this goal is accomplished, it also softens the harsh realities that Susann was trying to expose in her novel.

One final difference between the film and novel is the ending. In the film, Lyon finally proposes to Anne and she rejects him, getting to move on with her life and live peacefully. She gets a happy ending. The novel ends with Anne and Lyon still married, her discovering that he is having yet another affair with a client, and her returning to the pills. This final note makes it clear that there are no happy endings for women in this city. The change is another example of Hollywood trying to show itself in a more flattering light than the one Susann placed on it.

Valley of the Dolls, the novel, was written by a female author as a way to condemn the mistreatment of women in the 1960s, specifically the mistreatment perpetuated by Hollywood on women in show business. The film adaptation tries to duplicate this commentary, but fails for multiple reasons. The first is that it chooses to save the “good girl” character. In the written work, all three stories ending in tragedy shows how no woman is safe from the effects of the patriarchy. Opting to protect the “pure” character alters the message completely so that it is no longer a criticism but a continuation of the idea that ambitious, promiscuous women deserve punishment and good, virginal women deserve happy endings. In addition, it omits important plot points that provide motivation for the characters self-destructive actions, such as Anne taking the pills for the first time and Jennifer committing suicide. By removing the catalysts, the characters are turned into cliché hysterical women. The film fails to adapt Susann’s novel correctly because it replicates the sensational bits while omitting the message. Unlike the book, the film serves only to entertain and not to critique.

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vampcubus · 5 years

Text

Quiet (Midoriya/Reader) [part 2]

| A/n: I have to admit, I re-wrote the ending several times and I’m still not satisfied with it but here we go anyways! |

| See part 1 ... here |

✦✿ Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. ✿✦

✦✿ Words: 5500+ ✿✦

are you guys ready to c r y??

. . .

You stare blankly at a red and purple sky, eyes lazily watching the clouds roll by and the half-visible sun dip down and slowly set. You leaned forward to capture that perfect in-between moment, smiling as the last sliver of the sun finally dipped behind the horizon, letting the sky gradually shift from warm pinks and oranges to dark blues, indigos, and purples. You sighed and sank into a more relaxed position as your eyes welcomed the appearance of the moon as it took to the sky, washing the park in its gentle white light.

You sat at the same rotting-wooden picnic table you sat at every night, a familiar book with kitty skeletons draped in red and black across the cover sat just beneath your hand. The lukewarm coffee you’d picked up hours earlier sat right next to the book, half-empty from your lack of interest despite it being your favorite kind.

You’d even considered dropping by your dorm to throw it in the freezer—to beat yourself with later if you kept thinking about a particularly annoying green-haired boy—before coming here, but you found that you just didn’t want to be on campus more than you had to.

Being out and about decreased your chances of running into him.

You let your eyes stray from the steadily appearing stars and to your right, where Midoriya had sat just a few nights ago.

You let out a frustrated sigh, turning your gaze back up to the sky and raising the cup of coffee to your lips. It didn’t taste amazing right now, but it served as a good enough distraction to stop thinking about him. You’d done the right thing, whether you cared about Midoriya or not, you wouldn’t let yourself be manipulated. You would not come running back into his arms only to be forgotten when other things in his life became more important than you again.

It was better this way.

You told yourself, trying to convince yourself that you would only distract Izuku from his dreams. You’d only get in the way and end up broken again when he realized that.

You flicked the book open and skimmed your eyes over the pages. The illustrations of grim-themed yet still cute cats above each new chapter momentarily consuming your attention. Your soft smile faltered when you stumbled upon a particularly strange looking cat with wild, curly fur and huge round eyes cowering underneath a couch. Your eyes lingered on the drawing, everything about it just screams Izuku.

You shake yourself out of it and flip to the front page, breath hitching when you noticed a sticky note attached to it. It was in the handwriting of the clerk you’d grown familiar with. She often scribbled funny quotes or little notes things into the books you purchased for you to laugh about when you stumbled into the shop again.

He was here today, wanted me to slide this to you once you came in today. Not quite sure if he knows that ‘secret admirers’ are supposed to be discreet?

-Kiko ッ

You almost smile at that, not doubting for a moment who she was referring to. But then you knit your brows together in confusion when you noticed an arrow at the bottom of the note. Curiously, you unstuck the unusually heavy sticky note and flipped it. Your heart stopped functioning entirely when you saw a familiar bracelet taped to the back of it.

You gasped tearing the bracelet from the note and inspecting it closely. No way… there’s no way he even remembered this existed.

It was a colorful and cute bracelet with mostly green beads and white lettered ones spelling out ‘All Might.’

The sight of the bracelet brings you way back, and suddenly you are no longer outside at the park.

Instead, you are laying on your stomach with an impressive fort of blankets hanging above your head. Your small hands fiddled with the beads, tiny fingers slipping on each random-shaped bead you could find in your craft box that was remotely green in color. Across from you lays a much smaller Izuku on his belly with his nose buried in a comic book, eyes sparkling and lips noisily slurping at the straw of a juice box.

“Y/N-chan look!” The curly-haired boy squeals, shoving the comic book over to you and pointing at a panel of a very stylized All Might with multiple civilians draped over his shoulders. It’s a familiar frame from the video you’ve watched with the boy about a million times already. You personally didn’t idolize the symbol of peace as passionately as your friend, but it always made him happy, so you always watched it with him. You squinted, scrunching up your nose at the picture.

“They drew his hair wrong!” You complained pointing at the clearly exaggerated shojo-looking hairstyle the number one hero had been illustrated with.

“No, that’s just the artists’ style.” Little Izuku exclaims, standing up in the fort, proudly posing in his All Might one-sie, holding the comic book up into the air like it was Simba.

“Ohh,” You remember humming thoughtfully before returning to tying an s-clip to the end of the bracelet, looking your newest creation over with pride. You sat up too, looking anxiously over to your best friend who had engrossed himself back into the comic. “Gimme your hand.”

You vividly remember the young boy’s freckled face lighting up and his hand being shoved in your direction. You slid the way-too-big bracelet over his tiny wrist and looped it around a second time so it wouldn’t fall off. “Here, so everybody knows you’re the next All Might!”

His big green eyes overflowed with tears, almost flooding your blanket sanctuary and drowning you both in his own tears when he tackled you to the ground, hugging you tight. You remember him showing the bracelet off to all of his friends and Kacchan the next day. He wore it even more religiously than his hero-onesie, his mother even mentioning that he only took it off to bathe.

You recall your shock when a week later he dropped a similar home-made bracelet with your favorite-colored beads and your idolized hero’s name on it. It had been the first time anyone had ever made something for you and you cherished it.

“We match now, so that means we gotta become big strong heroes together when we get big!” You remember his high-pitched voice declaring with his best All Might impression.

You felt your eyes burn with salt and the telltale weight of tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, your fingers shaking as they clutched the bracelet. Despite how old the plastic piece of jewelry was, it was in outstanding condition--save for a few scratches on the bigger beads here and there.

You’d thought that he’d lost it or thrown it away a long time ago. It’s been years. How on earth did he still have this?

Feeling your breath start to quicken you shot up from your seat, grabbing the book from the table and dashing off towards U.A. You turned each sharp corner, narrowly avoiding crashing into several other students—including Bakugou who hissed and swore at you as you retreated to your dorm You shoved the door open and slammed it shut. The next fifteen minutes were spent digging through your stuff, looking through untouched boxes of your things you’d brought from home but never needed until now.

And then, you finally found it tucked away in an old pencil pouch. You pulled out an all-too-familiar bracelet, holding it up to compare to the green one in your other hand. There was no doubt about it, it was real. Your fingertips traced the familiar beads of your own bracelet, eyes flickering between it and its counterpart.

Why…?

Why did he keep it so long?

You kicked the box back into the closet and toed the door shut, tossing both bracelets onto your nightstand and flopping face-down onto your bed.

It didn’t matter. It was just a bracelet, nothing more than a flimsy piece of plastic. Nothing compared to the friendship you had. So what if he held onto some dumb bracelet? That didn’t make up for months of distance, weeks of him slowly forgetting you existed while you stood idly by. Letting it happen because you cared too much.

So why did you feel so guilty?

You groaned exasperatedly into your pillow snuggling your face into it when it started to soothe your headache. Your eyes opened suddenly with a furious glower when your stupid brain immediately thought back to the times you and Izuku would nap together when you were kids, anywhere anytime. You often played so hard you knocked yourselves out so his mom would find you cuddled up against one another in your blanket forts, on the couch, on the slide at the park, under the sink once… anywhere you could fit into and doze off, you would.

In fact, you didn’t shake the habit of napping together until you were at least thirteen, which is usually around when parents start getting suspicious so you stopped doing it. You felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks, remembering those special times in middle school when you would sneak in and sleep together for a while if one of you had a nightmare. That was most likely the most rebellious thing you two innocent little suck-ups ever did.

You sigh, eyes drifting over to the bracelets strewn carelessly across your nightstand.

How can one bracelet bring back so much nostalgia?

. . .

Midoriya was slumped miserably against one of the couches in the dorm lounge, pen shakily scribbling away at an assignment. His handwriting has gotten a little better since last year, still wobbly and inconsistent in places but his teachers have voiced their appreciation of its improvement. He thinks back to earlier when he had dropped off that bracelet at the bookshop, afraid that if he approached you, you wouldn’t want to see him or he’d start crying again.

It really tore him apart inside to part with it, having kept it for so long. He’d found the bracelet while looking through some of his things one day. It fell out of a box with a bunch of his older more beat up action figures.

Seeing it after being put away for so long had brought the biggest smile to his face, remembering how much he’d loved it when he was younger. It was also what made him remember you… It was as if you suddenly popped back into existence. And in excitement to share the memory with you, perhaps catch up with you over coffee, he had disregarded the fact that it had been months since you’d last spoken.

He now realizes his mistake.

But after last night he knew he didn’t deserve to have such an important piece of you to himself. He absentmindedly wondered if you still had yours… probably not, huh? His wasn’t as pretty as the one you made him, and why would you keep it after he practically ignored you for a year?

Still, he had hope that just maybe there was a chance he could make it up to you, that he hadn’t messed up so bad that you never want to speak to him again. Midoriya closed his eyes, frowning down at his notebook in shame. Who was he kidding? It was just a piece of plastic and likely held no value to you after what he did.

He misses it. Already.

“Midoriya.” Iida’s voice piped up and the green-haired boy jumped.

“Oh hey, Iida. Did you need something?” He asked, trying not to sound as worked up as he really was, forcing a small smile.

“I came to ask if you’d heard from L/N at all today?” Midoriya’s heart dropped at the sound of your name.

“No… why?”

“Well, it’s just that several students claimed to have seen her running obnoxiously through the halls earlier this evening and I was curious if you’d happen to know anything about it?” Iida asks, straightening his glasses with a displeased expression, clearly not amused by your behavior.

“No, I haven’t. Sorry,” Midoriya admitted sullenly, eyes downcast to the floor.

Iida’s eyes softened and the bluenette sighed, taking a seat next to his friend. Ochako and he hadn’t managed to get much out of the sulking Midoriya since the other night, but they suspect that things didn’t necessarily go well between him and you. Not to mention he’s been a zombie all for days, barely getting any sleep at all these past few nights

“And, as your friend, I am concerned about your wellbeing,” Tenya confessed, pushing his glasses up closer against his face as Midoriya sighed.

“I’m fine, Iida.” Midoriya offered him a half-smile but otherwise made no attempt to spill anything. Tenya made eye-contact with Ochako across the common room, who had been the one to encourage him to approach Deku in the first place.

“Midoriya, what happened between you and L/N last evening?” The Iida son pressed, cautious not to pry too much in fear of upsetting him.

“I messed up,” Midoriya looked down at his lap, a drawing of your face in the corner of his math homework. He abruptly turned the page in hopes Iida hadn’t already seen it. “Really badly.”

. . .

The next morning, Izuku is as sluggish and mopey as ever, worrying his classmates with his lack of enthusiasm.

“You should talk to her.” Todoroki’s cool voice shakes Midoirya out of his daze after homeroom. He’s been staring absently at you as you ignored his existence, focusing on the lesson. It isn’t hard to guess who the half-and-half teen was talking about. And yet he still found himself surprised.

“I’ve tried, Todoroki. Talking won't help.” Midoriya sighs, eyes dropping to his mess of notes, including several crumpled up drawings of you.

“And sulking around doing nothing will?” Todoroki questions, not able to recognize the shell of the boy in front of him.

“I messed up, and she wants nothing to do with me now.” And he respects that.

“Something tells me that isn’t entirely the case.” Shouto replies and the green-haired boy sends him a puzzled look.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks, a brow raised at the possibility that Todoroki knows something he doesn’t.

“You forget that Y/N and I are close friends now, although you haven’t necessarily been around so you may not have known at all.” He states bluntly and it does nothing to comfort Midoriya at all. He hadn’t known you and Todoroki were friends! What else did he not know about you?

“What are you getting at, Todoroki?” Deku asks with a defeated tone, wishing the stoic prodigy would just be out with it.

“Y/N tells me everything, don’t think she hasn’t told me about what happened a few nights ago. But when she spoke about you it didn’t seem like she didn’t want anything to do with you.” Shouto explained, definitely catching the young Midoriya’s attention. “She’s upset, yes, and you aren’t wrong to assume that she is angry with you right now. But the longer you wait to talk to her about it—if you planned to at all that is—the longer it will take for her to forgive you.”

Forgive him? Was that even possible at this point? He didn’t know, but if what Todoroki said was true, and he actually had a chance, he couldn’t waste any more time ‘sulking around and doing nothing.’

“Are you sure that’s even possible, Todoroki?” Deku questioned, eyes adept as ever as he searched the bi-colored eyes of his rival and friend for answers he may not even have.

“I don’t know for sure, Midoriya. That is up to Y/N.” Todoroki admits, and Deku bites the inside of his cheek still torn over this. “But I don’t think she will forgive you if you don’t try.”

“Mm.” Deku nods, thanking the two-toned boy and packing up for his next class of the day.

. . .

Your ears perked up at the sound of someone knocking on your door later that night. You sighed into your pillow, not wanting to leave its soft embrace. You tried to ignore it at first, pretending to be asleep but he insistent knocking continued. Grumpily you pushed off of your comfy bed to sluggishly open the door, thinking it was most likely Mina and she’d just keep knocking until you opened up.

You were not expecting Midoriya to be standing there.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice holding no softness or enthusiasm ad your narrowed eyes stared coldly at your former best friend. He flinches at the icy tone of your voice.

“I-I um… can we… talk?” Izuku asks anxiously, wringing his hands together, elbows drawn in close to his stomach self-consciously. “Please?”

He meets your steeled gaze with his own apologetic one, green eyes pleading with yours. Izuku owned the most convincing pair of puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen, even when he wasn’t meaning to and even now you faltered.

“Why? Why should I let you in? Give me one good reason not to slam the door in your face and go back to bed?”

“B-because I w-won’t leave until I say what I need to say,” Midoriya stated as firmly as he could, a determined glimmer in his eyes as he did so. You don’t doubt that he might sit at your door all night if you refused him. “A-and I have a feeling you have some things to say too.”

He wants to resolve this.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You hissed stepping back into the threshold of your room starting to close the door but his hand smacks against the wooden surface, a desperate look in his eyes that only makes you push harder. “Move.”

“Please! Please just hear me out, Y/N, please just give me this! Let me try! You don’t need to forgive me. I just need you to listen!” Midoriya pleads, his glossy eyes already spilling hot tears down his freckled cheeks. He’s shaking. “Please…”

Midoriya stumbles forward when the door opens and he just barely catches himself, wide eyes darting up to yours as you take several steps away from the entrance. You cross your arms, you can’t believe you’re actually doing this.

“You have five minutes. Start talking.” You relent, sitting down on your bed.

Midoriya sighs in relief, closing the door behind him before clumsily scrambling over to you. You pat the spot next to you, avoiding any and all eye-contact. Izuku’s heart skips a beat when he spots his bracelet on your nightstand. So you did get it! His breath gets caught in his throat when he tries to speak at the same moment his eyes drift to your wrist, where a relic of your friendship dangles.

You kept it! He feels his eyes overflowing, the ugly fat tears streaking down the sides of his face as he stares dumbfounded at the familiar bracelet.

“You have four minutes.” You flatly remind him, and he jumps, trying to think of the words he’d practiced just a half-hour before he showed up at your dorm.

“AH—o-okay! um, I…” When he fails to speak even after a good minute passes, you sigh deeply. If he had nothing to say, why’d he even come? What happened to all that gusto about ‘saying what I need to say’?

“Why did you keep it?” You ask out of the blue after an uncomfortable silence and his head perks up, but he looks confused, eyes searching yours.

“Keep what—?” He starts, but you cut him off.

“The bracelet. Why did you keep it? It’s been years, I didn’t even think you still remembered that old piece of junk existed.” You blurt out, each word sounding distressed and just… confused. You wanted to understand.

He stares at you, mouth agape at a complete loss of what to say. His mouth suddenly feels dry and his tongue rubs anxiously against the roof of his mouth.

“Because… because it was important... to me.” Izuku breathes, the muscles and nerves in his hand twitching as it laid only inches away from yours. “I was s-so happy when you first gave it to me, my mom had to pry it off of me just to bathe me.” He chuckles, smiling at the memory.

“And I kept it because it reminded me of you, it felt like there was a part of you with me even when you couldn’t be there. It comforted me, knowing that you put s-so m-much thought into something j-just for me and I f-felt so special!” He breaks off when his hiccups start to get out of control. “A-and—”

He chokes and apologizes taking a moment to breathe again. You hadn’t realized how much one silly piece of jewelry had impacted him until now, so much so that he’s crying over it.

“And I made a promise, remember?” Izuku sniffs, wiping his eyes uselessly with his hand, only really smearing the wetness across his cheeks and wetting his hand with his own tears as they continued to spill down the freckled planes of his red cheeks.

You nod, but turn away when you feel your own emotions starting to spike up. You bit your lip, held your breath, clenched your teeth. Anything to keep the tears at bay as they threatened to fall.

“I-I said that when we—”

“We match now, so that means we gotta become big strong heroes together when we get big.” You butt in, sniffling and raising a hand to scrub at the tears streaming down your face and pooling at your chin. “That’s what you said.”

Deku stares at you, guffawed as you quoted his younger self. He hadn’t expected you to remember it so clearly, It makes him feel even worse. Knowing how much it must’ve hurt you when you grew apart. How hard it must’ve been on you to keep quiet about everything while he lived his best life, forgetting all about his dearest friend.

“Why’d you give it back?” You asked, voice trembling as you wiping your eyes with your arm. You glanced over at the green bracelet lying on your nightstand. “If it meant so much to you, why give it back?”

He closed his eyes. He listened to his heart as it slammed against his chest like a pinball machine, demanding him to say something.

“Because I forgot about the friendship it represented, and I shouldn’t have. I wish I wouldn’t have, but I did. I broke my own promise and e-even worse, I hurt you because I was just too caught up in my own problems—my own dreams—to remember that you’ve been a part of them since the beginning.” Izuku sobbed, there was no point in holding it all in now.

“I gave it back because I was so afraid I screwed up everything between us, and I don’t deserve it!”

I don’t deserve you. The phrase rang in his ears so loudly it was almost deafening, he wanted nothing more than to say it too. He couldn’t because he couldn’t catch a single damn breath to say it. But even as he feels he has gathered that breath it’s stolen away once more when he feels your hands on his face.

In a flurry of your own emotions and a nagging force of habit you had reached out and grasped his face, the soft pads of your thumbs wiping at his cheeks.

“Stop crying already, you had something you wanted to say right? Stop letting your emotions get in the way of that.”

The firmness in your tone as your stern eyes descended upon his own struck a chord in him. You’ve said something like that to him before. Years ago.

“Stop crying, Izuku! Stop letting your emotions keep you from standing up for yourself! Kacchan steps on you because he knows all you’ll do is cry!”

Multiple times.

“Would ya quit crying already? You’re tougher than that, Izu. Like All Might!”

Constantly.

“Stop crying because you don’t have a quirk! Become a hero without one!”

It had always been you. You there comforting him, encouraging him, telling him to quit crying and speak up for himself. To keep pushing on despite the fact that he just wasn’t as gifted as other children. How could he have forgotten one of the most important lessons you ever taught him? How could he have forgotten about you?

You tugged one of your bunched sleeves down with your teeth and dried up the downpour of tears from his cheeks with your hoodie sleeve. Careful not to rub the skin raw, you kept at it until he was simply too shocked to cry anymore. This is the first time you’ve done this in years, yet far from the first time you’ve had to do it at all. Even as children, you were using your fingers, your sleeves, the edge of your shirt to wipe his tears away.

“I—”

“Shush, I don’t want to hear it unless it’s what you came here to say.” You interrupt, and the look in his eyes changes from nervous to determined.

“I was going to say that I am s-sorry,” He stutters.

“What else?” You encouraged, watching as he slowly gained more confidence. “You said you weren’t going to leave until you say what you need to say, keep your promise.”

“I was going to say that I don’t deserve you!”

“And are you lying?” You ask.

“No!” Midoriya exclaims more confidently, more certain of himself than before.

“And is that all you wanted to say?” You asked again, smiling as the sobbing boy from before completely changed with your encouragement, egging him on.

“No…” Midoriya confesses, faltering slightly as his nervousness returns. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to say it yet. Would that even be acceptable right now? Even as strong as he feels right now he can’t help but hesitate, to blush, to avoid your gaze.

“Then say it.”

“I…” He trails off, suddenly terrified of the thought. He couldn’t! It would put everything on the line! “I-I…”

Your hand cups his cheek coaxing him to look back up at you.

“Stop hesitating, tell me what you want to say.”

He’s already put your friendship on the line, what difference would it make? You wanted the truth so you’d get it! He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes before opening them again, meeting your own straight on. There’s a spark in those green eyes that wasn’t there before he squinted them shut. It’s like an emerald fire was lit behind them.

“I love you!”

It’s quiet.

You stare at him, and he stares right back, his determined gaze never weakening as he maintained eye-contact.

“You what?”

“You heard me,” Midoriya replies.

This time it’s your turn to shy away. Your face darkens incredibly fast, heart racing against your chest as your eyes darted from side to side, deep in thought. Your mind threw numbers together into every equation it knew, each answer coming out the same. You had expected an “I want to be friends again!” or “I want a second chance!” or “I want to fix this!”

Never in a million years could you have predicted him to say that. Not to you. Your eyes drifted back up to his. He looks a little less confident now, almost worried as he awaits your response.

“Get out.” You breathe, eyes wide as you stare at him watching his determined face change to one of confusion.

You couldn’t believe it. After forgetting your existence for almost a year, after only remembering when he found the bracelet, after only wanting to talk to you because it was most convenient to him… and he has the goddamn nerve to say that he loved you.

“W-what?” Izuku gasped, not understanding what was going on. Suddenly you were pressing yourself against the wall farthest from him on your bed.

“G-get out!” You exclaim, the angry tears running down your face.

“Y/N, what are you s-saying?” His voice shook, the tears starting to fall from his eyes again, his nose beginning to run as well as his entire body shook. Why were you telling him to leave? Did he make the wrong call? Did you not feel the same?

“Why are you lying to me?” You asked, the question coming out like a whisper.

“I-I’m not lying to you, I love you!” Midoriya cried. “Please, you have to believe me, I wouldn’t lie to you! I’ve always liked you—since we were kids, Y/N! I can’t fake that! You know I can’t!”

You shake as his desperate green eyes plead with yours, a sincerity in those irises you grew up staring into, a sincerity that just can’t be faked. He actually… he actually loved you? But why? He ignored you for a year!

“And you can honestly tell me that in that year you forgot about me you loved me?!” You demanded, your tears making your vision blurry and unmanageable.

“I never stopped loving you, even if it was overshadowed by my dream to become a hero, even if I made mistakes not even I can fix, my heart always belonged to you.” Midoriya crawled over to kneel in front of you on your bed where you still had your back pressed to the wall and your knees pulled tightly to your chest. “I’m not perfect, Y/N. I made a mistake by not being there for you, and I will do anything it takes to fix it if I can.”

“And you won’t forget me again? You promise?” You ask shakily, feeling a little embarrassed by how small you felt, scrunched up in such a way and crying in front of someone other than your cat at home.

“Yes,” His immediate response confirms it, not an ounce of hesitation present in the way it rolls off his tongue. “I promise, I’ll never forget you. And I’ll never be the reason you cry again.”

“Can you believe me?” Izuku reached his hand out to you.

“I… I believe you.” You admit, a small smile gracing your lips as you take his hand. Izuku lets out a relieved sigh, his free hand trembling over his heart. You can tell how terrified he was. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you though, Izu.”

“I know, and I’m going to try my very best to make it up to you. I promise.” Izuku states. It doesn’t bother him that you didn’t say ‘I love you’ back, he wouldn’t have deserved it. He’s going to have to work for it, and that was fine with him.

“Do you…” You started, face flushing and eyes avoiding his as you removed your hands from his face. “Do you wanna hug it out?”

“Yes!” You yelp when he throws himself at you, tackling you to the bed with his arms around you. You squeeze your own arms around him, face burrowing into his shoulder as you squeezed the life out of one another.

“Sorry.” He mutters when he realizes he’s practically on top of you and most likely crushing you. He moves to roll off of you but your arms only tighten around him.

“No, please just… can we just stay like this for a while?” You asked, and Izuku felt his heart beating so fast he was convinced it eventually just commit seppuku if it pounded any harder. He nodded against your shoulder, cheeks burning a bright crimson as he relaxes.

“Also,” You spoke up and he hummed in response, he couldn’t be bothered to move. You reached over to your nightstand to snatch the green bracelet from it, the green-haired boy whining when he had to re-adjust after you started moving. “Gimme your hand.”

He pulled away, green pools swirling with confusion. He complies with your sudden request and gasps when you slide the bracelet back onto his wrist.

“This belongs to you.” You smiled and he mirrored it with one of his own, hand impulsively taking yours, fingers intertwining with your own. Your matching bracelets reflected the dim light of the room, casting a warm glow over your faces as you smiled at each other. No longer did you feel forgotten or used, instead you felt loved again. “Now get off me.”

Izuku laughs and slips off of you to lay at your side, his arms pulling you in close so he could cuddle you, just like you did when you were kids.

Izuku rested his forehead against yours, one hand reaching up to timidly brush against your reddened cheek, causing your eyes to flutter closed and a small sigh to escape your smiling lips. He missed seeing you smile. But there was still something else that he needed to take care of before you drifted off to sleep.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Yes?” You sighed sleepily,

“Don’t ever feel like you have to keep quiet anymore, alright? Please, always talk to me.”

You blinked, your mouth opening and closing several times.

“Okay.”

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undercoverwizardfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Fantasy ROTTMNT Fanfiction:Do Not Go Gentle:Prolouge

Summary: We were beaten by Draxum, the Unbreakable Baron. He took our Donnie from us. Now there’s nothing in the Hidden Kingdom that will stop us from getting him back. Sequel to the Broken Butterfly

Characters: Leo, Donnie, Raph, Mikey

Rating: Currently E

Overall: T (for later chapters] (note I’ll be sure to rate each chapter individually and give each one trigger warnings pertaining to that chapter for people who want to read the story but want to avoid the angst and violence coming up )

Pairings: Oh? You want to read the story and ship everything including the trees? Go right ahead you just have to get past my ““ship guard” *points to dragon lying in front of entrance to story wearing a bib that says ““shippers only diet”

Take a step back, before Draxum stole Donnie from his brothers, before their adventure began. Before their adventure, after all everything has a beginning

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Prince Leonardo Pumpington Cuddle Wuddle Baby the Twenty-Fifth awoke as he always does. With a minor headache and more tired than when he laid down twelve hours ago despite sleeping on a triple sized king bed under the fluffiest blankets made from only the finest endangered species. He pushes up his eye mask and waves off the Choir standing by his side that acted as his personal alarm before sinking once again into his soft warm bed. Staring at the ceiling and mural of himself winking. Leo made sure to wink back with finger guns, as was his usual morning ritual. He was content to lay in bed for the rest of the day (which wouldn’t be unusual) when the large ornate double doors swung open. A familiar octopus stepped in with a wide smile but eyes that were forever nervous ,”Go-good Morning my Prince! Are you ready to wake up? Where would you like your breakfast?”

The prince stretched his overly privileged arms. He could always have breakfast in bed again, that thought was always appealing, “I‘ll eat in Dining Hall Three today.” He claps his hands together loudly. Two of the more muscular choir members quickly moved lift him out of bed, holding him over their heads like a religious object and carry him out of the room. The hallways are covered in beautiful rare oil paintings, but none of them held his attention until they pass by a large mirror. “Holdup,” he says waving his hand, the two attendants back up to the mirror again. Leo made sure to give his reflected self the self-appointed wink before snapping his fingers at an attendant who had doted alongside, “You go get my make up team and my manicure team. I refuse to look anything less than spectacular.”

“Yes of course my prince.” She she curtseys before hurrying off. The attendants carrying him finally arrived in the large dining hall with a table longer than most roads. He was lowered onto a soft throne-like dining room chair before he clapped his hands together and another attendant, with a tray with an ornate tea pot came over with several ornate china teacups on the tray to see which one he’d want to go with his breakfast. He sipped one, “Too cold” he tosses the cup over his shoulder where it shatters on the ground. “Too hot” he tosses that one. “Too sour.” He tosses another, ”Too perfect...” he tosses again before letting out a large irritated sigh. “Go try again,” he snaps as that attendant runs off as well (trying their best not to step on broken pieces of fine china).

The prince leans back in his seat before a chef hustles out with a tray. “For you, your excellence!” he says lifting the lid off the tray and sets it in front of him, despite his already irritated attitude, he can’t help but smile at the delicious selection, the chef bows. ”Caviar Benedict, with a maple syrup glaze, a side of cinnamon churro asparagus and a glass of,” he sighs, “le Choccy Milk.”

“Aw perfect!” Leo waves off the tired chef. It’s not long after he’s finally given a good pot of tea and he’s leaning back in his seat. He has two attendants giving him a manicure, with a third applying his make-up and a fourth lifting his tea to his mouth while a fifth one is leaning precariously around everyone else to try cut his food for him. “Taki!” he snaps to the octopus servant, “I have a headache so clear my schedule.”

‘I-oh-uh.” Taki let out a tremble. “My Prince what about your Aetherwave show? You told your fans you would take a dive into a pool of diamonds today.”

Leo scoffed. “And I told you my diamonds are dirty, throw them out and buy me new ones,” he says, turning his head towards an attendant who snapped his fan open and began to fan him off, “Did you replace my ring yet?”

“You mean the one of a kind diamond sapphire ring made for you by the master craftsman Jair-Red? I-I was trying to tell you that he recently passed-“

The Prince snaps his head in Taki’s direction with such intensity the octopus squeaks out in fear “Then get the necromancer and tell her to make him make me a new one.” He thought for a moment to make sure he had said that right. “And make sure this one is clean. Unlike that last one,” he scoffs as he remembers how disgusted he was when he found that smudge on his seventy third favorite ring. So disgusted in fact he had wasted no time in yanking it off and throwing it out the nearest window.

“Um, yes my Prince, I’m sure NecroNancy won’t mind coming into work on her birthday.” Ending in a tone that implied NecroNancy would not only mind coming into work but would also be very cross about it.

Leo let out a loud scoff, his throat was actually starting to hurt from making that noise so much “That’s not my problem is it!?” he demands as though daring Taki to imply otherwise.

“Yes, right, sorry My Prince.” Taki moves down his list. “Um, that was all you really had. Other than your concert tonight-“

Leo levels the octopus with a angry look, waving off the attendant who had just finished his eyeliner. “ I just told you cancel everything.”

“No-now I would your majesty.” Taki avoids his burning yellow eyes by looking at his paper, “Your mother was the one who requested the concert. And-“ the octopus gulps,” I do not think you want to disappoint her, do you?”

Leo’s hand bumps lightly against his teacup. Though barely noticeable to anyone else, Leo was painfully aware of his mistake. He flexes his trembling hand before regaining his composure, “Well if Mummy wants it then who am I to say no. I don’t suppose she’ll be at this one either?” he asks.

“No, My Prince, I'm sorry.”

Leo hides his disappointment by inspecting his new manicure, looking for a flaw to point out. Unfortunately, they were done to perfection. With a surge of irritation, he claps his hands together. “Leave me be!” he commands, “Go get my preparations ready.”

The staff bowed as they left, bumping into each-other as they hurried away to do their assigned tasks. When they were gone from sight, Leo sighed and leaned back as much as he could in his high back seat with a cup of tea in his hand before drinking from it.

He had gone three years without seeing his mother

What was another three to her?

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Leo spent the rest of the day in preparation for his concert relaxing in a gold water bath which took all the tension out of his body. Investing all that money to invent gold water was the best small fortune he had ever spent, (even if it was highly toxic to drink). A day of pampering and relaxation nearly killed off his sour mood. But before he knew it, while being fed diamond-grade gold grapes, Taki was reminding him of his recital.

He knew his mother had probably already picked out a recital outfit for him, but until then at least he had a choice in what he would wear to the event. And for him it was his favorite aqua formal coat over a his white button up shirt and two toned pants with spats. He needed help from Jabot to put on his ruffle tie and pendant but other then that he was fine. The attendants loaded up any excess jewelry he would need between the recital and the parties afterwards.

Unfortunately, the platinum diamond carriage was being re-diamonded so he was stuck with the gold diamond studded carriage. He tapped his foot boredly before flipping out his mystic mirror, twist a flash, he knew it was connected to the Aetherwave, which was at its strongest at the castles. “Hello my fibbly fabulous subjects, it’s your beloved and beautiful Prince, Leonardo Snuggly Wuggly the Twenty-Fifth, here to tell you of an upcoming recital featuring,” Leo made sure to tilt his head to catch the mystic sun on his cheek, “Yours truly, I hope you can all make it, though I doubt it. I’ll be sure to pay someone to describe it in full detail when I return.” Leo blew a kiss at the mirror before hanging up.

“Um,” Taki tapped his tentacles together. “My prince, please we talked about you broadcasting just before you leave. It's very dangerous you don’t want your enemies –“

Leo squeezes his eyes shut snapping his fan shut with such intensity that it interrupts Taki with a small squeak as though he understood how close he was to getting on the Princes last nerve. Leo turns to Taki with a large smile. “Taki, Taki, it’s Taki right? I’ve known you foorrrr…” Leo trails off in a way that leads to Taki to add, “E-ever since Big Mama brought you home.” His nervous face half hidden behind his clipboard as though it could somehow protect him.

“Right, right. A while, and maybe in this time I may have made you feel.” Leo danced his fan as though trying to conjure the word he was thinking of, “Comfortable? So as a Pirnce, it's my job to remind you.” He taps his fan on Taki’s forehead, “What does it mean to be a prince?”

“It-it means you’re one of a kind.” Taki stutters, “a a gift.” Leo gestures for him to continue, “a superbly burbly light from the stars.”

“That’s RIGHT Taki, very good.” Leo clapped his hands like one would clap at a dog on its hind legs, “I’m a a gift, you’re lucky enough to be able to be graced in my presence every day. And you.” Again, Leo’s fan taps him between the eyes, this time with enough force to make Taki step back with a tremble, “Well, there are millions like you. So, while I'm irreplaceable, that means there are millions of yokai who could do your job in your sleep, so you are….” Leo again trails off, gesturing for him to continue. Taki’s eyes filled with a sadness that Leo barely notices, as the octopus lowered his tear-filled eyes, “replaceable.”

“Very good Taki! Such a smart man!” with a final tap of his fan on Taki’s head, Leo climbed up into the carriage, a guard pulled the door open for him. He gave finger guns to the guards who sat in the drivers spot and on the back. Leo was about to swing in when he saw a massive brown dog sitting across from his would be spot. Ugh,” he groaned, “Gus what are you doing?”

“Heya Prince!” Gus said happily, either oblivious to Leo’s disgust or just not caring. “Big Queen sent me here as extra muscle but you’re cool with that, right bro? Course you are!” The dog tore open a tin of bone shaped cookies he had brought along and began to tear into them without any dignity or manners. Leo scrunched up his beak before pulling himself in. Snapping open his fan to try and get the smell of “peasant” off him.

It wasn’t his fault they were all poor.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Thanks to the best magic available the inside of the carriage kept the interior at a perfect temperature, judging by the shivering peasants working out in the fields, but thankfully that’s what curtains were for. Leo spent most of the journey looking through the dance recital choreography his mother had picked out for him. Why she bothered to do that he didn’t know. Tapping his foot in rhythm and trying to visualize what illusion would go best with the moves. He’d have a little time to practice before the event but he often did his best work on the fly. So eventually he gave up. At that point there was a heavy shadow against the curtain telling him they were passing a forest now. Leo was half asleep when the smooth ride was interrupted by a jarring hit and they came to a stop. He grabs the door to keep from flying forward as his anger swells back. “What is the glimbering meaning of this?!” he demands scooting towards the window. ”I swear if you make me late I'm throwing you all into the Battle-“ he goes to throw the curtain open when suddenly something heavy slams against the door. Leo drew back in shock as the carriage rocks heavily. He grabs at the framework to keep from falling on the ground. Before he could say anything, Gus was scrambling for the door. ”Don’t worry, your highness! I’ll protect-“ But a moment later the door was thrown open and his bodyguard suddenly was yanked from view and thrown aside.

A cry of surprise escapes Leo, he scrambles for the door he was presses against and after a few frantic seconds manages to get the door open and fall out the other side just as he felt a hand grab at the back of his shirt. The prince rolls on the ground for a moment, surrounded by the sounds of combat and shouts. The neat clean purple guard of the Matriatch locked in a struggle against several larger dirty looking thugs that Leo could only assume were bandits when one of them turns and points at him, “There’s the Prince!”

No!

Kidnappers.

For a moment Leo hoped they were referring to another devilishly handsome prince when all eyes fell on him. Leo looks to his fallen guards in hopes that are just pretending to be horribly injured but judging by the pained groan of one of them lets out when one of the kidnappers steps over him he knows it’s a pipe dream. “Thanks for the Aetherwave video, kid,” one of the bandits with a crooked jaw says. “We had just about given up on getting you before you posted that. Now how about you be a good boy and don’t put up a fight.”

Leo would like to think he would have been brave if he had ever been in a life or death situation, but his trembling body betrays that dream as well. But if he knows how to do anything, its talk. He musters a chuckle that he hopes is more humor then fear. ”Really? You geniuses thought coming after me was a good idea?” He puts on a wide grin as easy as a mask, “I am Prince Leonardo Snuggly Wubbly Baby the Twenty-fifth and I –“

“Um.” One of the bands looks off to his friends in confusion. “Wait that’s your name? For real? That’s just tragic.”

Despite himself, when the bandits start off laughing (he’s even sure he can hear one of the guards chuckling weakly into the ground) he blushes angrily, “Excuse me, you are criminals! I don’t except any of you to crimdididly criminals to understand a name of high society. Or someone of my power.” He snaps his fan out hard which suddenly fills the air with bright sparks with such intensity one of the bandits stumbles back in shock. He couldn’t help but feel satisfied at their awe and fear. “I am a master Mystician. I have trained with warlocks and wizards whose very power could turn the world inside out. And you honestly think you have any chance of challenging me!?” He threw his free hand upward as a light explodes from his fingertips licking the air like a mighty firework that makes the bandits stumble back in shock in order not to be touched by the magic.

They are so enamored by the display, it takes them a moment to notice that Leo is, in fact, running away as fast as he can in a manner that not only raised the question if he had ever run a day in his life or even walked (like a deer that not only just realized they had legs but were on backwards).

Leo’s hands fumble for his panic broach at his throat while looking at the bandits who were just noticing his disappearance when his graceful toe caught on a large root and sent him hard onto the ground. The broach flying from his fingertips and sinking into a mud puddle. “Who put all this nature here?!” he shrieks in panic. He can already hear the bandits running after him, Leo hurries to his feet and turns towards where he had come from. Despite his panic he summons bright silver lights to his finger tips that he swipes through the air, creating a crystal web across the trees in the path. But not wanting to wait to see how long they would last Leo ran again, before he hears the crystal shatter behind him and sends. Before he can react a rock hits him hard in the shell, knocking him forward snd rolling across the hard ground, his only saving grace was the hard tree in front of him that stops him but sends pain shooting down his shoulder, causing him to cry out and hold the injured appendage. He turns to press his shell against the tree as the bandits are now far too close to his liking.

“You know what, your highness?” The square chinned bandit says. “That was a good try. Probably not the best escape attempt I’ve ever seen but definately the funniest.” The other bandits chuckle around him as he raises up the muddy remains of Leo’s Panic Pendant. “Maybe if you were actually as great as you think you are, then you might have stood a chance.” His rough hands crushes Leo’s only hope before dropping the pieces to the ground and stepping froward, reaching towards him with the same sinfully dirty hand.

Leo turns his head away, anything to spare him the sight of the hand coming closer to grabbing him-

Something whistles through the air followed by the sound of impact and something hitting the ground hard. Leo lowers his arm in time to see something jump over his head and land hard against the bandit in front of him with both feet, sending the Yokai flying. The interloper ducks underneath a bandit directly to his front that tries to punch him and plants his staff hard in the ground, vaulting over and sending a bandit flying back into a tree. The interloper swung his staff up into a defensive position. The impenetrable shadow of his raised dark plum hood stole his features from Leo sending a shiver down his shell , but he could assume that when he jabbed his staff at the bandits it was a warning to go on. One of the bandits go to grab the leader when the interloper aims his staff at the unconscious bandit leader. Before he uses his toe to kick his money pouch up into his hands, before nodding at him. The bandits grab their leader by the ankles and run off into the forest after his friends. After that, the interloper opened up the drawstring pouch and began to poke around inside.

It took Leo a moment to realize his life was no longer in danger, and that relief was swapped by a rage, “What took you so long?! I thought that Uncles Rangers were the best warriors in the kingdom,” he snaps. The interloper head tipped in his direction for a moment before going back to count the money in his bag. It takes Leo a moment to realize he’s being ignored and swells up his chest as he stomps in the interloper’s direction, “Don’t you ignore me! I thought I was dimbly done for!!! I am the Prince; my safety is your only priority.”

For the first time since he arrived, the interloper looked fully in his direction, his face cast in shadow by his hood as though finally acknowledging his presence. He almost seems frozen at the sight of him, a fact Leo took to mean he understood his failings. “Thats right, when we get back to the castle I'm going to make sure you are thrown in a dungeon-“ Leo didn’t have a chance to finish his threat before the hooked staff appeared again and caught him around the ankle.

The moment his head hit the ground his world went black.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

It feels like a life time before Leo opens his eyes again and when he does he’s welcomed by a splitting headache. He instinctually tries to rub his head only to find his arms have been bound with his wrists behind him. Not painfully but it is enough to make him glare at the figure sitting against a tree several feet in font of him. Now Leo can see this figure lacks the fine, if plain, tunic of a Ranger. He’s wearing poor peasant clothing that seems to hang off him, wrapped in a dark plum cloak, the only indication of his skin came from his bare two-toed green feet and fingerless gloves. He’s watching Leo from his spot with his arms over his chest. If Leo hadn’t known better, he would have thought that he had fallen asleep. Except, even though Leo can't see his face, he feel his eyes on him which only adds to his anger and irruption. He can’t actually tell how much time has passed only that they are not in the same clearing as they had been a moment ago but a more secluded spot, where the mushroom trees where much closer together. “Excuse me?!” he snaps. ”What is the meaning of this?!” he demands. “You're not a ranger, are you?! You’re just some- some, weirdo living in the woods huh?!? Huh!? Do you want a ransom too!!??” he demands. A part of him is almost desperate for a response at his point.

“I don’t like to waste my words.”

Leo blinks. He had thought the figure might have been close to his age, but to hear his actual voice still shocks him. The thief falls silent again, drinking from a tin cup that smells like cheap old coffee that Leo can smell from here. The thief stands up and-spins his staff around his hand again lazily. “The truth is, I haven’t decided what to do with you yet. Ransoming you out won't do me any good, I'd live the rest of my life with a target on my back. Which isn’t ideal. I could rob you I guess, but I'm not sure I want it brother myself with stuff that smells so flowery. But that’s if I wanted to be professional” The thief dumps his cup out by his side. “I could just take everything you have and dump you in the deepest darkest part to the woods.“

At first Leo wonders if it's possible to have a heart attack from fear alone. But at the moment his heart seems determined to try. Kidnappers were one thing; he had been warned about them his whole life. But this person didn’t sound like they were all too interested int that. This sounded more like—

Leo blinks, his eyes going to the hooked staff that hasn’t left the thief’s side. Though the twisting hooked wood is nothing special to him, other than a dark gray handle at the end that seemed to summon the weapon, he sees a dark crystal hovering inside the hooked circle at the tip. The purple with a hint of pink is achingly familiar and the moment he recognizes he had owned it he can't’ help but let out a full-on laugh. It brings him no small amount of satisfaction to see the Thief look in his direction again. “I get it, you’re one of the orphans Mummy threw out before me,” he sneers. “Awwww you poor thing. Jealous that Mummy saw you for the worthless unlovable, pieces of trash you are? Is that it, little boy-“

The figure is in front of him in half a blink, lifting him up by the front and slamming him hard into the tree behind with such speed that Leo cries out in panic as dark pink eyes burn into him with such intensity Leo could feel the red hot rage about to be unleashed on him, “You know, you’re right?” the Thief says in a way that almost makes Leo think he’s sneering, “Since i’m a no one.” He twists the shirt up tighter in his hands, “Then I got nothing to lose-“

Before Leo could see his life flash before his eyes, there's a flash of red energy and the Thief jumps away in in time to avoid a giant fist red of energy swiping at him. In the time it takes Leo to hit the ground, the Thief summersaults underneath another giant hand and snatches up his hooked staff and roll to his feet. A giant bulking figure jumps out from the tree line, sliding across the ground before coming to a stop.

“Comet Farts!” the Thief gasps.

Not that Leo could blame him, the figure now standing between him and the Thief was more muscular then any of his guards, a large snagle tooth hanging from he mouth and with a thick that would put a tree to shame, Leo had seen snapping turtles before but none that big. He was wrapped in a black cloak and grey traveling gear, his head is marked off by a red bandana that’s fixated on the Thief. “In the name of Captain Jupiter James Guild, you are under-arrest for kidnapping and grand larceny and-“ The giant snapping turtle looks to his hand, Leo could just see a list of crimes the bounty hunter hand written up his arm, “And-and just a lot of other things-“ but the bandit had already turned and fled into the forest, “HEY!” The turtle shouts, “No, you're under arrest! That means stop running!” the giant runs after him, before calling, ”Mikey make sure the Prince is ok.”

“Don’t just lea-“ There’s a rustling to Leo’s right that makes him shriek out in surprise before, what could only be described as, another turtle slightly younger than himself pokes his head out to the bushes, “Don’t worry your highness! I’m a fan! Me and Raph are here to rescue you!” before climbing out of the bushes, revealing his dirty mud-covered body and old patchwork orange clothes.

Leo shrieks again.

This time for different reasons.

“No don’t you dare touch me! You’re filthy and you smell like a bird-“ There's another crashing sound, the thief almost crashes into Leo (who gave out his, what felt like, hundredth shriek and leapt out of the way.) The Thief hits the mushroom tree before falling into a crouch position. When he drags his hand across his face, Leo could see blood stain his sleeve.

The one who had called himself Raph stepped out of the forest, cracking his neck from side to side. “I’m sorry I hit you. I don’t want to fight some kid,” he starts, “If you turn yourself in maybe they’ll go easy on you-“

The Thief visibly grips his staff tighter, he reaches into his pocket and tosses a small brown bundle in the air that he smacks with his staff in Raph’s face which explodes into red dust. The bounty hunter cries out as he stumbled back, scrubbing at his face with his forearm before the Thief was on him jumping up and planting his feet hard against him like he had before with the bandit. Raph, though blinded, twists away and brings his elbow up to knock the Thief hard in the head.

The impact makes the Thief hit the ground before Raph’s foot found its place on his arm that held the hooked staff. The Thief squirmed trying to free him arm, “I’m trying to help you here. I was trained by the greatest hero of the Hidden-“

The hooked staff in the Thief’s trapped hand suddenly flashes and shrinks into the handle, with a limited room the Thief manages to toss it his other hand where it reforms and he swings hard, knocking Raph in the face. The Thief rocks back to his feet. His closed stance shifting to a wide one as he swings his staff around, Raph’s arms came up and crossed over his face as red energy covers him again flaring under the hits as the Thief spins around and rains a few smacks on his sides before swinging his leg up with a side kick to the stomach. Blindly, Raph swings his arm around and knocks him hard in the head.

The Thief flew back hard against a mushroom tree, his hood fallen back to reveal a dark jade green complexion wrapped in a purple bandana, blood running from where his nose would be as he snarled angrily at the Bounty Hunter before jumping at him again.

The turtle that had been called Mikey let out a small whine, “Raph, the Prince won't let me untie him because he thinks I smell.”

Raph had somehow pinned the Thief around his chest, but judging by the strained look on his face he wasn’t going to keep it for long as the two struggle around. ”Don’t distract me, I'm working,” before pausing “And when was the last time you had a bath that wasn’t just you standing in the rain?”

Mikey opened his mouth to respond before lifting his arm and smelling his armpit, judging by the grimace on his face he had just answered his own question. Leo squirmed away from the filthy turtle, in fact he was so determined to get away from the filthy turtle that he didn’t see the Thief slam his head back against Raph’s face, forcing the bounty hunter to drop him and the two opposite turtles collapsing against the other.

Then.

A breath.

The one known as Raph ran forward with his hand held out probably to pull the Thief off him, but as he took a step closer a small wave pulsed from him. Like a gust of wind, ceasing the chaos and shouting and bringing silence. An invisible force catches him by the front of the chest and pulls him upward into the air, causing him to cry out in panic. He looks around and sees the same thing happening to those around them. Even the scattered leaves and stones are caught in the air as though reality in that moment had taken a break. Each of them caught in some sort of invisible suspension. A heat started at the back of Leo’s eyes and burned forward like an inferno. He squeezes his eyes shut in order to try and stop it but his eyelids are forced open, revealing golden eyes with white flecks radiating from his eyes as the world suddenly turned white. He lashes his arms and legs out around him stupidly to try and grab something when he notices a person standing in front of him, outlined in a green flame with yellow eyes staring right at him, though there aren’t any real characteristics, Leo can tell it’s a human of sorts with a large pompadour. It reaches up to touch him but he can't’ help but flinch away, whether out of fear the fire would burn him or the stranger itself he doesn’t know. But then the figure tilts his head to the side as though saying ‘I understand’.

Before Leo could say anything, he’s not even sure he could in this state, the figure suddenly twists into itself and takes the shape of a five-petal lotus flower before burning away. Then he hears a man's voice behind him, as though something is whispering to him

“Come find me.”

As quick as it all starts, it ends. Leo hits the ground hard and gasps loudly, rubbing at his tear-filled eyes as he looks around him. Too shocked to yell, but he can tell he’s not the only one confused. Raph had already pulled himself up next to Mikey to check on him, who’s now rubbing ineffectively at eyes streaming with tears. The Thief is several steps away, as though eh had thrown himself as far them as possible, and is checking his trembling hands as though making sure they weren’t about to explode on him. But after a few glances at each other, as though reassuring themselves they had all experienced the same thing. They had one question for each other:

“Who are you?”

Part 2=>>

#rottmnt #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #fantasy au #donnie #leo #raph #mikey #angst #hurt/comfort #do not go gentle #rottmnt fantasy au

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 12)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Hi, so...either in this chapter I completely dissapoint you or I pleasantly surprise you, I’m very much hoping for the latter lol. I would love to hear your thoughts on this, cause I’m an insecure little fuck and I’m very afraid you’ll all hate this chapter and where the story goes from now on lol

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me

Decided to post this a day earlier cause ffs, between the fucking election and minks with covid and destiel and putin, the world doesn’t make sense anymore. So fuck it, have some Ivar :)

“Word has it that the King has made you a free woman.” The girl whispers, handing you a piece of bread and sitting beside you, looking out at the stars.

“Mhm.”

“We’ve known you were more than a prisoner since the moment you arrived, though.” She quips quietly.

“Oh.” You can only mutter, but the surprise is written in your face.

Freydis smiles, warm and a little cold at the same time, “It is written in the way you walk, witch. You were never a slave, were you?”

“If you are asking if the Saxons kept me a prisoner, the answer is no. That privilege seems to be reserved for your King.” If your last words drip with venom and anger, she does not mention it. You dare think she understands.

“I was. But now, like you, I am free,” Freydis sentences, and this does bring your attention back to her eyes. Depthless blue eyes, perverse and innocent, relentless and broken. When the girl leans closer, you don’t move. Her words are barely a whisper, but carry the strength of the vow you hissed at Stithulf, “Neither you or me will die slaves to men.”

“To whom, then?”

“The Gods. Yours or mine, I do not know,” She answers simply, fierce when she hisses the words at you, “But we mustn’t settle with mortal men. What we have suffered, it has to…mean something. It has to mean we are destined for more, that we are more.”

“Sometimes pain is just pain, Freydis.” You offer quietly, but her mind is set. You wonder for a moment if these thoughts were what made her spirit survive her time as a slave.

“No,” She shakes her head, stubborn, “We are broken because our fate is to be strong, we are…we are defiled because we are to rise above it.”

You roll your eyes, and even if the conversation remains quiet in the dead of night your voice is strong when you argue, “Did Freyja release you from your binds? Will Despoina release me from mine?” The pain lacers at your heart, but you insist, “No. I shall not be thankful for an unending fight to survive.”

“Yet you survive.”

She is not talking about surviving the Byzantine warriors’ almost successful attempt to silence you like they did your mother. She is not talking about surviving the pain of years, centuries, that marks your soul, a pain that Freydis may not know about but understands regardless.

No. She’s talking of the ‘freedom’ you have garnered here in her homeland, of what it means to be a free woman in a world that steps over the ones that cannot fight like men. She is talking of surviving Ivar the Boneless.

As your eyes meet, different stories, different agonies, and different destinies meet as well; but you feel she understands, better than almost anyone, what guided your words, your steps, your promises, that made an army be laid at your feet, to make a mad King set you free.

“King Ivar was the one to free you.” You say quietly, leaning away from the girl. It is not even a question, is a realization. All her words, all her advice…she spoke from experience, more specific experience than you thought.

“He wasn’t a king then.”

A hopeless laugh leaves your lips, “What men like Ivar the Boneless need you to be, you become.” You repeat her words from a few weeks ago, a new meaning to them altogether.

The girl laughs as well, the sound dainty and musical even if it carries iron beneath, “Although now I realize you may have been too arrogant to lie.”

All you can offer her is a shrug and a sigh as you say, “I die on my own terms, with my own face, Freydis.”

“But you didn’t. Die, that is,” She insists, smile on her pale face that you find yourself starting to return in kind. Her hand settles on your knee and she squeezes and you wonder if it is in comfort or something else. “Whatever you are, he wants to keep for himself.”

You say nothing else, turning your gaze back into the sky outside, suddenly reminded of the circumstances that brought you here, of the invisible chains that still remain on you, of how you have failed to become what you ought to.

If we must, we will die. Resisting, like your mother and I taught you.

And yet you cower and accept scraps of freedom at the first chance you have. Shame and resentment fill your heart, and your mother’s favorite piece of jewelry hanging from your neck feels like a noose when your fingers toy with the old metal.

“Did you seduce him?” Freydis starts suddenly, dragging you away from your thoughts so quickly you find yourself disoriented.

You blink a couple of times before you can answer with anything other than a wordless sound to her question.

“What?”

She shrugs with one of her shoulders, drinking from her own cup of warm milk before explaining, “You earned your freedom, or whatever measure of it that you don’t seem to be happy with. Did you bed him for it?”

It should be insulting, but her clear eyes tell you she does not shame you for it. She seems almost…impressed. It still makes something churn at your insides, and you find yourself hating the world that bound her and made her a slave a little bit more.

“No,” You say, slowly, “Was I expected to?”

Did you? Is what your words whisper but you don’t dare voice, although you have an inkling that she hears it regardless. Her eyes remain on you for a few moments too long, and the start of a knowing smile curves at her lips.

The girl still shakes her head in response, “I was curious.”

“Why?” If you sound harsh, if what Sieghild calls your ‘Athenian nobility’ is heard in your tone, Freydis does not mention it.

“He wants you, you know that. Half of Kattegat wants you.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

She shrugs, “Word runs that he has never taken a woman to his bed. Earls have even gifted him noble women and slaves, but he never accepts them.

A part of you wants to ask why she is aware of all this. You remain silent however, looking back out at the stars and wondering why does she believe the King’s cock and its use or lack thereof is something you are interested in discussing.

“It’s not about beauty, the women brought in were the most beautiful I have seen,” She continues on, talking to herself as she recalls, “It’s also not about…power. Most I have seen wouldn’t be sharp-witted enough to try to get something out of him either.”

She seems to be willing to babble on, but a sharp voice interrupts you, no matter how quiet it is.

“Girl,” One of the older women chastises, gaze set on Freydis. “Eyes and ears follow the witch. Be careful.”

You are stunned into silence, as is the girl next to you, and when the quiet of night settles upon you, you can hear the rustling of leather and the deep breaths of soldiers set outside your door.

His guest. You guess to them being a guest just means a looser set of chains, or invisible shackles.

True fear settles in the girl’s pale eyes, and you reach to place a hand in her knee, placating her. The older woman, you do not know her name, motions so that you both move closer to the crackling fire and away from the windows.

“It will do you no good to gossip like this about any son of Ragnar, especially Ivar,” She advices, but a glint in her eye tells you of times in her youth spent just like this. She leans closer, and whispers, “And also, despite the rumors, you must remember he is a hot-blooded young man commanding an army, you oaf.”

“Maybe it’s about control,” The blonde ponders, side-glance directed at you. After a breath, she shrugs, “Maybe you were brought all the way here just to be fucked, witch.”

Freydis ends her sentence in a giggle, her voice quiet and eyes shining. The young girl behind the past suffering and fear.

The old woman smiles, and points towards you with her head, “She speaks like one of our own, she better fuck like one too.”

Her jest is well-meaning even if insulting, and used already to Sieghild’s equally brash humor, you only roll your eyes with a laugh.

The three of you continue exchanging secrets of this land and its people till the moon is high up the sky. It helps with the feeling of shame, the feeling of having betrayed your purpose; it helps, but it doesn’t quieten the voices that demand to know why you get the right to spend the night next to a warm fire laughing and exchanging stories while your people’s corpses are still fresh, while the survivors await the embrace of the incoming winter to let go of their strength.

When the whispers quieten, when the city sleeps, when you are left alone with your thoughts; you realize what a mistake you have made.

You were taught to fight, you were taught to resist. The Gods made you smart and ambitious, and it was for a reason. It may be Fate you are to cross paths with the Varangian, but it is not written that you are to be bound to him, you refuse to believe so.

You have fought with claws and teeth before, you have lied and kissed and promised to avoid bindings. There is no reason why you shouldn’t now, no reason why foolish thoughts and feelings should stop you from doing what you have before.

Fight. To return to your people. To remain free. To overcome.

And so, letting go of the guilt of not trying enough but with a new sort of guilt and shame settling upon you, you depart the apothecary towards the main hall in the dead of night.

You are not stupid, you know the Viking wants you, at least slightly, at least begrudgingly. And he knows he cannot get any political advantage from making you his wife, he may even lose power by making you queen. There aren’t many things he can force out of you, so that leaves your body.

So, if it is your body he wants, you will let him have it, in whatever way he sees fit.

When it is done, when the foreignness is no longer mysterious, when you make the allure of whatever it is dissipate; then it will be easier to make him see that this was not ordained by the Gods, not his and definitely not yours.

You thank the warrior that leads you to the quarters with a nod and a silent smile, wondering in the back of your mind when or how these men got directions that you are to be allowed in the King’s chambers when he hasn’t called for you.

It surprises you that he hasn’t yet gone to sleep, makes you wonder what he has entertained himself with. A foolish thought of it being a someone that entertains the King at night makes you clench your jaw.

Still, you stand in wait, letting curious eyes wander over the spacious room. When the uneven steps reach your ears, followed by the fainter footsteps of two slaves, you straighten your back and face the doorway.

King Ivar’s eyes widen when he finds you in the room, quickly moving over your form in the red dress before he dismisses the slaves with a gesture of his hand.

You keep your eyes on his, but there has never been a time you have shown less in your gaze. He sits down, discarding the crutch at his side, and you walk closer even though your legs shake and your hands tremble.

Playing games kept you from your freedom, but…playing games may keep you from chains this time.

You’d prefer iron shackles on your wrists and ankles for a thousand years if it meant not having to be an unwilling wife before Gods that, although you don’t worship, you respect and believe in.

Your steps falter, and your heart remembers the consequences of the last time you lied in exchange for freedom. The words in your head are promises that this is no different from Narses, even if Narses was kind, and sane, and you cared for him.

What men like Ivar the Boneless need you to be, you become.

You reach up, keeping your eyes on his, and let the dress drop down to the floor, leaving you bare to hungry blue eyes that immediately trace over your body.

His lips part before he speaks, and he seems to stammer for a moment before he asks, “W-What are you…?”

“I know you want me,” You offer, a little entranced by the desire, the fear, the struggle for control that you see written all over his face; taking a small step forward before you realize it. You shake yourself off your stupor, standing straighter. With what feels like your last breath before a defeated descent to Hades, you whisper, “You don’t have to make me your wife, whatever you want you can get without marrying me.”

Any wonder, any trace of desire and boyish vulnerability you could see written all over his face, shining in his hungry eyes; it all disappears with your words.

His expression hardens and his nose furrows on a snarl, his voice gravelly and almost disgusted as he motions dismissively towards you.

“Get dressed.”

You startle, and resist the urge to cover yourself with your hands.

“W-What?”

“I said get dressed. I do not want your pity.”

Your brow furrows along with your nose, and although with trembling hands you grab onto the linen and cover yourself, you still grit out,

“It’s not pity. It’s…desperation.”

“Desperation?”

“I cannot be bound to you, I cannot be made into your wife.” You try, and the pleading tone of your voice makes disgust at yourself churn at your insides.

“Are you ashamed you will have to be the wife to a cripple, hm? Disgusted?” He taunts, the flip of a coin and back into the cruel rage you have faced before, although with a different, more raw edge to it as he presses, “Is that it?”

And as before, the glimpse of something real, the victory of drawing something human out of the monster that bears the crown makes your own back straighten, your own voice turn into steel.

“That you think your legs are the reason I would have for not wanting to be your wife, King Ivar, tells me all I need to know about you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He spits out, and even as his raised voice puts you on edge, you still run your hands through your hair as you start placing, “Do not walk away from me!”

You turn back to him with wide eyes and quickened breath. But it is not fear, it’s rage. For a moment when your eyes meet you want to dare him to make you fear him, but the arrogance beats the desire to prove your foolish heart wrong, and you spit out,

“You have had me chained and humiliated; you have forced me to become something I do not want to!” Your nose furrows and your eyebrows crease, but your voice lowers and you settle the fury in your voice as you answer his question, “And you thinking me being against all this charade has anything to do with your legs makes me realize in your mind all of this,” You gesture around you, “is somehow alright.”

His nose furrows, his lip curls in a snarl before he argues, “It is Fate!”

“Why!? Because you say so!?” You shake your head, “Impressive a man as you may be, you are not yet a Manteion.”

“A what!?”

Of course he doesn’t know, how could he, how could anyone in this cold and foreign place know at all what you mean when you speak in your tongue, to your Gods, about your world.

Letting all the breath leave your lungs, you let yourself fall to the ground, hiding your face in your hands.

“Our worlds are so different, Ivar, how can you think that-…” You sigh, “I do not belong here, I do not belong here with you.”

“Well, you are here.”

You are here with me.

And his arrogance as he says it, his pride, his power, you have known those for a long time, you have seen them in familiar faces and strangers. You have been forced to accept them, accept their rule over you simply because of the way the world is, for too long now.

Your calves grow warmer before the fire, but even if you put your legs above the burning wood it wouldn’t feel as stinging and as burning as the red mark now on your cheek.

The reminder, the thought of it alone, makes your weak hands tremble and your eyes fill with useless tears.

“Tis your pride hurting more than your face, little one.” Sieghild starts, but even if there is the start of a jest in her words, there’s gravity in her voice.

“He had no right to-…”

“He did,” She interrupts. And it is the truth, and it makes you clench your jaw and look away from her green eyes. “You wounded his pride, most men don’t take kindly to that offense.”

You stay silent, because you know. And you know you spoke out of place, you know you acted like a child, wanting things out of your reach. You know you should have lowered your eyes, shut your mouth.

Still…

“Is what he said true?” You ask meekly, feeling the burn of shame at the base of your throat. “That they can…take me?”

“As a prisoner?” The Viking leans back on her bed, a crooked smile on her inked face, “They can try.”

“As a concubine.”

Your mother focuses on you, “You are my daughter, little one. They can force no binds on you.”

“What do you mean?”

Sieghild smiles, with that same smile that speaks of a world of liberties women where you come from could never even fathom.

“You need me to say yes!” You yell before you can stop the words from leaving your lips, and you can only watch with widened eyes and a hand over your treacherous mouth as Ivar the Boneless turns to look at you again, the arrogant ire shining in his clear eyes. You scramble to stand, your eyes wide and hand still somewhat covering your mouth.

“What?”

He heard you. This would be your opportunity to take back your words, to take back your resistance, to accept surrender. You waged war against the very Empire the last time you were asked to surrender, though.

“You need my consent for us to be married, Varangian,” You state instead, the words fast and your breath also. You stand up, hands tightened to fists. A flinch of anger passes over the King’s expression as he presses his lips together, irritated that you are apparently so bent on being free. Yes, truly scandalous of you. You swallow your own irritation down and insist, “I am a free woman, you can’t force me.

He considers you quietly for a moment, and before he has a chance to argue, you remind him,

“You won’t break a promise, so you won’t make me a slave,” Even if your voice shakes, you continue, “I-I know of your ways, of…of your Gods. This wasn’t arranged, and since I’m free you need me to say yes.”

He hears the words you don’t say: And I will say no.

After a moment of stubbornly considering you, the King merely shakes his head.

“You have already been given to me.”

“That Christian has no claims to me, and you know this.” You tell him, speak ing of Stithulf and his useless chains.

“I’m not talking about him,” Ivar says, cold smile on his face as he leans on his crutch and serves a goblet of mead. He lifts the cup to you in offering, but you remain in your spot. With a sigh of both disappointment and irritation, the King gulps down the drink and clarifies, “I’m talking about your mother.”

“My mother is dead.” You say without hesitation, although a pit of fear starts opening at your stomach.

But he shakes his head, lifting a finger from his hold on the cup and pointing to you as he corrects, “I don’t mean the Greek one.”

“You are lying,” Is all you say as you look into Ivar’s eyes, your voice trembling as much as the rest of your body. Your nails dig into your palms but you cannot help it, you cannot tell your body to uncoil, not until you hear the truth. “You are lying to play with my head.”

“How would I know Sieghild Vorsdottir, King Rorik’s wife, famed shieldmaiden from the Danes, is the woman that raised you?” He offers, and with each word the ground under your feet dissolves more and more, “She came to me, told me she gave me your hand. I have witnesses.”

No, no, she would never. All those years, telling you to stand tall, teaching you not to bite your tongue, it cannot all have been for her to ditch you and sell you off to the first king you encounter.

You want to think this rationally, you want to remain calm and look for the truth but…

A part of you that will always be her child, that will always love her like the mother you lost too soon; that part of you leaves you with your hands shaking and your throat clogged with only one word.

Móðir…

“She would never do that, she…” You close your eyes with a deep breath, “If she did such a thing, she told you why.”

“She said she had to, that it was fate.”

“You are lying.” The words are choked, the last grasp of a dying hope.

“Would you stop with that? I am not lying.”

Sieghild’s sad and loving eyes on you, her hand holding your face, “I have asked Freya for help ever since we arrived in Scandinavia. She has answered.”

Frantic questions leave your lips, but in her smile there’s the same resignation you saw when she said goodbye as you readied to face the Byzantines for what was supposed to be your death, “The Seer’s words-…it does not matter anymore.”

“She said-…she knew all this time,” You choke out, wide eyes searching the nothing before you for answers, “Her visions, the Seer’s words, she…she knew.”

There’s a strange moment of hesitation, a breath of uncertainty where you think the Viking is trying to find a way to comfort you.

“Prophecies, visions…it is usually too late to change the result when we realize what the Seer’s words mean.” Is what he finally settles on saying.

Foolish, stubborn tears sting at your eyes, and it is with a shaky hand you reach to hold on tight to your mother’s necklace, despair cursing through your veins.

The Völva offers you a small smile, equally mocking and apologetic, “Run if you want to, fight, kick, scream. Fate will drag you home by the wrists, child. You know how this tale goes. The chariot’s pace will tear the world asunder as darkness goes looking for you.”

Your eyes trace over the skyline, almost frantically searching for an answer you know you will not find there.

“This…this place,” You look over the sea, feeling your chest tighten. “This was Ragnar’s pride. Sieghild’s tales…this is Queen Aslaug’s home. The empty throne.”

“You are not making any sense.”

“I was supposed to come here, before I even returned to Greece. I was-…Sieghild, she knew we were to return to her homeland, to that place ruled by a witch from the Danes.

You turn to him with wide eyes, a manic laugh bubbling up in your chest at the realization. For once, the King stays silent, watching you raptly.

“She knew it was fate. We ran from it, I ran from it.

It is with wide eyes and parted lips you look at the man before you, now in a new light, now with a new weight over your shoulders and heart.

“I have no choice,” The revelation is stealing the air from your lips, but with cracked tones you whisper, “I am…I am to be here. It is fate I become your wife.”

Fate. You never thought a word that once brought you so much comfort would make you feel so devastated.

“I will not be a bad husband for you,” He promises after a moment of silence, voice as uncertain as his eyes searching yours, “You will want for nothing, you will be respected by our people, I...I will take care of you.

You nod, but stay silent as the weight of it all settles upon you. You don’t know what is expected out of you now, what fight can you conjure up, what you can try -and see fail, again- to try and escape these…these invisible shackles.

There’s a moment of quiet, and the man moves in his seat, settling back in place with a posture that in anything other than a monster would make you think he’s sheepish, awkward.

His voice is low, almost hesitant as he offers, “You can ask for anything you want.”

You look at him out of the corner of your eye, “I do not ask for things I do not deserve, my King.”

Maybe it is time you stop asking for freedom.

____

Kay so Ivar’s words at the end are inspired on Hades’ speech to Persephone in the Homeric Hymns: “(…) feel kindly in your heart towards me: be not so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods, that am own brother to father Zeus. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore."

Anyhow, I would love to hear what you think of this chapter and of where the story has led. I hope I haven’t dissapointed you, honestly.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you next Tuesday!! Love you all :)

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

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helaintoloki · 4 years

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hiii so i saw your holiday prompt list and i loved how wholesome it is?? how is that legal. but anyway, i was wondering if you could perhaps do n. 12 with peter parker 🥺👉👈 hope you’re doing well & staying safe!

a/n: ngl I got really excited when I saw this request in my inbox bc it’s been so long since I’ve last written for Peter! anyway I hope you enjoy lovely ♡

warnings: some awkwardness, fluff

* #12: wrapping gifts together // taken from this prompt list

Endless yards of wrapping paper and colorful bows litter the floor in a manner that makes Peter feel as if he has to walk through some maze-like obstacle course just to reach the plate of gingerbread cookies on the coffee table. In the center of all the holiday clutter and chaos you sit, diligently removing the price tags and labels from your gifts before setting them aside to be packaged and wrapped when you’re ready. Your brows are creased with concentration, and if not for the fact that Peter had nearly ate it when his foot got caught in the wrapping you never would have detected his presence.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You exclaim, your attention now focused on Peter who grips a little too tightly onto the arm of the couch for support. An embarrassed laugh leaves his lips as he steadies himself before carefully walking the rest of the way to sit down beside you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Good reflexes, you know?” He says with a small shrug, hoping you don’t notice the intense indents he’s made in the fabric of the couch. Luckily, you don’t, and you even let out a small laugh at his antics before returning your attention to your previous task.

“Thanks again for letting me wrap gifts here. It’s just been so crazy back at home and I wouldn’t have been able to get anything done,” you ramble with a flustered smile, one that Peter is quick to return.

“Yeah, no, it’s no problem. No problem at all,” he says nonchalantly, though the rapid beating of his heart says otherwise. “Happy to help.”

“And you’re sure May doesn’t mind?”

“Are you kidding? You know May loves you.” And also won’t stop bugging me about mustering up the courage to finally ask you out, so here we are. “You’re always welcome over.”

“I appreciate that,” you murmur quietly, a soft glimmer in your eyes that Peter can’t quite decipher no matter how many times he tries. Your ability to be so vulnerable and open while simultaneously keeping your cards close to your chest mystified him to no end, and the fact that he could never quite read you properly always left him feeling anxious and unsure of himself. He liked you, really liked you, but he had no idea of knowing whether or not you felt the same.

You’d been friends with Peter since eighth grade; as the new girl at school with no one to sit with at lunch, you’d chosen to befriend the boy with the Star Wars lunch box and Iron Man pencil case. He was quiet but friendly enough, and in no time at all you became two peas in a pod. You did everything together, told each other everything— well, almost everything— and helped each other through various heartaches and heartbreaks. Peter was your best friend, and you were his (you were tied with Ned in first place, but that’s not the point) which is why his newfound feelings for you freaked him out so much. There was a lot at stake when it came to his predicament; he didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship, but he also couldn’t afford the distraction. After the events of the blip Peter found that he had to work harder than ever now when it came to his superhero duties, and he didn’t want to make you feel neglected or unimportant. He also didn’t want to put you in danger, something that was bound to happen if you two began a relationship.

Ned had argued that at this point you were already in danger anyway; your best friend was Spider-Man and you didn’t even know it, so being the girlfriend of Peter Parker wouldn’t make things any different. Admittedly, this revelation did not make Peter feel any better, but he knew his friend had a point. The only problem now was figuring out how to tell you, and then how to pick up the pieces of his broken heart if you were to turn him down. Peter was definitely no Casanova, but he figured taking baby steps would help him get there, and so here you are sitting on his living room floor wrapping presents together and munching on May’s specialty gingerbread cookies.

“I can’t wait to see the look on Betty’s face when she opens her gift,” you say with a giddy smile as you begin to wrap her present. Peter watches carefully as your skillful fingers fold and tape the corners of the wrapping paper together before neatly placing a bow on top. There’s something about the way your eyes seem to sparkle with glee as you write Betty’s name on the gift tag before carefully setting it aside for later. If he could do so without looking like a total creep, Peter would stare at you for hours. He could get lost in your eyes, feel his heart swoon whenever you smiled, and enjoy the tiny boost to his ego you gave him when wearing the Spider-Man themed Christmas sweater your mom had gifted you a while back.

“Is there any chance I’ll get to see my present today?” Peter asks innocently, laughing at the suspicious glare you shoot his way.

“Fat chance, Parker. I was smart enough to wrap yours at home before I came here,” you jest with a teasing smile.

“Come on, not even a little hint?” He begs, making sure to put on his best pout.

“Hey mister, maybe that look works on May but it does not work on me,” you chide only to burst into a fit of giggles. Peter lets out a dramatic sigh, a dejected smile forming across his lips.

“It was worth a try.”

“Don’t worry, I promise you’ll love your gift,” you reassure him. “And if you don’t, well, just pretend to like it to spare my feelings.”

“No, I’m sure I’ll like it,” he chuckles, handing you the scissors at your signaling and watching you get to work on the next gift. He can’t help but shift his gaze towards his own messily wrapped presents sitting underneath the tree; he didn’t have as many friends as you did, so he could spare to ditch his usually frugal spending habits and buy nicer gifts for the ones he loved. A bottle of that high-end perfume May always gushed about yet never bought for herself, a nice hat for Ned to make up for the time at Liz’s party, and finally the most expensive gift of all, a Tiffany and Co. bracelet that he’d be spending the next few months paying off with what little money he could scrounge up.

Odd jobs, extra chore money, and painful goodbyes resulting from the sales of some of his favorite collectibles allowed for the purchase of the jewelry. Time and time again you’d told Peter not to worry about birthday presents or holiday gifts; a simple card or something homemade was good enough for you, but this year Peter knew he had to go big if he was to finally seal the deal. You weren’t just any other girl, you were his best friend and he fell in love with you, so when he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out on Christmas Eve just like he’d been planning to all month he knew had to make sure it was special.

“Peter,” you call out gently, redirecting his attention away from the presents and towards your puzzled features, “you alright there, buddy? You spaced out on me again.”

“Oh, y-yeah, sorry,” he apologizes quickly, shaking away his previous thoughts and doing his best to remain calm and collected despite how fast his heart is racing at the possibility of finally being able to call himself your boyfriend by Christmas time. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying I finished wrapping.”

“Whoa, wait, that fast?” He exclaims astonished.

“That fast,” you confirm with a nod, grabbing a stray bow from the coffee table as you rise from the floor and stretch out your stiff limbs. An amused chuckle falls past Peter’s lips as you attach the bow to the top of his head before extending your hand towards him. “I’m hungry, let’s go get food.”

“So demanding,” he teases, taking your hand and hoisting himself up off the ground.

“Oh, I’m sorry. May we please obtain sustenance, my dear friend?” You retort sarcastically only for Peter to roll his eyes and playfully nudge your side in response.

“Very funny,” he laughs dryly, though the corners of his eyes crinkle with delight at your teasing manner. He sighs, “alright, let’s go get you something to eat.”

“You see, this is why we’re best friends.”

“Yeah,” Peter utters with a quiet smile, his gaze once again settling on the poorly wrapped little box underneath the Christmas tree, “best friends...”

Christmas Eve can’t come soon enough.

#mel’s holiday prompt list #ngl i missed writing for my baby boy :’)#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter #peter x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #marvel #mcu #request

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chronicbatfictioner · 4 years

Text

"Overall, it wasn't so bad..." Tim commented.

"Except for the fact that Bane roared like a constipated bear and literally lunged at Damian and Jason threw him out the window..." Barbara quipped, her face serious but her lips were still twitching. "I... am highly amused. Twice."

"You were laughing until you bent over double that if you weren't in a wheelchair, you've probably knelt on the floor laughing." Dinah deadpanned. "It was hilarious."

"Yes, it was. The fact that Jason could actually lift Bane and throw him out... Did you guys see Bruce's face, though! Oh my god! He... he looked at Jason as if he'd seen the lord savior Jésus Todd or something!" Tim crowed. "Like, the dude Bane got thrown out a bay window twice. I get the awe, I was a little star-struck myself. But I can't believe dude actually wanted to try the third time until Alfred pointed a damn shotgun to his forehead! I can't even!"

"This thus solidifies my thoughts that the Waynes may be trying to figure out a way to get rid of this... brute without... I dunno..." Barbara pondered.

"Gotten themselves broken in half?" Tim suggested. "He sure insinuated that he would do such a thing to Damian."

"Oh, gee, Tim. Which part of his speech insinuated that? 'You lying bastard!', or 'I'll break you in halves!'?"

"I'm partial to the 'bastard' remark, really. I mean, pot, kettle?" Tim replied, giggling.

"Technically," Helena Bertinelli - The Huntress - sighed as she chimed in; "and ironically, at that; the 'bastard' would be Bane since he claimed to be Thomas Wayne's son and is younger than Bruce. Which means he was 'conceived' while Dr Thomas was already married to Mrs Wayne..."

"Right? Bruce and Talia were two consenting adults, albeit under 20 years old; and were wed in a local ritual witnessed by locals, according to Jason. You should see Bane's face when Jason presented copies of the marriage's registry." Tim continued.

"Oh, we saw, all right. Harper's drones worked quite well." Dinah replied, snickering, referring to Harper Row, one of their tech 'consultants'. "Even at that height, it still delivered crystal clear pictures. I vote we use them again."

"No vote needed, the drones are on stand-by at the Wayne Manor permanently at this point. I'm more interested in his reaction when Damian offered them a DNA test." Barbara told her.

"I'm more interested in Bruce Wayne's reaction, really. He didn't seem too surprised, as if he was expecting this to happen or something." Helena pointed out.

"Maybe he did," Barbara replied absently. "Dude has been swingin' more than the roarin' 50s, there has got to be some juniors out there that even he didn't know of."

"Ugh, while I'm not a fan of Bruce Wayne's womanizing ways, I personally don't think he's that reckless. He's not a drinker or a junkie, as far as I know. He has virtually no vice other than extreme sports." Helena argued.

"I agree," Selina, who has been quietly watching from the corner, chimed in. "This is a guy who got visibly antsy when some sexy girls in bikinis come up to him - I thought he was gay. But if he'd been... wedded to Talia Al Ghul all these times, that would make sense. He knew exactly where he stood, and what would come up if he screwed it up."

"Has Jason or Dick said anything of the Doc and Mama Wayne's reaction?" Helena asked.

"They seemed truly confused, a little apprehensive, but didn't seem to be opposed to the idea that Damian is Bruce's child. Dr Wayne said that a DNA test wouldn't be necessary, but Jason insisted it." Tim replied, and added a little absently a few heartbeats later. "But why would he, a physician with more specialties than a truck stop, would not question the biology of anyone claiming to be his biological descendant?"

Barbara glared at Tim, "excellent question, Tim. If my dad has someone coming out of the boonies saying he's related to me, the first thing dad would do is draw blood."

"They... don't care?" Dinah suggested. "Maybe the Wayne men were less... chaste than they appear?"

Barbara glared at her this time. "Of all the women Bruce Wayne has dated, I've only recorded a handful who would end up in a second date. Less than a handful who were actually mentioned beyond social media photos; and you know how I feel with social media photos: generic, unverifiable, and showoff-only. Dates with Bruce Wayne generally would start with the pick-up, dinner, and then some form of jewelry. I..." she looked at Selina and Helena, "you've both dated him at one point or the other."

Selina shrugged, "I went for a gala dinner, and was honestly there to scope the homeowner's safe, really. I wasn't interested in a follow-up date." she replied. "Helena?"

"Social arrangement. My people called his people and boom, we were on a red carpet." she elaborated. Helena was a part of a mafia family, until she decided that the mafia way would not be the best way to make Gotham a happy place for all, and donned the costume of the Huntress to hunt down wrongdoers. Barbara had decided to let her join to prevent her from going over the line and murder anyone out of overzealous-ness; but also in order to get a line-in into the mafia families.

"No second dates, either, huh?"

"No, I'll have to check, though. I think his people called me again, but I wasn't interested in a vapid playboy, even if he has more money than Jesus."

"Vicky Vale," Selina reminded. "She has had a... somewhat lengthy relationship with Bruce some years ago."

"Sooo... the next answer in our mystery could probably be answered by interviewing an investigative journalist." Tim commented.

"Oh, no..." Barbara grinned mischievously. "Not this investigative journalist. I know just the journalist to talk to when it comes to gossip among themselves."

Dinah snorted a laugh. "I thought you didn't like her."

"I liked Vale less," Barbara griped. "Plus, Vale is already getting news on Bruce's probable child; why shouldn't I send Lois Lane the allegations of the Bane Conspiracy?"

"Conspiracy with who?" Dinah asked curiously.

"Oh, the Waynes, of course, to get rid of the Court of Owls," Barbara smirked. "Why should we be the only ones racking our respective and collective brains when we can have someone else on the ground doing the grunt work?"

"Babs, you can be... pretty evil sometimes," Selina remarked. "I know there's got to be a reason why I like you."

"I'm also awesome with technology and can launder your ill-gotten money and make it legal and undetected." Barbara pointed out.

"Oh no, that's why I liked you." Helena quipped smirking. "Seriously, how many mob family can say their ill-gotten money is accountable by law?"

"As long as it is within the facets of the law, and so on and so forth... Anyway! Tim, you're quiet for more than two seconds. I'm always nervous when you're quiet."

"Just thinking..." Tim said, looking a little lost in his own brain. He often does that when he has at least a dozen scenarios running through his mind. Through the time of Barbara knowing him, Tim would probably be the only person whose claims of 'just thinking' wouldn't immediately be picked on by anybody.

"Care to share with the class, kitten?" Selina prompted.

"It's not fully mapped yet... but I was thinking. What if the Waynes aren't... didn't cooperate with Bane in order to destroy the Court of Owls, and they're literally being hostages in their own home? What if Bruce Wayne has predicted something like this could happen, and has gotten himself all prepared all the way to ten years ago when he wedded Talia Al Ghul? I mean, who would have had enough firepower to defeat Bane other than the Al Ghuls? Look at Jason," Tim pointed out. "He threw Bane out the window as if he was a fly. While Jason is as solid as a rock but isn't a metahuman - Bane is. He was assigned by Talia herself - out of Gotham - to protect and guide Damian-- why? What's so special about Jason Todd? Why did Talia choose him? Why didn't Bruce Wayne - at least - act shocked when Damian said he was his son? Surprised, sure. But not shocked or in denial.

"Who's gonna win if Bane turned out to be Dr Wayne's son? Who's gonna lose? What will they lose? Who is Bane accountable to? If none, who planted the idea of him being Dr Wayne's son? Because from what I've read about him, he was born and raised in a prison with his mother - no mention of a father. His mother was an insurgent of Hasaragua, fighting against US-condoned democracy. And while there was a record of Dr Wayne being there, there was no exact date and length of stay, because he was there privately and not as a part of Médecin sans Frontieres or something like that.

"What about Mrs Wayne? She wasn't a poor or uneducated woman, since she was a Kane. Society-wise, do you think she would have tolerated her husband's indiscretion, both then and now? Yet she kept quiet for nearly two months. She has a Ph.D. in psychiatry, and would she be the ones to keep quiet about DNA testing and all that? Personally, I don't think so. If my mother - a little 'lesser' society lady compared to Martha Kane-Wayne - ever got a word of a child that 'probably' got fathered by my dad, she would have demanded a divorce right away without bothering with a paternity test, sure. But my dad, who was also a society man, would have at least attempted to convince her that it was a mistake and/or it was a lie. What best method to decide a child's paternity than DNA test?

"The criminal front in general - especially the costumed criminals - has been pretty quiet since Bane eliminated the Court of Owls. Why? That's rather stupid since we know that the Court's Talons were the ones who made moves to 'discourage' the costumed freaks. Annnd... that's where I couldn't map out things further." Tim rambled.

"Keep talking, even half sentences are better than none, Timmy." Barbara prompted. Tim might have had a brain that worked a mile a minute, but he was still very young and would often get flustered with himself. Barbara, on the other hand, has an eidetic memory, and things Tim said tend to stick to her brain and would fill the gaps in any puzzles she might be thinking about. Even half sentences.

"Right, I do the fact spreads, you do the jigsaw-puzzling." Tim nodded. "The murders of Talia and Ra's Al Ghul. Jason said they were deliberately murdered in a way that they would never be able to be resurrected through the Lazarus Pit. The perpetrators would be the League of Shadows, a rogue splinter of the League of Assassins. Lead by Lady Shiva. Why? Why were they murdered? Why now and not - say - next year or last year? Who benefited by their death? Aaand... I'm done, for now, I think..."

"I... can feel a headache brewing," Dinah admitted. "You and your conspiracy theories." she rubbed Tim's head fondly. Tim gave her a half-smile, still trying to articulate the thoughts in his head.

"That's why we need him, he takes the most random input and makes a theory out of it, and some of them would actually make sense. I'll start a search string based on some of your questions. If you have more, don't hesitate to tell me, Tim." Barbara realized belatedly that her tone sounded dismissive, and turned to Tim. "Want me to call up for Chinese and powwow a little more?" she added.

Tim shook his head, still glaring blankly. "Thanks, I gotta go... I've some... things to look into. Thanks, Babs," he replied, ending it with a genuine smile as he got up.

"Want to come home with me, Kitten?" Selina asked, worry for Tim apparent on her normally-blank face.

"No, thanks, Ma. I gotta go back to the mansion, just in case, right?" Tim pointed out.

"Then Dinah should go with you," Selina decided.

"She's coming there later, right, aunt Dinah?" Tim asked. Dinah nodded.

"I'll get home with food, so don't worry about that, kiddo." she said. Tim waved them all and then walked out.

Once he was out of the door, Selina sighed. "Ah, young love..."

"Right? Remind me to check in on him before going to the House. I don't want to walk in on something and have him traumatized." Dinah agreed.

Barbara glared at them quizzically, and then at Helena, who shrugged. "Grayson said it first, I think. Our kitten is growing up. I just hope that Jason guy is worth his firsts..."

The memory of Tim gawking at Jason when he thought Barbara wasn't watching flashed in her mind.

Oh.

And then of Jason blatantly checking Tim out just before Oracle made her appearance, and at times when her Oracle projection was turned off.

"Oh boy," she sighed.

"That's about it in a nutshell. Good thing I've told him of the birds and the birds..." Selina grinned slyly.

"Millennial parenting at best, Ms Selina Kyle." Dinah grinned. "Come on, let's go patrol and induce the fear of goddesses to Gotham's low-lives before inducing maternal fear to our little kitten."

"...or to the big tabby. We'll see," Selina added, waving as she and Dinah walked out of the room.

Suddenly Barbara felt a little sorry for Jason. Just a tiny, teensy, weensy bit of sorry.

#Batless!AU #jaytim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Barbara Gordon #Selina Kyle #Helena Bertinelli #Dinah Drake #Oracle

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years

Text

All the Love {Thranduil x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @queenofmankind Wordcount: 3296 Summary:You show up uninvited to a grand affair, hosted by King Thranduil. There’s been some things left unspoken.

No matter how ornate your gown, or how beautifully braided your hair was, attention always went to the necklace that rested between your breasts. Silver, twisted into branches to make a teardrop like shape, framed the four pointed star within. It hung off of a delicate looking chain, but it was one which was extremely hard to break. Throughout your long life, it had never broken once, not even when you were a child and not as careful as perhaps you should have been. It was not only a beautiful piece of jewelry, but it was a sign of your life force. It was realized that if you were ever seen without it, it meant that you had fallen in love. Many elves had tried to have the privilege by courting you, but you remained stubborn and so the necklace had stayed. There was no one you had yet met who you would give your heart, your life to. The keyword in this being yet.

The rain was falling when you reached Mirkwood. You never minded the rain, but nonetheless, it was a relief when you were under the thick canopy of trees rather than out in the open. It was only when you saw the lights floating among the trees that you even realized you had reached your destination. A blonde haired elf approached, his hair as straight as the tree trunks around you. “Welcome, Lady y/n,” He said with a bow of his head. You chuckled, your fingers playing at your bottom lip.

“After all of the playing that we had done while you were a child?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “You should know better than to call me a Lady. We both know I’ve never acted like one.”

“Calling you a mudcrab wouldn’t have been as nice a greeting,” Legolas said with a smile, welcoming you into his arms. He still smelled of the deep forests, you noticed. Your oldest friend had not changed much over the years, though perhaps he had gotten a little more serious. It seems like it had just been yesterday when you had been one of his carers, and walked him through these very woods to help him appreciate nature. It was something that he was born with, but you had helped him to look beyond the trees. To respect the soil as well as the roots, and the birds as well as the leaves.

“Might have gotten a few looks for that, you’re right,” You smiled. You weren’t opposed to getting dirty when you went on your little adventures. It was why he called you mud crab - because you would wander into the lakes and come back looking like some sort of creature. He let go of you, and you let go of him, once the timing was on the verge of being inappropriate. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“He’d want you to be here,” Legolas said, taking you from your guards to lead you to where you would be staying.

“He still has no idea, does he?”

“He might. One of his spies might have already told him that you’re here.” Legolas was, of course, talking about his father. Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. The most noble and regal elf that you had known, except for perhaps Elrond. “He claims to know everything that goes on in here, but we still have some secrets.”

“That’s good. I would hate for him to know what we used to call him,” You whispered the last bit in case there were, indeed, spies about. Legolas smiled, and stopped in front of a archway.

“This will be your room,” He told you, bowing his head as you walked inside. It was a bit dark, but airy. Little fireflies were buzzing their way around, landing on the wooden headboard. Not much had changed in the millenia that you had been away. You could well recognize that it was the same room you used to use.

“Of course,” You said, your guard coming behind you, bearing your things. He started to unpack on your behalf. Gowns came out of your bags and were hung from a thin but strong branch, coming in from the outside. An owl flew in and perched on it, keeping its wide eyes on what was happening. “Where is your father now?”

“There’s a concert in the main hall. The first of many, I expect. I remember the celebrations for his 6000th birthday, and there was a lot to sit through. This year is meant to be more spectacular.”

“Well, it’s not everyday that a King makes it to seven thousand years old, now is it?” You said with a faint smile. You had come for the last large birthday, and the one before that. Back in the days when there was a Queen, Legolas’s mother, before she had passed. You had been a friend of hers from childhood. That was why you were selected to be one of her son’s caregivers after she was gone. You could tell him stories that Thranduil could not, and help him to forge a relationship with his dead mother. “I’ll freshen up and then I’ll go down. See if I can give him a little surprise.”

“I’ll be watching for you,” Legolas said with a grin. He left you and your guards to prepare for the night ahead. The first thing that you did was change out of your traveling attire into a more respectable gown. You chose something in a muted gold, floor length, with a slit in the front to make walking easier. It was a bit low on the chest to show off your necklace, but had long sleeves so it was still modest. With your hair tumbling down, you thought it was most appropriate for the beginning of a long birthday festival. Your guards gazed as you finished getting ready, bringing on a sort of confidence in you. You weren’t one one of the royals, but rather the daughter of a noble and thus you didn’t get much attention. You were only invited to this because of Legolas but - perhaps, you might look like you belong.

“You look beautiful, y/n,” Your closest friend and bodyguard told you, taking a seat on the floor. There would be more than enough protection in the concert hall. He and the few others would stay in your room until you returned, then find lodgings as close as they could be.

“Thank you,” You said with a curtsy. You wished them all a good night, then followed the few stragglers left to the grand hall. It was the sound of the music that guided you more than the elves. It was far from happy, but rather, a tragic sort of song, a longing sound coming from violins. Leave it to Thranduil to be dramatic.

You spotted the King as soon as you walked inside. He was sitting on his throne, hair draped over his shoulders, attention on the band in front of him. Standing to his right was Legolas, with his hands clasped in front of him, playing the part of the Prince. He caught your eye and let go of the facade for a second, sending you a smirk which you returned before standing on the sidelines to watch the band. You nudged yourself in beside Haldir, who smiled at you, and indicated that he was pleased to see you without verbalizing in it. It would be a very bad idea to interrupt the music.

The song came to an end, then something more upbeat started. “Would you like to dance?” Haldir asked, holding out his hand to you.

“I would be delighted,” You said, taking a hold of it. It was not a slow dance, but it was not as if elves were known for jigging the way that other races did. But you gave it a little of your energy, eyes sparkling bright as you did a spin. He was a beloved friend from years ago, but it had been centuries since you had seen him last. It was wonderful to be in his presence once more.

“First, you show up uninvited,” A voice drawled, bringing your attention to a figure standing beside you. You stopped mid-spin, frozen in spot at the stares this brought. “And then you don’t even come and say hello when you do get here. I must say, you are one of the rudest houseguests that I have had in quite some time. And to my birthday, of all occasions.”

“Now now, Thranduil,” You said, letting go of Haldir’s hand so you could give a proper curtsy to the King. You noticed his eyes trail to your cleavage, but stopped at the necklace. It made you feel a little warm. “I wasn’t going to interrupt the experience of such a lovely band. I plan to stay for as long as you will have me, and would have come to you at an appropriate time. And as for being uninvited, I think you should ask your son about that.”

“I think I will,” Thranduil’s eyes flickered to his son who was still standing by the throne. I noticed him look uncomfortable at the glance, and walk to find someone to dance with. Some things never change. “You look well.”

“I am well, thank you,” You said with a smile. Haldir excused himself from his position beside you and went through the throngs of people who were still dancing. Even with the music still playing, some of the elves looked a little antsy for the King’s attention. It was a special celebration in his honor after all. “And you - you haven’t changed at all.”

“Older and wiser, though perhaps those are things that you cannot see,” Thranduil snapped his fingers and the band began playing another tune. One that you recognized as his favorite. You had heard it many times while you worked under him. “Would you care to dance?”

“It would be an honor,” You accepted his hand and fell into a perfect harmony with the King. And an honor it was - he could dance with anybody here. No one would dare to reject him, even if they had wanted to. They were all here for him, and here he was, picking you. The uninvited former nanny. A singer came onto the scene and gave a powerful performance of some passages, which you noticed Thranduil singing to as well under his breath. Where his hand and yours were clasped, you began to feel warm. And where the necklace sat upon your breast, that too was beginning to feel warmer. When the song came to a close, he bowed his head to you, and you curtseyed back to him.

“I’ll be just a few moments,” He said, barely moving his lips as he told this to you. No doubt you were the only one who could hear it, even with the enhanced ears of the others in the room. “I expect you to wait here for me.”

“Years, if I have to,” You risked saying, the tips of your ears growing red. A smug smirk went across Thranduil’s features, and you had just enough time to catch a glimpse of it before he headed back towards his throne to make a speech. He thanked everyone for coming out, he was honored to have them in his home, enjoy yourselves but follow the rules - the same speech he had given last year, you recalled. An elf came to you with a glass of sparkling water, which you accepted and sipped at while watching the display. Thranduil really was a good speaker, keeping eye contact with the adoring crowd throughout. He spoke about how everyone here was vital to his success as a ruler, and you thought - perhaps it was an illusion - that he looked at you as he said those words.

After the speech, the music picked back up, and finger foods started to arrive from the kitchens. You looked at the snacks with a sparkle in your eye but did not venture forth to take anything. You had been told to wait here and thus you would. You were as obedient as a perfect child, you thought, and your heart beat inside of your chest as you thought of what he might want from you. Elves were known for being aloof, nonchalant, emotionless. Some certainly were, including the King that you were waiting for, while others had more man-like emotions. Like Legolas, who was still discovering his own. You were in the latter sort. You felt, and you felt things strongly, and you weren’t ashamed of that. Standing here, feeling like your heart was going to beat out of your chest - you never felt more alive.

You remained silent as you waited, though a few had asked you to dance. You only shook your head politely and sipped at your water, smiling softly at anyone who tried to get your eye. Thranduil had disappeared briefly, as had his son, but when they reappeared, it was not to the throne but it was to beside you.

“Why don’t you find someone to dance with, Legolas? I do recall that I had Lady y/n here give you lessons as a boy.”

“Yes, I hope you’ve kept up with those lessons,” You said with a mischievous look. Legolas looked a slight bit uncomfortable but he did give you a smile and a nod.

“I am a prince, of course I remember how to dance,” He protested, before going through the crowds to find someone to partner up with. Thranduil lightly touched your arm, the bell sleeves of his cloak almost enveloping it from sight.

“I wish to speak with you alone,” He commanded rather than asked. He turned on his heel and walked out of the grand hall, leaving all of the food and friends alone. You looked over your shoulder to see if anyone was paying attention to you now, but everyone was so excited over the delicacies, you didn’t even get a second glance. So you left as swiftly as the King did - for you knew that it was far easier to do as he said than deal with his temper tantrums. There was a reason that you and Legolas had called him King PrissyPants.

You saw the tail end of his cloak spin around a corner, and so you followed it cautiously until you found yourself by the dungeons. “Are you really this upset that I came uninvited?” You asked, feeling nervous.

He finally turned to look at you, with eyebrows furrowed. Why, it even brought a wrinkle to his otherwise ageless appearance. “Yes,” He started. “Tell me - do you know why I didn’t invite you?”

“I didn’t really think about it much,” You admitted. “I didn’t take it personally, is what I mean. Perhaps because I’m just a former nanny?” You weren’t regretting coming at all - seeing Thranduil and Legolas was worth this grief, but you were starting to think it might not have been the best decision you’ve ever made.

Thranduil took a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. It was really weird seeing him out of sorts like this. “No - that is not why,” He stared at you, hard. You could physically feel it. “It is because I do not plan on getting married ever again because of how heart breaking it was to lose...” He couldn’t even say her name, and you could not blame him. You felt sorrow for him, until you remember how this conversation had come about.

“What has that to do with my being here, Thranduil?” You addressed him by his name, rather than just his title. It felt more personal. This whole conversation felt more personal.

“When I watched you raise my son, it brought something out of my heart that I was never ready to admit to. Even now, I do not wish to say anything out loud. To me, the years since I’ve seen you last were long, but I was ready to move on, to attend to my duties as King. To focus all of my energies on Mirkwood. But then you came along once more, ready to ruin all of that.”

Damn your human-like emotions! You were close to a faint with all of the words that he spoke. Never had anyone come across as so romantic while so angry before. And angry he was - you could see that he blamed you rather than his own heart for these feelings. “I know you have cared for others in your long life, so you are more than capable. But has it really become so foreign to you that it infuriates you? Have you forgotten that love can be such a beautiful thing?”

“I have not forgotten, but neither have I forgotten the feeling of losing it.” Thranduil’s thumb grazed against his lower lip. It took restraint not to kiss him there and then. You weren’t just here for a good party, you were here to see him, and what he was saying - why, they were things you felt when you lived under his canopy centuries ago.

“As a King, I understand that you sometimes must dwell on the shadows for it helps you to find the light once more,” You said, your own hands going to the back of your neck, fiddling with the chain. “The sun always rises again, you know this as well as anyone. So I am going to give you a little something which I hope brings the dawn.”

The necklace fell loose against your chest. You kept hold of the chain, and held it out to Thranduil to take. He did not do so, but regardless, it wrapped it around his wrist with the pendant resting on top. “I’m not sorry that I came back for the celebration. I’m not going to apologize for coming back to you. I think that she would have wanted me to take care of you, as well as Legolas. So take this, and know what it means.”

You patted his hand, leaving the necklace with him, then turned and quickly went back to the party. You couldn’t make eye contact with anyone when you returned, your nerves were buzzing with the possibilities. Thranduil was a King - surely he would not want the heart of someone like you.

“Where is your-?” Legolas asked upon approaching you, but you hushed him, just like you had done when he was a child. You didn’t want any of Thranduil’s subjects hearing what he was going to ask.

“Hush now,” You said, taking his hands and leading him into a dance. “We’ll find out sooner or later, won’t we?”

It was sooner rather than later. Thranduil returned to the party after a few more songs. Around his neck, in a place of high honor, was your necklace. The pendant that meant your life, your love, your being, was close to his heart. He saw you dancing with his son and sent you a rare smirk as he took his seat upon the throne. That alone was enough for now. That was a serious sign that feelings were returned. If he did not return them, the necklace would have been sent discreetly to your room.

“I’m not calling you mother,” Legolas said seriously, once he saw what you had been looking at.

“I wouldn’t expect you too. Mud-crab is always fine by me.”

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil oneshot #The Hobbit #The Hobbit oneshot #LOTR #LOTR oneshot #Lord of the Rings #Lord of the Rings oneshot #oneshot #request

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synchlora · 4 years

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oh my god PLEASE talk abt jet and ghoul. how did they meet? do they have any things they like to do as just the two of them? inside jokes? do they ever argue and if so how does it get resolved? do they give each other gifts?? where are they in a firefight?

YES!! okay fuck yeah!!!

how they met

so ghoul and jet meet uhh. in an. interesting way..... so jet and kobra r the first two of the fab four to meet so they basically start a mini-crew before poison and ghoul join. so one day, jet and kobra are out on a supply run to test out kobra's new vend-a-hack and things. happen.

to make a long story short, a newly-escaped (and. Extremely Dehydrated and desperate) ghoul decided it would be a good idea to. attempt to rob some killjoys?? man was desperate alright. so xe. climbed up onto the vending machine and jumped on top of kobra while he was distracted w the vend-a-hack.

a let me paint u a picture here bc im not sure if this is clear: imagine you're out on an early morning supply run before it gets too hot w ur one and only crewmate, someone uve known for quite a while now. ur out here to test a new device he's made!! something that'll make it easier to steal from BLi, so obviously u both decided to try it out asap. and while u have ur back turned tending to your half-broken motorbike, you hear the shriek of your crewmate, spin around, and see a teenager with greasy black hair (no, literally grease, like that's fucking motor oil in their hair) currently on top of your crewmates shoulders wrestling w him while holding a mildly pointy pen in their hand held (uselessly) like a knife to ur crewmates throat.

so that's how ghoul and jet met achsbscshsbs ghoul attempted to rob them and jet was like COOL!! let's take them home (much to kobra's displeasure having just been "violently attacked" by a "fucking sharp-toothed city kid." to be fair, ghoul did bite him).

things they do / inside jokes

literally nearly impossible to ever find them not physically touching in some way. whether they're leaning against one another in a fire fight, in a tangle of limbs lounging around at the diner, or bumping shoulders/hands while working on their own separate projects-- they're almost always within each other's space

ghoul likes to make bracelets and other jewelry and jet tends to sit still a lot just reading or writing. so there's a lot of lazy afternoons where ghoul is making jewelry literally onto jets wrist while jet just sits around chatting idly abt what they're reading

jet knows nothing abt mechanical shit but loves to sit around in the garage w ghoul if she's ever feeling lonely out there. which is a lot of the time

ghoul knows nothing abt the stars but loves to sit on the roof w jet and hear them infodump abt all their favorite constellations

ghoul is the only one that can use it/its pronouns w jet (it actually makes her rly happy!! only from them tho, it's abt trusting the connotation and person addressing them if that makes sense)

jet's the only one that uses a lot of ghouls other names. they are the only one allowed to use any of the bird-related ones (once again, abt trust and knowing jet's intentions using those names)

arguments

oh my god they get into arguments so much

they get along incredibly well but are so concerned for one another, mainly when it comes to firefights

jet is very bold but also values his crew mates above all else and wants to ensure that they all make it out of the fight alive. she's lost too many people in the past to be careless in a fight

ghoul on the other hand is reckless and will throw xemself out into danger at any chance. they want to go down swinging and they dont value her life as much. he doesn't want to die, but it's more abt trying to prove that she's a "real killjoy" because xe was previously a scarecrow apprentice

they fight a lot abt keeping one another safe in fights, arguing either of their points to no end

what tends to solve these is one of them finding the other and sitting down wordlessly for a little while. these situations usually end w a quiet hug and a lot of tears

the arguments are always out of concern and they both understand that. it's just hard to see the other's perspective and accept that sometimes

gifts

oh these bitches love gifts (both giving and receiving)!!!

as i mentioned above, ghoul loves making jewelry but also likes making little trinkets and metal figures. hes hardly ever keeps anything xe makes and instead will put it on the others or put up the figures as decorations in the diner

jet loves to write, but not poetry or stories. she likes creating rly beautiful calligraphy of random shit their crew has said. it's a lot of fun to see whatever new curse ghoul has invented written in fancy script

jet also believes strongly in beads and has made each of the fab four a strand

ghoul is the type of gift giver that will basically straight up ask you hey do u want this? so there's no surprise w his gifts (though they are still just as wonderful)

jet however will keep a secret to her grave in order to surprise their crew mates with a gift

firefights

despite their differences, their unique strategies rly do work well together in fights

ghoul tends to go to the edges of the fight and take out dracs before they're anywhere near the crew

jet stays closer to the center, keeping mindful of cover and taking out any dracs that ghoul missed in xir reckless attacks

but they can both take down a patrol very effectively, even without the venom siblings with them (which is why ghoul and jet tends to get paired off for supply runs so often)

#im just !!!!!!! them !!!!!!!!!!!!#i love these two sm their dynamic is very interesting #they love one another a lot but also are terrified to see the other get hurt #which is. another reason why sing hurts so much to me :)))#ghoul finally got xir way in a sense. sacraficed himself for her crew..... it fucks me up #thank u sm for the ask!!! <33 i'll take any chance to ramble abt jet and ghoul #sleevesareforlosers #killjoys tag #asks

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caranfindel · 4 years

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Recap/review 15.17: “Unity”

THEN: Chuck is destroying all his worlds. Dean tricked Amara into going along with their plan. Empty!Meg is on Billie's side because she just wants to go back to sleep. (Don't we all, dear.) Billie wants Dean to be ready. Dean finally told Sam the truth and Sam was MAD.

NOW: Amara is enjoying a hot pool and a glass of wine in Reykjavik, Iceland. (She's pretending to read but there's no way she can see that book. Although I guess she could have super vision. Why not? And I'm sure the book itself is significant and maybe I'll look that up later but let's face it, I probably won't.) Her glorious view of the Milky Way is punctuated by what seems to be a falling star. But there are more and more and more and she knows what it really is. "Welcome home, brother."

Title card!

Bunker. Sam is on the phone with Cas, who just found out a possible lead in the "Basilica of Guadalupe" was useless. I wonder if he means the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico? A 35-hour drive from Lebanon? "That's all right," Sam says. "We'll find a way." {Sidebar: Eternal optimism or simple bullheaded refusal to accept the inevitable truth? Discuss.} Dean enters and asks if that was Cas, but Sam doesn't answer.

So, this is how it's gonna be? You're gonna give me the silent treatment?

I'm not sure what you want me to say.

That you get it. Like I said, killing Amara, Jack, dying, that's the only way.

Sam huffs and imitates Dean: "The only way. Our one shot. Our last chance. You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?" The guys are interrupted by a noise, and I'm just going to stop here for a minute, because I need to talk about Sam's anger. Sam's delicious anger. Apparently some people thought it was inappropriate for Sam to be so mad at Dean last week. At least that's what I read on the Tumblr. I'm sure no one reading this post feels that way. I mean, anyone who found Sam's anger inappropriate would have stopped reading my crap a long time ago, right? I just don't get it. This isn't an "I can see both sides" situation. Dean withheld information from Sam - lied to Sam - and I know they've both lied to each other before, but this was something catastrophic involving someone he loves. And when confronted, Dean doubled down. He didn't say "sorry, I just couldn't bear to tell you" or "I was hoping Cas would find some other way" or "I was trying to think of a way to break it to you easy." He blamed Sam. He told Sam he wasn't qualified to have that information because he would have done something about it. And after Dean spent the entire episode whining about having no control over his life, being a hamster in a wheel, he sentenced Sam to the same fate - he told him that he didn't have the right to know about Jack because he refused to just accept that this is their destiny.

I mean, I'm not bitter or anything.

Silver lining: Dean treating Sam so horribly at least means I got some tasty, tasty Angry Sam. (Mandatory disclaimer: I love Dean. I love that he is heroic and self-sacrificing but also deeply, deeply flawed.) Moving on.

Wait. I also love that Sam's justification for the silent treatment isn't I'm punishing you or even I'm mad at you, but is literally there is nothing I can say to you. Nothing I say will mean anything to you. All right, now we're moving on. Searching for the source of the noise, the guys find - Amara! Drinking their beer! Wearing pink again, but this time it's sparkly! "We should talk," she says.

Or, you know, we could just look. Looking is good. We have a little time jump in order to gather Jack. Amara tells the boys that her brother is back, and Jack knows this means it's time. She asks how they're going to cage Chuck, and Dean lies that Jack will be able to do it. Amara hopes she and Jack can get to know each other afterward, and Jack lies that they will. He just has to complete one final ritual. Sam doesn't lie to anybody; he just stands there looking unhappy. Amara asks what she can do to help, and they cut away from any discussion of what she's going to do, but then we get this. When the time comes, we can count on you, right? Like I told you when we first met, you and I will always help each other. Awkward! The way Amara is looking at Dean, I'm pretty sure she knows he's lying, and is just waiting for him to break down. (Spoiler alert: why do I even try?) But Dean and his lying, lying eyes do not break down.

But those eyes don't exactly hide any secrets either, do they? Meanwhile, Jack is concerned that Sam is angry at him. Or disappointed. Sam manages to express both support for Jack doing the thing and a strong desire for Jack to not do the thing. "Sacrificing your life for a cause takes a lot of courage," he says."I still think it's wrong, though." OH SAM. YOU WOULD KNOW. AND YOU WOULD DO IT ANYWAY. Apparently Jack's final ritual is taking place in Santa Fe. Dean's ready to go, and says they can be there by morning. (Oh, I hope she tells us if that's possible, they said sarcastically.) Hey, anyone who doesn't want a deep dive into the logistics of Winchester travel can write their own damn recap skip this part. I think the guys actually went to Santa Fe last season? Ouroboros? Anyway, it's 10.5 hours away. 11 hours if you avoid highways, which we know Dean likes to do, although that route would take you on some mountain roads that would probably be a little much for the Impala. So yeah, depending on what time it is now, "by morning" is doable. I know you're relieved. I think the bigger question is when will Cas get back from Mexico City? (Yes, I'm sure he drove - he was standing by his blue truck. Yes, I know no one else cares.) Dean is surprised to find that Sam's not going. He accuses Sam of "taking a knee," but Sam says that's not what he's doing. He's still looking for another way. Sam, you and me, we have to do this; it's in the book. Oh, Chuck's death book, right? Come on, man! Blindly following orders, sending Amara to her death; does any of this feel right to you? It doesn't matter how we feel! You know what? Stay. Stay. But somebody's got to be the grownup here. Yeah, well, someone has to keep fighting for Jack. He knows what he signed up for! Last I checked, we don't give up on family. Jack's not family! I know how you feel about the kid, okay? I feel for him too. I do. But he's not like you. He's not like Cas. He's just not. I have to confess, I maaaayyyybeee haven't been keeping up with the A plot as much as I should have, because I wasn't aware they were actually operating from a book. (Or I was and I forgot. Stranger things have happened.) I thought this was just Billie's plan. But if it's a book, that means it was fated to happen, right? Um, like the Ma'lak box? And why isn't Sam pointing that out? Why isn't Sam saying "we've already changed one of Billie's unchangeable endings, what makes you think we can't change this one?" But, you know. That's not important. What is important are two things: 1, the way Sam reacts when Dean says "Jack's not family," and B, the fact that Jack has entered the room at some point and heard some of that. Again, awkward! How many times has Jack come up behind someone and overheard something like that? Why don't they put a bell on that poor kid? Jack says he's ready, Sam gives him a sad, broken little smile and Jack and Dean hit the road. Boy, that's gonna be an uncomfortable 11 hours.

Whatever you think about this scene, you have to admit Jared is acting the hell out of it. Bunker. Cas is back, so I guess it's been 35 hours since that phone call. "Stayed behind to find another way, huh? I would have done the same." They research together. Wooded park. Amara. Chuck shows up. A title card weirdly informs us this is Amara. Yeah, we know that. I don't really care that much about their convo. All you need to know is he wants to do a "hard reset" - another Big Bang? - and can't do it without her. But she cares about this world now and wants to protect it. He thinks humans are lame and boring, and she says "what about your first children?" and zaps him into Heaven. He's welcomed by a small, adoring group of angels, but Crystal (an angel named Crystal?) annoys him so much that he snaps them all away. Amara offers him balance, darkness and light, here on this Earth, but he's not interested. So she zaps him into the bunker, which she has made into a trap for him. Impala. Dean, says the title card, unnecessarily. (Now that I've figured out what they're doing, I'd say the odds are 50:50 that Sam will have a title card.) Dean starts to talk about what Jack heard - not necessarily to apologize, but Jack says he understands that he's not like Sam or Cas. Okay then. Morning. They show up at a jewelry store and are greeted enthusiastically by the man and woman inside. "I'm Adam," the man says. "You know. God's primo. First dude off the assembly line." The woman with him is not Eve, but a hippie angel named Seraphina. I guess that means she's a seraph? Get it? (Sorry, I have to amuse myself sometimes.) She proclaims Jack's aura is "like Skittles," and of course it is. What else would it be like, other than something sweet and rainbow-colored? {Sidebar: Or should it be like nougat? Discuss.} Adam and Seraphina are very into Jack and also very much into each other. They separate long enough for Adam to take Jack for a "pop quiz." Seraphina says she knows Jack will pass because she saw it in a dream, which annoys me because angels don't sleep, but it turns out she means a mushroom-induced hallucination. She tells Dean that so many things had to happen for Jack to end up here, it was obviously "meant to be." Which doesn't sit well with Dean. Meanwhile, Adam explains to Jack that because of what God did to him and his sons, he's been wanting to kill him for a very long time. Billie is working with him, and kept him alive so he could finish the job. They've just been waiting for Jack. Adam shows him a tray of crystals and tells him to pick the one that was touched by God. Jack points to one, and Adam is disappointed. That's your choice? Yes. And... the others. All of them. They're just rocks, but their existence makes them divine, because God is in everything. And that's the right answer! Jack and Adam return, triumphant, and Seraphina celebrates by plunging a knife into Adam's chest and prying out a rib. Ew. "Everything can contain the spark of the divine, but this puppy? Is packing enough punch to create life. Or in this case, destroy God." With the power of the rib, Jack will turn into a "metaphysical black hole for divine energy" that nothing can escape. Not Amara, not God. But once is starts, it can't be stopped, so Jack shouldn't use it until "game time."

I'm pleased that Adam is a Middle Eastern guy. Back in the Impala, some hours later, Dean pulls over right before they get home. He apologizes to Jack for hearing what he heard. Not for saying it, but for Jack hearing it. He tells Jack that he hasn't been free his entire life. "But now, now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life. Without all this crap on our backs. And that's because of you. So, I want to say, I need to say, thank you, Jack." Well, that's a nice emotional moment, but isn't Jack doing this to save the world? Not just to get Dean off the hamster wheel? Dean's phone buzzes. It's time. Jack takes the rib out of its baggie and absorbs it into his hand and oh, Jack, I don't think I'd have done that just yet. Bunker. Is this Sam's section? Yes, it is! \o/ Sam hurls a book to the floor in frustration and is comforted by Cas. Guys, Sam and Cas tend to do some crazy fucked-up shit when they're left together unsupervised, and I am here for it. Sam wishes he could talk to Billie about her plan, and Cas immediately assumes he's going to kill himself and puts his foot down. But Sam suddenly remembers what Sergei said about the key to Death's library. "Oh, is that why I invited Sergei here to the secret bunker," Cas says, "because now that makes sense." They start digging through old wooden chests and I'm fairly sure these are boxes full of cursed objects, although all they find are a large novelty chess piece, a gold leaf cross from Hobby Lobby, and the Holy Grail.

Tell me you didn't think the same thing. But Cas eventually does find the box with the key. The box has an inscription in Latin, which Sam reads out loud. By the way, Sam Latinating is always hot, even though he looks like he doesn't understand what he's saying. As the guys watch in amazement, a portal and keyhole appear in the wall. Cas wants to go with, but Sam asks him to stay and buy him some time if Dean comes back before he gets out, even if that sounds crazy. "Sam, for what it's worth, I don't think you're crazy," Cas says. "I think your internal compass is functioning perfectly." And Sam's all, aw, that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time.

"Donde está la biblioteca?” He puts the key in the keyhole and opens the door into the W section of Billie's library. I want him to start pulling books off the shelves and reading versions of his death, but he's distracted by a dead reaper on the floor. And more dead reapers. And the sound of one begging for her life and then noisily dying. He finally sees Empty!Meg (\o/) sitting at the circulation desk, as another reaper pleads for his life. "Please," he cries, "she won't come!" He prays unsuccessfully for Billie to come, and gets his neck snapped for his trouble. Sam immediately tries to nope the hell out of there, but Empty!Meg snaps her fingers and he appears in front of her. Sam Winchester? Meg? Sorry, she's still dead. Just borrowing the queen's pretty face cause really? I'm empty. {Sidebar: Why would Meg's meatsuit go to the Empty with her? Discuss.} Empty!Meg is trying to get Billie's attention, and she drops a bombshell on Sam. Billie intends to become the new God. "Classic narcissist, right? So tingly for the rules, the good old days. Everyone back to where they belong. Realities, dimensions, graves. What should be dead dies, angels off Earth, demons back to Hell, and I go back to sleep!" Oh, wait. Graves? So anyone who was dead at some point, and was brought back to life, would go back to the grave? She tells Sam that he's in God's book - the ornate book in front of her that only Billie can read. "She always talked about how you should be so dead, except she needs you." Empty!Meg decides that hurting Sam might get Billie's attention, and well, y'all know I'm not opposed to that. (If you're new here, hi, my name is caranfindel and I have a problem.) She brings Sam to his knees, but he finally manages to say "Billie sent me." Oh, Sam. He claims Billie sent him to get the book, because she's trapped on Earth. Empty!Meg can't go to Earth unless she's summoned (hmmm, wonder if that will come up later), and Sam says he has a message for her, from Billie. "Billie will honor her promise. God, Amara, they die. And you, you can go back to sleep." Empty!Meg decides to believe Sam, even though he didn't even know who she was or why she was there when he got there, or that Billie had even made any promises, but I'd have a hard time saying no to that face too.

I'll believe your lies. When Sam comes back through the door into the bunker, Cas greets him with "finally" as if he's been gone a long time, so time must flow differently in Billie's library. Cas tells him Chuck and Amara are here, and it's time. "We can't let that happen," says Sam. "We have to stop it." In the trap, Chuck narrates what's happening elsewhere in the bunker. "You hear that? Dean. Brought to the edge of doubt. His sense of duty, his rage, winning out in the end." As Dean drags Jack through the hall, Sam tells him about Billie's plan to take advantage of the power vacuum and become God. Dean doesn't care - he doesn't mind being duped as long as it's not by Chuck. "And poor Sam," says Chuck. "Always gotta know everything. Can't leave well enough alone." Poor Sam stands in front of Dean, trying to stop him. Dean yells that Jack already "lit the fuse" and they can't wait any longer. "This is my ending," Chuck says. "My real ending." And just as I'm wondering if he means his preferred ending, where one brother always kills another, Dean pulls his gun out and points it at Sam's heart. "Move, Sam. Move!" Sam's horrified. Cas and Jack are horrified. I'm horrified. And also, I'm ashamed to say, very entertained. I mean, I don't want the brothers fighting, and yet for Dean to lose the plot so badly that he'd actually shoot Sam in order to get off the hamster wheel? That's some gloriously messed up stuff, friends. Amara is shocked that Chuck orchestrated all of this. "What part of omniscient do you people not understand?" he says, and YES. THIS is something that has long needed to be said. He says that even though he can't read his death book, all he had to do was plant a few visions, mess with a few outcomes, bada bing bada boom! Nobody's killing him! Hallway. Sam pleads with Dean. "I don't want to do this," Dean says, "but this is everything!"

THIS is everything. Trap. Amara tells Chuck they're going to cage him, not kill him. Hallway. Dean does that thing you do with a gun when you want someone to know you're serious. Clicks off the safety, or whatever. Sam makes a have we really come to this? face and yanks Dean's gun hand away. Dean punches him and he drops to the floor. Trap. Chuck tells Amara that TFW is planning to kill both of them. Hallway. Dean drags Jack toward the trap and Sam tackles him. Dean punches him again. Cas just watches all this. What the hell, Cas. Trap. Chuck says the Winchesters are using Jack to destroy them. Amara says that can't be, because Dean can't hurt her. "No, but he can lie to you. He can send you into the meat grinder with a wink and a smile." But isn't that hurting her? Hallway. Dean orders Cas and Jack to go. Sam yells for Jack not to do it. Cas asks why not, because... Cas has suddenly forgotten what side of this argument he's on? "Because if Billie takes over, then everyone goes back to where they belong!" Sam says. "That means everybody from Apocalypse World - Bobby, Charlie - they get sent back to a place that doesn't exist any more. And everyone we saved! Eileen, she just dies, again! And that's just the beginning!" Trap. Amara is devastated. Hallway. Dean yells that they don't have a choice, and Sam says "we always have a choice!" Trap. Chuck tells Amara "the only ones who ever really get us is us." Hallway. Dean says there's nothing they can do but get out of the way, and he doesn't care if Billie becomes God. I'd trade it all, I'd trade 'em all, for Chuck! In a heartbeat! What about me? Would you trade me? Okay, is this Sam pointing out that if Billie becomes God, he dies? Because it's awfully subtle, and I think he just needs to come right and say "that's fine, Dean, but when I told you everyone we saved would die again, I meant everyone, and that includes me!" And Dean would probably also want to know that angels will be banished to Heaven, don't you think, Sam? Anyway. I saw this on Tumblr, and I can't get to it now because Tumblr is being a little bitch, but basically: Sam Winchester may have low self-worth, but he absolutely knows what he means to his brother, and he does not hesitate to use it. Trap. Chuck offers Amara the balance she said she wanted. "Us, starting fresh, creating something new, something beautiful, peaceful, together. And we can finally forget about all this pain. No baggage. Only balance." He extends a hand. Amara takes it and dissolves into smoke, which is absorbed by Chuck, who now has one demon-black eye and one angel-blue eye. And a sadistic grin. Hallway. Chuck has to die. He has to! Otherwise he'll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can't live like that, man! I can't live like that; I won't! I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do. But you gotta trust me. My entire life, you've protected me. From Dad? From Lucifer? From everything. I didn't always like it, you know, but it's the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It's the only thing I've ever known that was true. So please, put the gun away. Just put it away. We'll figure it out, Dean; we'll find another way. You and me. We always do. Gotta admit, I'm torn about this scene. I mean, on the one hand, it's beautifully done, so much emotion and angst and anger and teary-eyed, shaky Sam. Once again, Jared is acting the hell out of it. (And Jensen too, but come on.) And yet, on the other hand... how bad is Sam's Stockholm Syndrome? "You protected me from Dad?" Have we seen any evidence of that? I'm sure Dean was forced to be the referee sometimes, but have we seen any evidence that Dean ever said "no Sam, you're not disowned just because you want to stop hunting and go to college" or "no Dad, I'm not even going to pretend I'll kill Sam," rather than consider it an option until he was actually faced with it? It seems like "protecting Sam from Dad" mostly meant "trying to get Sam to do what Dad wanted, so he'd stay out of trouble." And Lucifer? When Sam told him he was Lucifer's vessel, and the Devil was coming to him in his dreams, Dean basically said "sucks to be you, now pick a hemisphere." Now, I'm aware that Dean has actually protected Sam from many, many things. In good ways and in bad ways. And yet he's also hurt him in some pretty awful ways. I mean, he just now threatened to shoot him for refusing to accept his destiny is to help Dean escape the slavery of his destiny. So for Sam to say "you protect me" is one thing. Dean absolutely does that. But to say it's the only thing that's true, and to specifically mention John and Lucifer, well. Hmmm.

Let's just concentrate on the pretty. Anyway. Dean puts the gun away, Sam sighs a tearful shaky sigh of relief, and then the door to Amara's trapped room explodes. Chuck walks out dramatically - not nearly as hot as Demon!Demon dramatically walking through his own destroyed door - and yells at them. "Are you kidding me? After everything, after all that, you did it again!" He tells them he absorbed Amara, mocks Castiel (which is kind of funny), and says they're all stupid, stubborn, and broken, and he's done with them. "You know what you do with broken toys? You throw them out. So, kill each other, don't kill each other, I don't care." Then he tells them to have fun watching Jack die, and zaps on out of there. Jack collapses, and bad things are clearly happening to him. Well, it's hard to get worked up over Jack dying again (what would this be, the third time?). After all, as Dean said, he's not Sam. I'm more interested in finding out if Dean understood he was sentencing Sam to death when he said he didn't care if Billie became God. {Sidebar: Would Dean die too? Or would everything that happened because Sam was brought back be erased? Discuss. And maybe fic.} And now Amara is gone. But, conveniently, destroying Chuck will also destroy her, so. Balance! Unity! Hugs and puppies all around! Oh, friends. The end is near, and I don't feel good about it. I'm anxious about a lot of things happening next week, and the third-to-last episode of Supernatural is one of them. How do you feel?

Please help me stay unspoiled, including episode titles and casting info, thanks!

#spn #15.17 #spoilers #recap #tv recaps

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