#his life might be in peril at any time so he wouldn't want anyone to get close romantically for their sake🥲

[shipverse]

[Hidden Identity]

Come a little closer, then you'll see

Things aren't always what they seem to be.

While Iron Man is a wonderful hero beloved by the public, Tony Stark has a notorious reputation as the playboy billionaire. Unapproved by Fury, deemed unfit to be an Avenger, Tony tells the press that the man inside the Iron Man armor (clouded in secrecy) is in fact his "bodyguard". Just like in the old comics, Tony worries that if his identity as the hero would be revealed, he'd lose everything; His team (no doubt angry at him for having lied to them all this time), that no one would accept him as a hero, his company Stark International would go under or be overtaken, losing his chance to make a change globally, as well as any chance to do good as a hero, in his armor.

Then we have Steve, buying the playboy facade and public image at face value, thereby not having much of a favorable opinion of Stark. On the other hand, he is head over heels for his witty, brave and selfless partner, Iron Man. (This only adding to Tony's fears and anxieties of his identity being revealed, surely he would be hated, by Steve.. and lose his partner).🥺

(However his actions speaking louder than words, his bonds with the team, and with Steve, may be stronger and count for much more than he thinks..)

アイアンマンは素敵なヒーローだが、トニーは悪名高い評判ので、トニーはマスコミに 「アイアンマンのスーツを着ているのは (スタークではなく) スタークの謎のボディーガードだ 」 と嘘をついて、フューリーもトニーを認めていなかったので、"きっと僕みたいなのはチームから外されるし、嘘がバレたら怒られるし、もうヒーローとして人を助けることはできない.. アベンジャーズには秘密にしておこう......。"ってこういう「秘密の正体」的な設定やAUは大好きです🤗

もちろん、スティーブがプレイボーイの面影を額面通りに判断し、スタークを特に好きではなく、一方で機知に富み、勇敢で無私のパートナーであるアイアンマンには頭が上がらない（これは、トニーが自分の正体がばれたら嫌われるのではないかという恐怖を助長する）のはいい話と思いもす。スティーブは、比喩的にも文字通りの意味でも、マスクの裏側の男を本当に見ることになるのです🥺

Reveal sequel:

Inspired by this song (and looped while drawing): https://youtu.be/uRI0_G9RIDw

[frodo-with-glasses]

The Ring and Invisibility

Indulge me for a second as I contemplate this little piece of Ring Lore that I've often overlooked: "And if [a mortal] often uses the Ring to make himself invisible, he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks in the twilight under the eye of the Dark Power that rules the Rings."

I've read a fair bit of debate, on this site and others, about just what the Ring's powers are and what it can do. Some claim that the Ring just enhances the "power" that its bearer already has; for instance, the reason it makes hobbits invisible is because they're already nearly undetectable to the Big Folk—the book is rather coy about whether or not this is a "magical" ability, because of course the hobbits wouldn't consider it magical if it's normal to them—and the Ring merely amplifies this power. By this logic, the movies making Isildur turn invisible when he put the Ring on is actually an error, because the race of Man doesn't naturally have the "power" of being undetectable.

However! In this paragraph, Gandalf isn't talking about a Hobbit, but a mortal (as opposed to the Elven smiths who first forged the Great Rings). He isn't even talking about the One Ring specifically, but one of the Great Rings in general. To me, this implies that anyone who possesses any Ring of Power can use it to "make himself invisible", with the catch 22 being that this is especially perilous for mortals because they're not strong enough to deal with Prolonged Exposure to Invisibility Spells.

(To back up the point, we have this passage from later in the chapter: "For Isildur was marching north along the east banks of the River, and near the Gladden Fields he was waylaid by the Orcs of the Mountains, and almost all his folk were slain. He leaped into the waters, but the Ring slipped from his finger as he swam, and then the Orcs saw him and killed him with arrows." This would imply that the orcs didn't see him until the Ring fell off; which suggests to me that Isildur was, in fact, invisible.)

This adds to the side effect we're already well familiar with: the "stretching". To an immortal elf, continuing to exist indefinitely would be no problem. They were doing that anyway. But it's terribly strenuous on mortals, whose bodies have a shelf life. Likewise, the peril of turning invisible too many times seems to only apply to mortals; perhaps an elf could use a Great Ring to turn invisible as often as they want and suffer no ill side effects.

(Sort of like how most people can eat as much cheese as they want no problem, while I can only have a little bit of dairy or I'll risk a major sinus headache. But that's neither here nor there.)

Frodo's conversation with Galadriel will delve more deeply into the clairvoyant and controlling powers of the Ring, so I'll table that discussion until we reach Lothlorien. But as a writer myself—who's trying to build her own fictional world and magic system—I find it's a fun and useful exercise to pluck a single rule out of the magic system and think about the logical extremes and plot possibilities that can come out of it. The invisibility rule is a fantastic example; there are so many different ways you could play with it, if the story had allowed for it.

Could the old elven smiths make themselves invisible with their Rings? Would they suffer the same compounding side effects, or not? Can Galadriel make herself invisible? Can Gandalf? For the One Ring, just putting it on will turn anyone but Tom Bombadil invisible; if that power is accessible to Galadriel and Gandalf, I'd have to assume they have the power to toggle it on and off, because they're wearing their Rings all the time. If being more easily detected by the Enemy when invisible wasn't such a problem, how might that ability have been used to their advantage in the story?

How many times does a mortal have to turn himself invisible to get stuck that way? Is the change gradual, or sudden? Even with all the times Gollum used the Ring, he still was very visible; Gandalf calls him "thin and tough", as if stubbornness alone overcame the fading effects. Frodo is more than once described as being "slightly translucent" or "like a clear glass", but that probably has more to do with the wound he received on Weathertop than it has anything to do with the Ring. Obviously the Ringwraiths are the final product of this hideous process—existing, but having no visible form or shape—but what do the in-between stages look like? Can you imagine what the story would be like if the invisibility laid hold of its victims sooner, and Gollum was partially invisible?? It's simultaneously cool and horrifying. And to think Frodo himself was almost a wraith, a ghost, an apparition, shuffling formlessly around the halls of Bag End...chills, man. Chills.

Obviously I don't claim to be an expert on this topic. I'm no Tolkien scholar, just an enthusiastic fan. So if any truly eggheaded Tolkien nerds out there would care to share their insight in the notes, please do so! I'm always eager to learn more. And if I misunderstood the Professor's choice of words here, feel free to correct me. This line just caught my eye, and I figured it'd be fun to dig into it.

I don't know how to end this essay. Uh. Don't do rings, kids. Your face will get stuck that way.

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC vs Cockroach Tag Game

I'm back (or trying to be, at least) and will try to catch up on my asks and tag games, my friends 💜

Thanks to @illarian-rambling for the tag (here)!

I'll go with some of the characters from the main cast of my WIP Of Starlight and Beasts (since I've already done this for a few of my other WIPs, such as Enchanted Illusions and Realms of Loss if I'm not mistaken)! This is going to be fun (:

Corah 9/10 - Doesn't really mind it, as long as it's like, scurrying far away. But will step on it no questions asked if it gets too close or starts being a bother, though all her courage towards it will vanish when the roach starts to fly.

Arammys 6/10 - Is very curious, albeit disgusted and from a distance, about the strange creature. Probably doesn't want to kill it, but is very uncomfy with the bug all the same. One of his friends either kills the roach for him or takes it far away.

Eidan 12/10 - Drop kicks it so fast even the roach's atoms cease from existence. Cosmically obliterates the roach with that kick. Does it so fast his friends are probably in shock at his reflexes. Proceeds to walk it off like nothing happened and tries to carry on any interrupted conversation too.

Rin ???/10 - Eats it as a lil snack. 😃 In front of everyone. Making unbreaking eye contact. Is probably unaware of why everyone is so disturbed by what he just did too.

Masen 1/10 - Will scream and try to jump into somebody's arms, climb some kind of furniture, or stand behind Kyran (or anyone who can stand in between him and the bug as a shield) until the insect is dealt with. If the roach flies towards him or worse, touches him, he'll probably cry and end up vomiting.

Tomasa 9/10 - Depends on her mood. If she's happy and generally okay with life, she'll gently just find a jar or something to pick up the roach and take it outside to nature. If not, shoes - or anything throwable she can get her hands on - will be flying towards the roach at the speed of light.

Kyran 10/10 - Doesn't mind and doesn't care. Is more annoyed at his twin's (Masen) breakdown about the roach than bothered by the bug itself. Will ignore it and let someone else go through the trouble of getting rid of the insect.

Leora 9/10 - Has a mini heart attack upon noticing a roach in the vicinities. Collects herself quickly though, and instantly burns/disintegrates it with her magic. If she's feeling especially petty, she might pick it up with a spell and place it in Masen's room just to watch the chaos unfold later on.

Florynce 8?/10 - Befriends it. Due to her powers, she might actually be able to communicate with it, and if she has the time, might engage in some kind of conversation with the insect. (It wouldn't last though, as her pet raven would be overjoyed at the free snack walking around on the floor, and so the bird would just swoop down and eat it.)

Tagging (gently) - @thepeculiarbird, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @little-peril-stories, @littleladymab, @clairelsonao3, @oh-no-another-idea, @conkers-thecosy, @crowandmoonwriting, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @mk-writes-stuff, @anyablackwood, @lassiesandiego,@steh-lar-uh-nuhs, @cowboybrunch and OPEN TAG

[luckystarchild]

Who would survive the longest on an abandoned island out of the LC gang (including the not quites and hiruko and anyone else u want)

No powers or anything, just pure skills and knowledge!

Oh, I love this ask! I'm going to limit the characters to the core YYH cast + my notable OCs.

BORN SURVIVORS: Kurama, Hiei, Hiruko, Genkai, Minato, and Post-LC Not-Quite-Kagome

Stranded solo or in a group, either way these characters wouldn't have any trouble surviving on an uncharted island for any length of time. Thanks to natural affinities, extensive training or past experience, they know how to obtain food, build shelter, and avoid perilous plants/animals/weather. The ideal people to get stranded with!

Strong Skills: Kurama's knowledge of plants and animal instincts, Hiei's time spent living in the Demon World badlands, Minato is basically a Navy Seal, Hiruko has existed for thousands of years so there's no way in hell he doesn't know how to exist without modern conveniences, and Genkai... is Genkai. Enough said! Also note that Not Quite Kagome will be taking survivalist courses eventually, and once she has those under her belt, she'll basically be unstoppable.

STRUGGLING SETTLERS: Shizuru, Not Quite Keiko, Yusuke, Kuwabara, Botan

These characters have some skills suited for survival in the wilds, but they lack key abilities or haven't received formal enough training to get by easily. By banding together with others (and with enough luck and practice while stranded solo), they could probably learn to survive... but it will be an uphill battle to get comfortable, that's for sure!

Notable Traits: Yusuke's cooking skills and time spent with Genkai, Kuwabara's time being trained by Genkai, NQK was raised by an outdoorsman in their previous life, Shizuru is simply too tough to let anything kill her without a fight, Botan's training with Hiei and roughing it in Spirit World when she fled prison

STRUGGLE-BUS RIDERS: Pre-LC-Not-Quite-Kagome, Koenma, Kaito, Amanuma

It's not that they don't have the ABILITY to learn survival techniques. It's just that they've never had need of them before they got stuck, putting them at a major disadvantage. These characters will try so hard, though. So, so hard. Alas, they don't have any training that might have prepared them for this kind of situation, and/or they're very, very scared of bugs and dirt. Sorry, friends. They're toast.

Dangerous Deficiencies: Koenma is a prince and has never roughed it in his life, Kaito knows some things from reading but has zero real-world survival skills, Amanuma has spent his life indoors playing video games, and Not Quite Kagome pre-training wouldn't be caught dead peeing in the woods

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 22

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Tag: @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The next few weeks went by in utter bliss.

The days after the pitch presentation with the marketing team were spent shooting the models in Sam's building. When Bucky told me you'd had assistants for the shoot, you thought that he was just joking or just wanted to make you feel better but you knew now to believe everything he would tell you. It was the first time you'd had people help you work; the first time you had to order people around. You had people working for the lights, reflectors, fans, backdrops, wardrobe, and make-up. You also had people sitting behind two large desktops connected to your new camera to skim over the photos. You would head over there for every five minutes to look at the photos and if you found something that could work better, you'd have another round with the models.

Considering it was the first time you've handled professional models and athletes in photoshoots, you did excellent and handled everything smoothly. Even Sharon knew it, giving you a small reassuring smile from time to time.

Speaking of Sharon, she actually helped you with the models' wardrobe, and got every new clothing from their inventory, making sure everything and everyone were photographed. She was still walking around with her clipboard close to her chest. She never walked the grounds without it.

Sam would go in and out from time to time. With the other matters he had in his hands, countless partnership meetings on-site and online, it was understandable.

But you knew he trusted me in this. After all, you were partners in this project.

Meanwhile, Bucky had made himself comfortable watching you from the corner of the studio. He made himself too comfortable watching you the whole time you were working that the models thought he was planning something heinous. You laughed them off and told them you were dating.

"Isn't he too old for you?" One model had asked.

"Doesn't really matter to me." You turned your head and glanced at Bucky, his eyes glistening as he stared at you. You bit your lip and faced the model. "Plus, he's hot. I would be crazy not to jump on that."

If only Nat could hear you, you knew she'd be proud.

Even though the two-day shoots were brutal, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you. More when you finally had to do post-production the following week which meant editing the photos.

As promised, you spent your break time over at Bucky's penthouse, naked in his living room, his master bedroom, the kitchen, and his home office. Your legs would be trembling during the shoot but you persevered. You didn't want Bucky to see you weak while working, even though it turned him on. It wasn't helping that he was watching you the whole time. You couldn't see him but you always felt his eyes on you.

The Falcons' new release was set to be launched a month and a half later, just weeks after Bucky's birthday (I'll get to Bucky's birthday in a bit, 'cause that was a whole other thing kept at the back of my mind, you thought). There were still a lot of things happening with advertising and marketing such as the new website, and pages on social media platforms and new packaging.

After the project with Sam, your paycheck came one Monday morning in the mail. Peter kept asking you how much you were paid but you never told him because if you did, he'd let you pay the next six month's rent — and that wasn't even just for your half. It would be for the both of you. You would gladly pay of course, seeing that he's helped you enough financially but you wanted to invest this money to earn more. The paycheck wouldn't stop there, of course. Sam would still pay you if your photos ever get on billboards across any city or when he opens up a new branch.

Sam referred you to a couple more guys he knew. One who needed to photograph models for a skincare brand he'd been rebranding for the past couple of weeks and one who needed to photograph paintings to be sold online. They weren't as big as Sam's business but were big enough in the industry. The production of both were still in the talk.

The next day, you and Bucky went studio hunting downtown. Obviously, your little home studio wasn't fit for incoming clients and this was surely an investment you couldn't pass upon. After renting and earning more profit, you figured you could move into another studio and buy it; a permanent place where you could freely work.

While studio hunting, Bucky insisted to buy the place that you wanted — or better yet, buy a much bigger place so you wouldn't have to move to another studio. But you've already made up your mind. You told him you wanted to do this your own way, with the money you've earned. After signing the contract and lease with your name on it, Bucky hugged you from behind. The property agent eyed you.

"At least let me buy you something, doll." He whispered in your hair as soon as you were left alone. You stood at the center of the empty office, overlooking the busy streets of New York City through the glass walls.  "Please."

You met his arms with your hands, pulling him closer. You leaned on his chest, sighing at the comfort his arms gave you. "Even if I tell you no, I know you're still going to do it."

"You're damn right. Do you have anything in mind you might like?"

You turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Surprise me."

He chewed his inner cheeks before dipping his head to yours, your lips meeting each other. "Oh, I definitely will."

The next day, a whole studio setup filled the used-to-be-empty studio. Complete with backdrops, lights, light boxes, and reflectors. In your new office was a fully furnished desk, complete with a desktop setup where you could edit photos.

You looked at him with wide eyes, ready to lecture him that this was all too much and that you definitely made it clear that you wanted to do all of this by yourself.

Bucky had caught your expression early on, scared that you might have our first argument.

"Before you say anything, this wasn't all me. I figured out a loophole on how I could buy you the things you need for this studio and at the same time, still make you like me and would still make you want to rip my clothes off."

"What did you do this time, James?"

"All of this," he said, gesturing to all the equipment in the studio, "was both me and Sam. Think of it as an investment. If you can get more work and clients, then you can keep everything but if you can't, we'll pull them all out. When you afford to buy everything here, only then can you pay us. This little string here," he pointed to the both of you, "is just business."

You looked at him in disbelief. "Just business?"

He bit his lip. "Okay, maybe a bit of pleasure too."

"A bit?"

"Maybe a whole lot." He shrugged.

"And the whole idea was... just you?"

"Just me, sweetheart. Plain James Buchanan Barnes. You get me, you get the whole package."

"And besides money what will you get out of this little investment idea of yours?"

"I have little care about the money, honestly." He said. "But I'm doing all this for you and you is all I care about."

"You're damn lucky I like you, James."

"Like me enough to have some hot sex right here, right now?"

You smirked, pressing your crotch against his, teasing him. "I get the whole package, right?"

Bucky took you from behind. Your tight skirt hiked up to your waist. Your tits bouncing against the fabric of the beige curtains, your hands gripping them as hard as you could as Bucky thrusted himself hard and deep behind you, his hands either on your hips, your hair, your neck or your breasts. And as you both finished, the curtain rod broke in half, making you and Bucky topple on the ground, the huge curtains falling down on your bodies. The bright sun radiating across the room, the view of the streets startling you.

Laughter filled the room as you stared at each other. The look of exhaustion still evident in your faces and body.

"You're buying me new curtains." You breathed out.

"Me?" He chuckled. "You're the one who pulled them off!"

"The reason why was you."

"I have a better idea."

"I doubt that."

"We should just get these windows tinted." He smirked under the curtains and rolled over towards you, his arms wrapped around your waist. "That way we could just ravish each other in front of this goddamn city without anyone ever seeing us. How does that sound, doll?"

You hummed, brushing your nose against his. "Tempting."

"Is that a yes?"

You shrugged, pulling away from him. "You have to convince me more, Mr. Barnes."

"Oh babydoll, you're gonna regret saying those words."

The following weeks with Bucky was all you could ever ask for but it was getting harder and harder to hide all of this from Peter. Your time together was spent in the confines of Bucky's expensive penthouse when he wasn't in meetings and when you weren't busy finishing the setup in your new studio.

All day you'd cuddle up, watch movies, read books, and just talk more about the beauty and perils of life.

You couldn't go out that much because you couldn't risk Peter or any of Peter's friends to see you and Bucky around. When you visited the bar one day and told Nat all about it, she told you to go to places Peter and any of his friends will never be at.

"Besides, isn't Peter always working?" She asked as you sat down on the booth.

"We still don't want to risk it."

"So, go with my plan."

"Hey," you said, finally thinking her idea was a good one, "how's it going with Steve?"

She shrugged, chewing on her lower lip. You eyed her suspiciously. "Uh-oh, what's wrong?"

"It's still good but..." she paused, her eyes strained. "He's been acting strange lately."

"Isn't he always?" You chuckled. "You may not notice this 'cause you're sleeping with him but he's a bit peculiar for a man his age. Always cramped up in that little office of his. Seriously, how on earth do you have sex in there?"

"I'm bendy, bitch."

"Never should've asked." You mumbled, getting the picture of Nat, well, bending, out of your head.

"Anyway," she sighed, "it's just... he's acting really weird. I can't even begin to explain it. I think something happened."

"Do you think it's about you two?"

"I doubt that." She frowned. "I just know it's something else."

"You want me to talk to him? I'm like a little sister to him." You replied. "Sorta. It's a weird dynamic, I know."

"Sure, if you ever catch him in the office. He's barely even here."

You nodded, taking the new information in. "Now, that's a whole level of weird for Steve."

"Maybe he's just having problems with the bar or something." You shrugged.

"If he did, he'd be here in the bar. I tried talking to him but he says he's just fine. I don't know, I'm just letting him be. It's not like we're in a relationship."

You and Nat talked a bit more about Steve right before her shift started. Then the next day, you gave Bucky a map and marked all the places you could go to without risking being seen. Brooklyn was the only place Peter would never go to. You thought about Queens but May, Peter's aunt, lives around that area.

Brooklyn was no Upper West or Upper East side but it didn't matter to you or to Bucky. You had each other; just the two of us — in the restaurant & lounge, movie theater (where we always end up making out), Barnes & Noble, local coffee shops (where we read the books we've bought), and in the streets of Brooklyn. Strolling hand in hand, stealing kisses on every empty corner, and you taking photos and videos of the beautiful landscape, and the beautiful man who managed to steal your heart.

All the rendezvous with Bucky felt like you were a married woman having an affair — without the secret handwritten letters.

But everything was in place and your heart was full. It was so full it could almost explode.

Spending all the time in his penthouse, in Brooklyn and your studio made me miss your rooftop. A place you've claimed yours and Bucky's; a place he'd claimed you his, and he, yours. You wished we could just go there freely, without having to worry Peter seeing you together doing unspeakable things to one another.

And yes, telling Peter was getting much harder as the month went by.

Back in the Upper West Side, nothing much was going on in the bar. You barely see Steve (though according to Nat, he comes in the bar every now and then), Nat was still Nat of course (and nothing much had changed in whatever was going on between her and Steve), Nick got better at making drinks (thank the heavens for that), Sam would give you constant updates whenever he came with Bucky in the bar, and Peter had been having problems with his marketing team and Wanda's vision for the clothing line they landed.

Now that was something you couldn't believe and was the reason you and Bucky kept postponing on telling him.

Peter was constantly in a bad mood. It got to one point where he wanted to quit the team.

After that, you went to pay Wanda a visit at her studio. You found her sitting in her office in deep thoughts. She was surprised to see you but managed to put on a smile when she approached you with a hug. You offered if you could get coffee from a coffee shop down the block and there you talked about the conflict happening between her and Peter's team.

Boy, when you and Sharon had had an argument, you thought that was already big. But Wanda's case was much bigger.

"This isn't a collaboration anymore. It feels like my artistic vision has no place in it. It's like they're telling me, 'hey, you have a camera just shoot whatever we want you to shoot the way we want it to be shot.' I keep telling them that's not how it works. They keep throwing in my face that they hired me, that they're paying me." Wanda being Wanda, kept on and on and on. "... and that roommate of yours is no help either. He just stays silent the whole time during those god awful meetings. We're already behind track and apparently it's my fault. Can you believe it? God, I don't know what to do. I've never had a marketing team work alongside me before! Have you at least talked to Peter about it?"

You raised your eyebrows, taking a sip of the coffee. "Oh, I wouldn't wanna talk to Parker. He's been in quite a mood."

"Too bad, I was kind of hoping you could knock some sense into him. Should I just quit?"

You talked for about two hours in the coffee shop catching up. It felt kind of rude to talk to her about The Falcons but she insisted. And she genuinely looked and sounded so happy for you, which made you feel a bit guilty for being so envious of her success.

You parted ways in her studio but before you could even get out of her office and go to Brooklyn to meet with Bucky, Wanda called out your name and handed you a film camera.

And it wasn't just any film camera. It was yours — the one that she borrowed back in college.

"It's long overdue, y/n. I was just finding the right time to give it back to you."

You gave her a reassuring smile, telling her it's okay. Hell, you even forgot you lended it to her until today. "Thanks, Wanda."

"I haven't had the film developed, by the way. I took a couple of photos before realizing I've run out. I didn't want to get them developed since most of the photos are yours."

After that, you convinced Bucky to go to some shops in Brooklyn where you could get them developed but he insisted you should just make the little spare room in the studio into a dark room. You didn't know why you agreed but you did, anyway. Bucky always had a way with words. Or perhaps it was because of his intoxicating voice. Either way, you were addicted to every part of him. He could try to persuade you in gibberish and you'd still say yes.

It was already the week before Bucky's birthday. You've already met with your new clients, began planning pre-production, and almost finished setting up the studio, yet your brain was still racking what on earth to get Bucky for his birthday.

Howard picked you up in your studio an hour after your meetings and thanked him as you got out. Leonard greeted you inside and led you towards the elevator that goes right up to Bucky's penthouse.

Bucky just came out of his study when you greeted him with a kiss, his phone in his hand.

"So, who was on the phone? Parker?" You asked as soon as you sat down on the couch.

"That was Tony."

You pursed your lips and nodded, caressing the top of his head. "Tony's been calling you a lot lately." You commented, recalling the times you've seen Tony's name on Bucky's phone screen. "Is everything fine?"

"It's kind of weirding me out too, doll but this time, I kind of figured why he called."

You frowned and stopped playing with his hair. "What do you mean?"

"It's the first time in five years I'm in New York for my birthday and knowing him, I know he'd throw me this huge party." Bucky chuckled. "And I couldn't say no because well... It's Tony — "

You smiled at him. "That's really sweet of him! He must've been missing you a lot."

"I'm not done yet, doll." He placed his finger on your lips.

You giggled and hid how easily that gesture turned you on.

"The birthday party has a theme." With his finger still on your lips, you waited for him to finish. Something you always anticipated in bed. "It's the Great Gatsby."

Your mouth fell agape, smiling at him. In your head, you were already seeing him in a neat, dazzling vintage suit. "Oh my god, why do you look so glum? It sounds like a great party!"

He shrugged. "Honestly, I just want to spend my birthday with you." He pecked your lips then whispered. "No fancy party. Just you."

You kissed him back, then placed your head on his shoulder. "I'd love that too, boo but I'm nothing compared to a Great Gatsby party."

"You couldn't be more wrong, sweetheart." He sighed, pulling you up to his lap. "I'd choose you over any fancy party. I just want you."

"You still have to go, Bucky."

He groaned, dipping his head on your shoulder as he pulled you closer, his hands tight on the sides of your thighs. "I don't want to."

"You have to." You giggled, lifting his head. You put your hands on his jaws, looking straight at him. "Okay?"

"I'm turning thirty-nine in a week, y/n. I'm too old for a costume party."

"Puh-lease." You scoffed. "You streaked in the streets of Greece when you turned thirty-four and you're telling me you're too old for a costume party?"

He groaned, throwing his head back. "Why do you always bring that up, doll?"

"It's one of my favorite stories I've been told about my boyfriend." You smirked, bringing his head back in between his shoulders. "It would be my favorite if I were with you."

Bucky sent you a glare. "No way am I letting other people see you naked. Never in a million years."

You shrugged. "You almost did when we had sex that one time in my office, Buck. Come on, go to the party. It's your party, anyway."

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He tucked it behind your ear. You smiled at the gesture. "If anything, it's Tony's party, Not mine. He's sort of a diva."

"He's still throwing it because of you. Come on, boo."

A moment of silence occurred.

"You're coming with me, then." He replied. "I'm not going if you're not going."

You hummed, looking up at the ceiling. "Let's see... A party with my boyfriend, his adoptive father who's one of the richest people ever to exist on this planet, and his stepbrother. Well, it's a party but not that fancy."

He moaned. "Then be my date in secret. Come on, doll, we've been really good at it. We can sneak out for a few minutes and make out. That way, I could still be with you."

You knitted your brows. "That sounds more like Romeo and Juliet. Not the Great Gatsby."

He chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose. "Come on, y/n. It's my birthday. Don't I get special treatment on my special day?"

You looked at him with narrowed eyes, knowing he would never drop this. The worry of a party with the person you had been avoiding the past month was settling inside but Bucky's arms around your waist made that all disappear.

"Fine." You sighed. "Your wish is my command, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky smiled in victory, leaning in closer to your face. His lips brushed against yours. "Wishes, baby. That's not the only wish I want."

"You have two more then."

"Oh wait, I should rub you first after making a wish, right?"

You shook your head. "Don't push it."

He sneered, carefully rubbing your thighs. "My second wish would be me buying you a dress but don't let me see it until my birthday comes."

You hadn't had any chance to argue because well, it would be his birthday. And you couldn't resist Bucky.

I don't think I ever could.

"Deal." You sealed it with a small kiss then stood up from his lap. "Only if you let me go shopping now,"

"Now? Like, right now? It's a bit too early, don't you think?"

You nodded and gave him a playful smile. "It is. I just wanted to tease you with a little secret I'll be bringing home with me tonight."

"Oh no," he reached out his arms, "don't do that to me. Come on, get back here. I have a better idea."

You sighed, getting back on his lap, straddling him. "Of course, you do."

"I'll have someone over here tomorrow. I'll have one of the best dressmakers here to make you something gorgeous. How does that sound?"

"It sounds expensive." You warned. "But wonderful. I'll be here in the morning."

After spending another hour at Bucky's, discussing what could've been his birthday plans with me (a simple rooftop dinner, where we could get drunk and have drunk sex underneath the tent — that was just one of the crazy options he offered), you went straight to the bar and looked for Nat, hoping she could help me what to get for Bucky on his birthday.

As you got there, you barged inside only to find the bar empty. You looked around, wondering why there were no people inside only to realize it was two in the afternoon and it was a Monday. You looked back on the door, wondering why it was open. Then, it hit you: Steve. He must be here.

"Steve?" You called out as you neared his office. "Steve, you here?"

No answer.

You knocked on the door and called out his name one more time but you were only met with silence. Without hesitation, you opened Steve's door. You were greeted with a pile of papers. It was like they were growing from the ground.

"Steve?" You called out once more but there was still no answer. You walked around the room to find more papers. You picked one up, seeing it was a newspaper dated back 2012. It was an article about an explosion that happened in the Upper East Side. But you couldn't see the details since only the headline was in sight. It seemed like the whole article had been cut or shredded.

You wondered if Steve was the one who wrote it.

It was the first time you ever got a good look in his office. Inside were dusty. To think that he spends most of his time here, he'd bother to clean once in a while.

On the back of his table were a bunch of photographs lined up. Some of his family, you assumed, fishing on a lake. Then, something caught your eye: a small framed picture that was facing down.

Curious, you slowly picked it up.

An audible gasp came out of your mouth when you saw the photo.

It was Bucky and Steve.

[my-headcanons-academia]

Inko chews out Endeavour

Characters: Inko Midoriya, Izuku Midoriya, Shouto Todoroki, Endeavour

Genre: Angst, a little bit of fluff and catharsis

TW: Mentions of child abuse, abusive home life, mental drain

Word Count:3 K

A/N: This may be a teensy bit long :3

•Okay listen

•Midoriya is god damn horrified when he hears what Endeavour did/does to his kids. He had obviously guessed that the second-best hero there is who is training his family to also become heroes would have some extensive regime but what Shouto explained wasn't "training" it was just abuse.

•He immediately offers Shouto and his sibling's a place with him and his mum without a moment's hesitation. They're not as rich as the Todoroki's or live in as big a house with as good food, but they're happy. •And when Shouto declines, Izuku isn't really sure what to do.

• it's not his place to tell any media or higher authorities, it'd drastically change the lives of Shouto and his siblings and would affect all of them the rest of their lives. He feels like he can't do much and a part of him feels like doing nothing means he's condoning the abuse that still happens in that home like the emotional neglect and things Shouto may not have mentioned. But he can't do anything about that right now, simply because Shouto won't let him. And while Izuku is fighting every instinct he has which is to take the Todoroki siblings out of there and into a therapist's office, it's not his place to do that.

•So instead, he does what he can for them, like offer to go places more so they're out of the house. Offer free anonymous therapy sites. Have their own improv therapy whenever needed. Promise to be there for whoever trusts him and for those who it may take longer to trust him.

•But with all his good intentions, he starts to bite off more than he can chew. Even when it's not in the midst of midnight therapy or distracting days out, it's constantly nagging at the back of his mind that he wants to do more and he isn't doing everything he can. He doesn't want to "fail" at being a good friend, since he hasn't had many experiences to base off (or any for that matter) but he is running out of emotional room.

•Contrary to the Todoroki household, Inko Midoriya actually notices when her child is going through some rough times and tries to do her best to help.

•I imagine Inko and Midoriya have a close relationship. With no other reliable parent figure in the house, they spent a lot of time together. Not only are they parent and child, but they are also friends who enjoy each others company. Inko may not always understand his fascination with All Might but she'll always ask questions and prompt him to go on about the differences in All Might's costumes and moves, even if she knows all the answers already in the same way Izuku may not understand why she enjoys sewing so much ever since she made him his hero costume but will not hesitate to help her go shopping for and carry new fabrics as she talks about the colours and texture helping boost peoples confidence. (She wants to get better at sewing so she can make a new costume for him that's better than ever before.) •And because Inko and Izuku were rather close, she knew his tells. she'd learnt well from their daily game nights to know when he lying and when he was hiding things. But that was during games. This was far more strenuous. But before she rushed in and crowded him, Inko thought that if there were really something he didn't want her to know, then she shouldn't know. So long as it doesn't hurt him. So, respecting the fact he is now a teenage boy and not a child anymore, she knew he was smart enough to make his own decisions.

•But also being herself, she still wanted to help, even if she didn't know exactly what was going on.

•At first, she thought Izuku wasn't sleeping enough because of the stress of UA so she'd plan days to the seaside or mini-holiday or they could try to make a new dessert or do a movie marathons to distract him from it. And she always took note of how very time she offered, he'd always insist some way or another that the Todoroki's join them which of course she had no quarrels with, she was delighted he loved spending so much time with his friends!

•When that didn't help she offered to get him a tutor, maybe he was anxious about his studies? She didn't trust her own education enough to tutor him as he was always impressing her with fun trivia and general knowledge but she'd taken a break in her sewing hobby to save up some money to be able to pay for a tutor.

•But when he began not eating as much, mind always preoccupied with something else than his usual hero ideology and theories, the day of the annual parent-teacher meeting and Izuku hadn't uttered a word since he got home, she sat him down on the couch, held his hands, his scarred and trembling hands, and she asked him. "Are you alright?"

•She's asked this many times before, every time he came home from school, every time she found him up in the middle of the night shakily drinking some water while staring at his phone as if expecting some death from the family. But this time? •This time her words echo in Izuku's head, getting louder and louder with each reverberation, picking up speed and other voices with every hit to his mind, the sound of text messages, quiet telephone calls, rushed breathing, stifled words, hearing footsteps from the other line, the need to help all drowning him in a cacophony of utter helplessness. •And he crumples against his mother, clawing onto her shirt like a life-jacket barely keeping him afloat above the ocean of noise only he is in and he cries. The tears stain Inko's cardigan and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him onto her lap like she used to when he was a child, she holds her son, her baby boy, as his tears dampen her clothes and his voice breaks choking on sobs.

•It was a long day.

•Izuku and Shouto had talked before about telling Inko or an adult or just anyone but there was always some reason, some excuse why it couldn't happen yet. It would be a decision all the siblings would have to agree to as it affects all their lives. Fuyumi was always hesitant, so cautious and making sure if anything were to happen nothing could be left to chance and all outcomes had to be planned. Natsuo wanted whatever would help everyone the most, and if no one was ready to do anything right now, then he'd wait. Shouto thought long ago that if what his father did to his family ever came to light, it would be brought up for the rest of his hero career and he'd never be able to truly escape his dad's hold if it always followed him like that. And until he met Midoriya, that's what he thought for years.

•Shouto was warming up to the idea of saying what happened to him specifically to someone. To see what would happen.

•And that is what Izuku could let slip. The things Shouto had told him at the sports festival, the reason for his scar, his spiteful technique and motivation to be a hero. •It was a long day. •The moment all was said and done, that he had run out of tears to cry, that he had ruined his mother's cardigan by stretching it with his grip and made it soggy with his sobs, that he could breathe without a hiccup or tremor interrupting him, he was completely drained. There was a mix of hollowness after spending so long building it all up, unsure every step of the way whether he's doing the right thing or not and the relief of finally letting there be room for him to breathe.

•But in his hollow chest was a stab of guilt, anxiety, crawling back up his throat and blocking his lungs like a thick mucus of worry. Had he done the wrong thing? It wasn't his place to say- He should have talked with Shouto more about this- Was he wrong to have done nothing so far?- Oh god he's done nothing right- this could hurt them-

• "Shhh," Inko gently held the back of his head and rubbed small circles with her thumb into the back of his neck, like she used to to do calm him down as a child, it still worked "It's-..." Inko collected her thoughts. It was certainly a lot to process, she had her suspicions but she thought she was being paranoid. She'll learn to trust her gut more. "It's not alright right now, but one day it will be. For you and for them."

•And that worry in his chest turned to blunt guilt, he shouldn't be the one crying while Shouto and his siblings have withstood literal torture all their lives, he should be stronger, he needs to be stronger to help them-

•"You are children. And none of you should have to deal with this. I know you're growing up faster than I can blink and you're being a hero more and more every day, but that doesn't mean you were prepared for this exact situation. They train you to fight villains and criminals and how to save those in immediate peril who want saving. Not thins like this." Inko continued to speak softly, pulling Izuku closer and soothing the back of his neck "Thank you for telling me and I can understand why you wouldn't want me to meddle as it may be out of my depth, but, two people helping them is better than one."

• Midoriya told Shouto what had happened and apologised for spilling too early, apologised for not doing enough, apologised for being less than open about the emotional and mental space he had to spare, promising to be more aware of it so long as Shouto continues to trust him and talk when needed. Shouto was confused as to why Midoriya was apologising so much as always and despite the apprehension in his movements, Shouto had spent enough time with Inko to trust her. And also to know that while Inko is kind, that isn't all she is.

•Shouto had seen her repay the kindness people had shown her tenfold with gifts, acts of service, compliments, reassurance and more. And something about that deep-rooted kindness tipped him off to the idea that if someone were to take advantage of her kindness or her son, that injustice too shall be repaid. And, as slow as it was and as long as it took, he knew she considers him her son too.

• Overall, the parent-teacher meeting was going well for most students. Most students were in their more casual clothes except those who had been too lazy to change out of their school uniform for the day albeit having their shirts scandalously untucked and top buttons undone (Except for Bakugo who in the presence of his mother for the first time had his tie actually tied, truly it was a sight to behold and blackmail photos to be used for months.)

• Amidst all the parents gathering together while waiting for the respective teachers to be free of their current appointments, there he was. Enji Todoroki, Endeavour in his hero costume supposedly fresh from the job. • And thus, politely fuelled by karmic fury the 5'2 force of nature marched up with a smile to the flaming rotting piece of shit excuse she can barely call a human being and greeted him.

• "Oh, hello Enji." Inko smiles. Izuku stands back with Shouto on the sidelines, watching the encounter unfold. • First of all, the informality caught him off guard. Usually, he'd be used to fans being "Overly-friendly" but something about the smile in her voice didn't sit right with the way fans usually say it. This turned a few heads.

• "And..who are you?"

• "Why I am so glad you asked, my name is Inko Midoriya, the woman whose house your son goes to every day but I suppose you wouldn't know that since as long as he's keeping up his work then there is nothing else to do with him at all," she coughed ", like parenting," and continued "Speaking of being in public I could never be as confident as you are to go to a casual event in a full-on hero costume but I suppose if it helps boost your ego then go for it! Although, speaking from the perspective of a concerned parent, aren't all of those flames a safety hazard! what if you were near a flammable thing like, oh I don't know, civilians clothes in a place you know where said civilians are tightly packed together, or there could be someone well-known to have a flammable quirk nearby or just a building's structure being, on the whole, a rather flammable thing?" Her head turned to the overgrown vermin who lead the school who had entered the room upon hearing there was a commotion "Not that I doubt UA's defence measures and predicted disastrous occurrences as no such thing has ever failed in the past. It's just the safety of children and the future generation of heroes after all." and just as quickly turned back to Endeavour

•"You know I noticed there are plenty of other pro-heroes here who are just fine in their everyday clothing because they recognise this get together is about their children's achievements and not their own. Why, if I didn't know any better I'd say you really are that insecure in your title slipping because that's what being a hero is all about, the title, that you'd distract entire families from the point of being here just to pay attention to you because it's not like being the second supposedly best hero there is credits you any attention."

• Enji barely had time to stop the flames protruding from his hero suit from dying out as peoples heads turned to pay attention. By now every student had pulled out their phone to record the situation.

•Nedzu was on his way over, laughing awkwardly ready to diffuse the situation but had miraculously been needed for a sudden important event in the teacher's lounge and was immediately escorted by Aizawa and Present Mic.

•"Oh and may I go on and say you truly are an inspirational story of how being raised as a gifted child must have been really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your life thinking you’re worth a damn without your quirk so you made it your entire personality until you developed your own actual personality because of course you, the Number Two hero would outgrow such a childish nature. That sounds rough," she pouted in mock sympathy.

• Endeavour snarled behind gritted teeth, barely stopping himself from acting out of hand at the public slander. "Just who do you think you are-"

•"Like I said, my name is Inko Midoriya, the pleasure is all mine I'm sure, or did you not hear me the first time while that fire was covering your ears? just like how it must have covered your eyes with choosing that outfit to be approachable. Oh do excuse me if that seemed rude, I'm a seamstress as a hobby you see so I tend to have an eye for when things are just wrong in every way. Honestly, if you didn't parade your title everywhere you go I'd mistake you for a villain on sight. You see, I'm only a seamstress and not a hero like you as you love to flaunt no matter the situation or need for it, but it must be so rewarding to save all those people every day and return to a home with your loving children and children who want to do the exact same thing and be exactly like you because you must be such good role-model and parent to have accomplished so much in your career and of course spent enough time on each of your children to help them grow to be happy, full of inspiration and their own dreams to fulfil. Oh, and of course your wife who must be so proud of the person you've become!"

• By this point the flames had been sputtering at random, a rare purple and even blue flamer erupting once and again as this woman continued talking and the parents out the corner of his eye who thought they were out of his sight nod their head and faces contort into realising the full weight of the truth they already knew but now understand.

• But Inko was nowhere near close to done, Endeavour could hear as much when she took a small break to smile and take a bigger breath to continue. • And blinded by the public's disapproval of everything he had convinced he had Done for the good of the civilians, he could feel the ground, just like his title, being pulled from under him as quicker heroes hit the back of his knees as Inko swung her handbag with the metal buckle across Endeavours face while she was being pulled safety away from the punch Enji hadn't realised fast enough he had thrown.

• The videos uploaded by students went viral in seconds

•"shocked" by the number two hero's emotional outburst with malicious intent to harm an unarmed civilian, Inko let it be known she found it unsuitable that he go back home to his children and instead of that they live with her and make a record with either police or a licensed therapist to make a note of any other emotional outbursts or strange and potentially dangerous behaviour in complete confidentiality.

[greenygreenland]

Sink or Swim: Kai x Reader [kinda angsty]

-tbh i had a tiny crush on Kai growing up

-i still swoon over him when he's cool but like, lloyd has stolen my heart

-you all live in yang's temple still

-as a note, i write for female readers because uhhh yeah plz don't be mad at me ;-; (and either way, you can always change the words around in your head if it bothers you)

Summary: Kai needs help. You're there for him, catching him before he sinks.

Kai's got Lloyd, but who's got Kai?

Ninjago was filled with a variety of perils. Some were easier to see, such as destruction of any population within the premises of Ninjago city. Other times, it was minuscule, like a speck of dust. If you looked hard enough without blinking, you could see it. But most times it was invisible.

The sun was bright today, shining past the swiftly moving clouds as you clashed under its heat. Sparks flew as your katana slammed into Cole's, who skillfully parried your blows. You readied another combo, twisting to the right and faking a slash before spinning and striking to the left.

"Cole look out!" shouted Kai. Cole wasn't fast enough, and you knew it was because he wasn't used to using a katana. His hammer lay on the platform leading inside, right by Jay's side under the sunshine.

You suddenly realised Cole would be split in half if you didn't stop. But how could you when the inertia practically sent you flying towarss him? "Cole--!"

Clang!

Kai parried the attack. He hit your blade with so much force that it was sent flying across the courtyard, thankfully, clattering harmlessly on the ground. You heaved out a harsh sigh and slapped your knees. "That was close. Sorry Cole." He chuckled, giving Kai a good slap on the shoulder.

"For once our Hot-Head wasn't distracted by his 'oh-so-perfect' looks." Cole said. "How did you do that so fast?" Kai sheathed his sword with a shrug. It was odd to see him so quiet, especially around this time in the day. His expression remained relaxed, but it was void of its usual smug smirk. "I don't know, I just improvised."

You can't help the frown settling on your lips. There was an edge to Kai's voice, as if he had just returned from an unseen battle between life and death. He looked normal, yet the way he forced out a small laugh made you cringe.

"I'm going inside, think I might shower." he abruptly announced. "Don't train too hard or you might bake in the sun!" You watched as he fiddled with the strap on his sheath, twiddling it and running it between his fingers. He caught your stare and flashed a fleeting smile your way, yet it didn't feel genuine. "Kai--"

He pretended not to hear you and rushed through the temple doors. Your frown deepened. "He looks upset." Jay rested his cheek in his hand with a snort. "I'll say. He looked like he was thinking hard about something."

"But what?" Cole inquired with a sigh. "Nothing's been happening around Ninjago, shouldn't he be happy about it? He can play video games all he wants now, or, I don't know, talk to Skylor on the phone? Morro's gone and Lloyd's fine now." Zane raised doubtful brow. He took a seat by Jay and leaned his head back against one of the supporting beams. It was an odd sight to see everyone so deeply in thought again, especially since none of you should have been deeply in thought in the first place.

"Lloyd has not fully recovered." Zane notes. "He suffers from mental trauma and is regaining his strength as we speak." Nya hummed in agreement. She set her weapon down with a thoughtful nod and leaned against a supporting beam. "I don't know about you, but he seemed kind of sad. Why don't you talk to him (Y/n)?"

"Yeah, you're his girlfriend so you guys share a special connection." piped up Jay. You cam't deny that. Your relationship with Kai was special, so he told you certain things no one else had ever known about him. Whether it be about his past, or even what he dreams for the future, you knew it all.

Well except this.

You stood up, ignoring the low cracks from your aching body. "I'll be back." You pulled open the temple's doors, gently shutting it behind you as you surveyed the vast room. The main hall was empty, save for Sensei Wu who sat at a table drinking tea. He turned to you, eyeing your troubled expression knowingly. "Kai is in his room." he simply stated. You smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you Sensei."

You sprinted up the stairs, caring not if you skipped the creaky steps or walked right over them. It was quite tranquil in the halls of the quiet temple, yet somehow, it made you uncomfortable. "Kai?" You stopped in front of his door. "Kai--"

Sniffling. That was the first thing that caught your ears. Your fingers paused on the door handle, slipping past the cool metal as you continued to listen to the sounds. You knew what crying sounded like, but this? It was earth-shattering. The way he cried sounded exactly like raw agony. It was painful to listen to, yet you couldn't bring yourself to walk away.

If Kai was suffering, you had to be there for him like all the times he had been there for you, or Lloyd, or Nya and Jay and Zane and Cole.

Your fingers wrapped around the door handle. You gently knocked and peeked inside. He sat on his bed with his back facing you. His katana lay on the floor instead of of by his bed or next to his pillow like he usially did.

"Kai?" Your voice came out as a gentle whisper. "Are you okay?" His crying ceased so quickly that if you hadn't been standing outside listening, you would have thought everythimg were your imagination.

"Yeah." he steadily said. "I'm okay. I just needed to take a break after that spar. It got really intense." He laughed. It wasn't a happy one. If you knew what it felt like to have your organs ripped out, you'd describe it as listening to Kai fake his laugh and fake his happiness. He put on a brave face for the world, and perhaps that was because he knew people relied on him to step up when Lloyd couldn't.

You opened the door a little wider and let yourself in, softly closing it behind. "If something's wrong Kai, you can tell me." He sniffled quietly. "No, I'm fine." He laughed; you didn't miss the quiver in his voice. "I'm just a little tired."

"No, it's something else. I won't judge you, promise."

Kai sniffled and grabbed a tissue from his nightstand. He blew his nose with a shaky breath and tossed the tissue in the bin. For a good minute, he sat there in silence, slowing inhaling and exhaling rattling breaths. You made your way over to him and took a seat at the edge of his bed. He kept his back towards you as he sniffled some more, so you sat there, watching his shoulders quiver.

Slowly, Kai entertwined his hand with yours. He gave it a good squeeze, as if reassuring himself you were still there. You didn't want to say anything to him yet. If you did, you were sure it would break his already fragile tranquility. Thankfully, he made the first move.

"I know you wouldn't leave me," he began, "but sometimes I can't help worrying. What if we go on a mission and none of us make it back? Lloyd almost died, Cole's a ghost.... What if something happens to you? Or--or Nya and Jay or Zane?" He let out a rattling breath that spoke of all the battles you both endured. It was hard to believe you both survived every single one of them.

"Kai, we've lived this long." you said. "Why not longer? And even if one of us does die, life will go on. It always does in Ninjago, and it blooms again into something new." You squeezed his hand. "You're thinking about your parents too."

The quiet Kai stayed in was enough of an answer.

"I understand it hurts. You know, my parents died when I was very little. I don't remember how they looked like, but I remember what I felt. They made me so happy. It was short, but I found it again in you and the others. Even if something disappears, it's never truly lost." You smiled even though Kai would never see it. "Lloyd's still here because you saved him. None of us are going anywhere for as long as we can help it."

Kai's shoulders slumped. A sigh left his lips and he finally turned to face you. What strikes you the most about him isn't the puffiness under his eyes, or the bags and crinkle in his brow--it's the life that's been sucked out of his expression. His eyes were hollow, as if someone had completely wiped the emotion of happiness from existence. The deep frown tugging at his lips is even worse. It's thin, tight, and quivering.

"I-I'm sorry..."

You placed a hand on his cheek. "Kai." It's all you can muster, a name, a look of sorrow, and worry. Howw had you not seen this? How had you missed something so plainly put?

You gently pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his warm body as the rain fell from his eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for. If anyone should be sorry, it's me. I should be there for you, but I didn't notice. I love you though and I'm here now." you gently whispered.

"You're not alone Kai. You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. We're all here for you and no one is leaving." His cries started out soft, but with each word that left your mouth, his whimpers grew, gaining and gaining in volume until a heart-wrenching sob ripped through his throat.

Tears gathered in your eyea and you allowed yourself to cry with him. It hurt to think about losing anyone, it hurt to see your boyfriend so battered, so beaten and defeated. What cure could you offer to remedy his pain you shared?

There was no answer to that. And so you sat there, keeping your arms tight around each other as if either of you would disappear. Right now, it was sink or swim. You had to fight the ache and push forward, even if it felt like you were both drowning.

Please don't forget to reblog so this can reach more people! Thank you all for reading!

[emachinescat]

Lest Back the Awful Door Should Spring

A Tales of Arcadia: Trollhunters Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 3 - imprisonment

Summary:  Sequel to my previous fic, “That I Could Fear a Door.” When Jim is arrested by the Tribunal and thrown in prison, something in him breaks again that he thought had been fixed.  Suddenly, it’s like he’s back in the Darklands, reliving the worst moments of his life that seem determined to never let him go.

Characters: Jim Lake Jr.

Words: 2,223

TW: Panic attack, Depression, PTSD

Keep reading here or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging!

I fitted to the latch

My hand, with trembling care,

Lest back the awful door should spring,

And leave me standing there.

I moved my fingers off

As cautiously as glass,

And held my ears, and like a thief

Fled gasping from the house.

- From “Home” by Emily Dickinson

Jim wouldn’t go so far as to say that his life had gone back to normal after re-adjusting to life outside of the Darklands, but he had fallen into a new kind of rhythm that allowed him to live again.  He was more like his old self in many ways - he smiled again, for one.  He didn’t laugh as much as he used to, but when he did it was genuine, and his life and Trollmarket and school and home didn’t feel so much like they belonged to someone else anymore.  He still had nightmares, but even they were coming less frequently.  

His confidence was coming back, too - slowly.  As his thinned, weakened frame began to fill out once more and lean muscles reformed, as cuts and bruises shrunk and changed color and finally disappeared, he felt better.  More like his old self.  He didn’t actively avoid mirrors anymore.  He still struggled with feeling like he wasn’t enough, like he hadn’t been strong enough or brave enough or trusted his friends enough or fought back against Gunmar enough, but his bi-weekly chats with Nomura had started to break up those thought patterns, too.

It got harder, and he felt himself slipping back into old fears and feelings, when they could no longer deny the horrible truth that Gunmar had escaped from the Darklands, that he had followed Jim through.  A part of Jim wished that he himself had just stayed there, that his friends would have let the bridge get buried, and that he had died there.  Then his friends, his town, his whole world, wouldn't be living in the impending shadow of Gunmar’s brutal reign.

He held himself together though, mostly, because the best thing he could do for his friends and Arcadia was to work tirelessly against Gunmar’s return and fight even harder to keep the two worlds he inhabited - troll and human - safe until they could find a way to defeat the Gumm-Gumm king or send him back to hell.

He hit a very rocky patch when Draal got possessed.  When he’d refused to fight his friend in the hallway of his school, when he saw those glowing, blank eyes and heard the voice from his nightmares taunt from his friend’s mouth like poison squeezed from a stone, it wasn’t just because he didn’t want to hurt Draal that he held back.  He didn’t realize it until after the battle, after Draal had gone and he was alone in his room trying to process all that had happened, but there had been a small part of him that was hoping that his efforts to defend himself would be half-hearted enough for Draal to land a killing blow.  It wasn’t necessarily that he wanted to die.  But he didn’t think he’d be too broken up about it if he did.

But his guilt had soon been replaced with a rushing rage and determination - Gunmar had taken too much already; he would not have Draal! - and soon he was pushing forward, friends at his side, defending Arcadia and Trollmarket, searching tome after tome in Blinky’s vast collection in any ounce of spare time for a cure, anything that would save Draal.

He managed to stay strong - though if it weren’t for Toby and Claire, Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, Draal and Nomura, he would have crumbled long ago - and to fight off the demons that had been raging war against his mind and soul since the moment he’d entered the Darklands alone.  

That is, until he was arrested by the Tribunal on his way down to Trollmarket after a surprisingly fun day in detention.  The moment Usurna’s guards grabbed his arms and started hauling him away, everything that Jim had so carefully and painfully pieced back together shattered, like he was a child who had glued a broken vase back together hoping no one would notice, but someone slammed a door too hard and the glue couldn’t hold…

He didn’t even hear Claire and Toby calling after him, demanding that he be released.  He barely even registered the shocked and indignant faces of his friends in Trollmarket who watched as he was dragged between two enormous trolls, their stone-like hands completely dwarfing his arms, like he was a criminal or a traitor.

He didn’t struggle at first.  He just stared ahead.  He could only feel the pressure of the brutes’ paws around his arms, strong enough to break each one with the tiniest of twitches.  He had been here before, felt the cold, unrelenting grip, felt the toes of his sneakers drag and catch on stone.  He knew what came after.

Cages that shocked, near-starvation, pain and beatings and abuse and fear and darkness and fighting, again and again, exhausted, dying, please no, not again!

And then he was fighting, thrashing and bucking and very nearly wrenching his arms out of their sockets in the process.  If the trolls holding him had fought against him, he might not even have arms anymore.  And yet he still struggled, needing to get away, to be free, no more hands touching him, grabbing him, throwing him, no more bars or cages or prisons, please - 

And then he was airborne, having been tossed like a bag of dirty laundry by the trolls flanking him, and his armor clanged as he hit the back of a cage in Trollmarket’s prison.  Not even registering the pain in his arms or head, he lunged to his feet, metal boots slipping slightly on the slick floor of the cage, escape his only thought, his only goal, he could figure the rest out later.  

With a jarring ring of metal on metal, the cage door slammed shut in his face, and he fell back, balance askew, as the cage was pulled up by a heavy chain, almost to the ceiling, before being tied off.  He hung there, barely able to comprehend the swaying of his claustrophobic prison, only seeing the bars and still feeling the great hands on his arms and flashing between the small metal cage and a damp, cold cell with glowing orange bars.  He tried to fight off the panic, but it already had him in its crushing grip, weighing down on his chest so heavily that he fought for breath.  Why did this keep happening to him?  Didn’t they know, couldn’t they tell, that he didn’t want to be here?  

Jim curled in on himself as much as his armor would allow, resting his chin on the hard, cool plates on his knees.  He tried to ground himself, remind himself that this wasn’t the Darklands, that he wasn’t in the hands of Gunmar, and even if Usurna did plan on executing him like he’d vaguely heard her say as he was lifted higher and higher, surely she would maintain order and keep him safe throughout the trial.  Her guards wouldn’t throw him around like Gunmar’s had.  And his friends would flatten anyone who tried.

His friends…

Slowly, with great effort, Jim began the arduous, perilous climb out of his own mind, flinching at the nightmares bleeding through the cracks, reaching out their dark tendrils and trying to drag him back down.

When Jim finally opened his eyes and lifted his head, it was to see that he was alone, save for the other trolls in prison, eyeing him curiously.  Jim’s breath caught in his throat - where were they?  How could they leave him here, like this?  Alone, in a cage, caught between the present and the past and not wanting to be a part of either.  

He couldn’t know that while he had been fighting to wrest control of himself, battling the delirious fog of memories, that his friends had been forcibly herded out of the room by Usurna and Vendel - Usurna because she was determined to keep a tight hold over things until the details of the trial could be sorted, and Vendel because he knew showing favoritism would only cost the Trollhunter more in the long run.

If Jim were in his right mind, fully in this world and not limping with one foot in the Darklands, he wouldn’t have thought for a moment that his friends would have willingly abandoned him.  After all, they’d stuck by him at his very worst, when he’d all but lost himself and almost didn’t find his way back.  They’d proven they’d do anything for him, even when he messed up.  So they wouldn’t abandon him now.

But Jim wasn’t in his right mind.

He was terrified, in a limbo of things that had already happened and that he wanted nothing more than to forget and things that were happening now that had brought the past out of hiding.  He wanted nothing more than to go home, to hug his mom and curl up under his blankets with his walkie-talkie and joke around with Toby until late in the night, to read comics and daydream about Claire and watch Gun Robot.  He was angry, and hurt, and not sure what was real anymore.  The bars of the cage loomed all around him, and were they getting closer?  Were they glowing orange?

Trembling, his chest heaving with the effort it took to draw in a breath, hands and feet tingling like he’d been sitting on them all day, a high ringing in his ears and his stomach curdling like he’d just finished a glass of year-old milk, Jim folded in on himself and gave in to the darkness that was calling him, praying that sleep would come, or death, he didn’t care which at this point and it felt like he was dying anyway…

He woke up screaming.  A series of clangs rent the air and ricocheted off the walls of the underground prison as his cries startled his fellow prisoners awake, and the sounds and grumbles and growls of, Keep it down, jeez almost sent Jim into another panic attack.

But his mind was a little clearer with sleep, and he sat up from where he’d been slumped, half against the floor of the cage and half against the bars.  His pulse still seemed to rattle his bones, and his muscles were tense and sore - from being manhandled, but also from the intense desire to move, to run, even though there was nowhere to run to.

The nightmares had brought him perfect clarity.  He realized that he had never asked for any of this: not the amulet, not the role of Trollhunter, not the constant danger he put himself in, not the pain or the trauma of the Darklands, even if he had gone in of his own free will, and not this.

Well, he’d had it.  He was done.  He’d put everything on the line, gone through the unspeakable, been hurt again and again, had brought back Claire’s brother, had saved his friends and Arcadia and Trollmarket more times than he could count… and where had it gotten him?

Caged like an animal, no escape, almost certainly awaiting an unpleasant death, abandoned by his friends, left alone in the dark.

He only hesitated for a fraction of a second before removing the amulet and feeling his armor peel away, leaving him small and vulnerable.  There had been good times.  Surely his friends hadn’t meant to leave him like this, all alone.  Probably they had no choice.  And often he had enjoyed being the Trollhunter.  It had given him a sense of purpose, more friends than he’d ever had before, the knowledge that he was truly making a difference.

The moment of uncertainty retreated as quickly as it had encroached, and he flung the amulet through the bars of the cage, as far from his body as he could, both dreading and anticipating the moment when it would fly back to him. 

He’d never had any choice.

His skin was crawling as the amulet materialized in his hands once more.  He wanted to climb out of his own skin, ram himself into the bars of the cage until he somehow broke through or collapsed into a bloody pulp onto the floor.  He just needed to get away.

And so, when a disembodied voice spoke out of the amulet and introduced itself as Unkar the Unfortunate and offered to take him on an It’s a Wonderful Life-themed ride through his own life, Jim didn’t even pause to think.  It didn’t matter that the goal of this out-of-body expedition was obviously to get him to rethink his decision about being the Trollhunter.  

He would take anything he could get, anything at all, as long as it got him out of this cage.  And so he went, not expecting anything to change, fully intending to stand by his choice to stop being the Trollhunter, and truly believing that nothing he saw would convince him otherwise. 

And if he was wrong, then he would just die as the Trollhunter instead of plain old Jim Lake.  Either way, he thought miserably, he’d be afraid and alone.

He closed his eyes and gratefully let the amulet take him.

[readbookywooks]

Tyrion

Pod dressed him for his ordeal in a plush velvet tunic of Lannister crimson and brought him his chain of office. Tyrion left it on the bedside table. His sister misliked being reminded that he was the King's Hand, and he did not wish to inflame the relations between them any further.

Varys caught up with him as he was crossing the yard. "My lord," he said, a little out of breath. "You had best read this at once." He held out a parchment in a soft white hand. "A report from the north."

"Good news or bad?" Tyrion asked.

"That is not for me to judge."

Tyrion unrolled the parchment. He had to squint to read the words in the torchlit yard. "Gods be good," he said softly. "Both of them?"

"I fear so, my lord. It is so sad. So grievous sad. And them so young and innocent."

Tyrion remembered how the wolves had howled when the Stark boy had fallen. Are they howling now, I wonder? "Have you told anyone else?" he asked.

"Not as yet, though of course I must."

He rolled up the letter. "I'll tell my sister." He wanted to see how she took the news. He wanted that very much.

The queen looked especially lovely that night. She wore a low-cut gown of deep green velvet that brought out the color of her eyes. Her golden hair tumbled across her bare shoulders, and around her waist was a woven belt studded with emeralds. Tyrion waited until he had been seated and served a cup of wine before thrusting the letter at her. He said not a word. Cersei blinked at him innocently and took the parchment from his hand.

"I trust you're pleased," he said as she read. "You wanted the Stark boy dead, I believe."

Cersei made a sour face. "It was Jaime who threw him from that window, not me. For love, he said, as if that would please me. It was a stupid thing to do, and dangerous besides, but when did our sweet brother ever stop to think?"

"The boy saw you," Tyrion pointed out.

"He was a child. I could have frightened him into silence." She looked at the letter thoughtfully. "Why must I suffer accusations every time some Stark stubs his toe? This was Greyjoy's work, I had nothing to do with it."

"Let us hope Lady Catelyn believes that."

Her eyes widened. "She wouldn't—"

"—kill Jaime? Why not? What would you do if Joffrey and Tommen were murdered?"

"I still hold Sansa!" the queen declared.

"We still hold Sansa," he corrected her, "and we had best take good care of her. Now where is this supper you've promised me, sweet sister?"

Cersei set a tasty table, that could not be denied. They started with a creamy chestnut soup, crusty hot bread, and greens dressed with apples and pine nuts. Then came lamprey pie, honeyed ham, buttered carrots, white beans and bacon, and roast swan stuffed with mushrooms and oysters. Tyrion was exceedingly courteous; he offered his sister the choice portions of every dish, and made certain he ate only what she did. Not that he truly thought she'd poison him, but it never hurt to be careful.

The news about the Starks had soured her, he could see. "We've had no word from Bitterbridge?" she asked anxiously as she speared a bit of apple on the point of her dagger and ate it with small, delicate bites.

"None."

"I've never trusted Littlefinger. For enough coin, he'd go over to Stannis in a heartbeat."

"Stannis Baratheon is too bloody righteous to buy men. Nor would he make a comfortable lord for the likes of Petyr. This war has made for some queer bedfellows, I agree, but those two? No."

As he carved some slices off the ham, she said, "We have Lady Tanda to thank for the pig."

"A token of her love?"

"A bribe. She begs leave to return to her castle. Your leave as well as mine. I suspect she fears you'll arrest her on the road, as you did Lord Gyles."

"Does she plan to make off with the heir to the throne?" Tyrion served his sister a cut of ham and took one for himself. "I'd sooner she remain. If she wants to feel safe, tell her to bring down her garrison from Stokeworth. As many men as she has."

"If we need men so badly, why did you send away your savages?" A certain testiness crept into Cersei's voice.

"It was the best use I could have made of them," he told her truthfully. "They're fierce warriors, but not soldiers. In formal battle, discipline is more important than courage. They've already done us more good in the kingswood than they would ever have done us on the city walls."

As the swan was being served, the queen questioned him about the conspiracy of the Antler Men. She seemed more annoyed than afraid. "Why are we plagued with so many treasons? What injury has House Lannister ever done these wretches?"

"None," said Tyrion, "but they think to be on the winning side . . . which makes them fools as well as traitors."

"Are you certain you've found them all?"

"Varys says so." The swan was too rich for his taste.

A line appeared on Cersei's pale white brow, between those lovely eyes. "You put too much trust in that eunuch."

"He serves me well."

"Or so he'd have you believe. You think you're the only one he whispers secrets to? He gives each of us just enough to convince us that we'd be helpless without him. He played the same game with me, when I first wed Robert. For years, I was convinced I had no truer friend at court, but now . . . " She studied his face for a moment. "He says you mean to take the Hound from Joffrey."

Damn Varys. "I need Clegane for more important duties."

"Nothing is more important than the life of the king."

"The life of the king is not at risk. Joff will have brave Ser Osmund guarding him, and Meryn Trant as well." They're good for nothing better. "I need Balon Swann and the Hound to lead sorties, to make certain Stannis gets no toehold on our side of the Blackwater."

"Jaime would lead the sorties himself."

"From Riverrun? That's quite a sortie."

"Joff's only a boy."

"A boy who wants to be part of this battle, and for once he's showing some sense. I don't intend to put him in the thick of the fighting, but he needs to be seen. Men fight more fiercely for a king who shares their peril than one who hides behind his mother's skirts."

"He's thirteen, Tyrion."

"Remember Jaime at thirteen? If you want the boy to be his father's son, let him play the part. Joff wears the finest armor gold can buy, and he'll have a dozen gold cloaks around him at all times. If the city looks to be in the least danger of falling, I'll have him escorted back to the Red Keep at once."

He had thought that might reassure her, but he saw no sign of pleasure in those green eyes. "Will the city fall?"

"No." But if it does, pray that we can hold the Red Keep long enough for our lord father to march to our relief.

"You've lied to me before, Tyrion."

"Always with good reason, sweet sister. I want amity between us as much as you do. I've decided to release Lord Gyles." He had kept Gyles safe for just this gesture. "You can have Ser Boros Blount back as well."

The queen's mouth tightened. "Ser Boros can rot at Rosby," she said, "but Tommen—"

"—stays where he is. He's safer under Lord Jacelyn's protection than he would ever have been with Lord Gyles."

Serving men cleared away the swan, hardly touched. Cersei beckoned for the sweet. "I hope you like blackberry tarts."

"I love all sorts of tarts."

"Oh, I've known that a long while. Do you know why Varys is so dangerous?"

"Are we playing at riddles now? No."

"He doesn't have a cock."

"Neither do you." And don't you just hate that, Cersei?

"Perhaps I'm dangerous too. You, on the other hand, are as big a fool as every other man. That worm between your legs does half your thinking."

Tyrion licked the crumbs off his fingers. He did not like his sister's smile. "Yes, and just now my worm is thinking that perhaps it is time I took my leave."

"Are you unwell, brother?" She leaned forward, giving him a good look at the top of her breasts. "Suddenly you appear somewhat flustered."

"Flustered?" Tyrion glanced at the door. He thought he'd heard something outside. He was beginning to regret coming here alone. "You've never shown much interest in my cock before."

"It's not your cock that interests me, so much as what you stick it in. I don't depend on the eunuch for everything, as you do. I have my own ways of finding out things . . . especially things that people don't want me to know."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Only this—I have your little whore."

Tyrion reached for his wine cup, buying a moment to gather his thoughts. "I thought men were more to your taste."

"You're such a droll little fellow. Tell me, have you married this one yet?" When he gave her no answer she laughed and said, "Father will be ever so relieved."

His belly felt as if it were full of eels. How had she found Shae? Had Varys betrayed him? Or had all his precautions been undone by his impatience the night he rode directly to the manse? "Why should you care who I choose to warm my bed?"

"A Lannister always pays his debts," she said. "You've been scheming against me since the day you came to King's Landing. You sold Myrcella, stole Tommen, and now you plot to have Joff killed. You want him dead so you can rule through Tommen."

Well, I can't say the notion isn't tempting. "This is madness, Cersei. Stannis will be here in days. You need me."

"For what? Your great prowess in battle?"

"Bronn's sellswords will never fight without me," he lied.

"Oh, I think they will. It's your gold they love, not your impish wit. Have no fear, though, they won't be without you. I won't say I haven't thought of slitting your throat from time to time, but Jaime would never forgive me if I did."

"And the whore?" He would not call her by name. If I can convince her Shae means nothing to me, perhaps . . .

"She'll be treated gently enough, so long as no harm comes to my sons. If Joff should be killed, however, or if Tommen should fall into the hands of our enemies, your little cunt will die more painfully than you can possibly imagine."

She truly believes I mean to kill my own nephew. "The boys are safe," he promised her wearily. "Gods be good, Cersei, they're my own blood! What sort of man do you take me for?"

"A small and twisted one."

Tyrion stared at the dregs on the bottom of his wine cup. What would Jaime do in my place? Kill the bitch, most likely, and worry about the consequences afterward. But Tyrion did not have a golden sword, nor the skill to wield one. He loved his brother's reckless wrath, but it was their lord father he must try and emulate. Stone, I must be stone, I must be Casterly Rock, hard and unmovable. If I fail this test, I had as lief seek out the nearest grotesquerie. "For all I know, you've killed her already," he said.

"Would you like to see her? I thought you might." Cersei crossed the room and threw open the heavy oaken door. "Bring in my brother's whore."

Ser Osmund's brothers Osney and Osfryd were peas from the same pod, tall men with hooked noses, dark hair, and cruel smiles. She hung between them, eyes wide and white in her dark face. Blood trickled from her broken lip, and he could see bruises through her torn clothing. Her hands were bound with rope, and they'd gagged her so she could not speak.

"You said she wouldn't be hurt."

"She fought." Unlike his brothers, Osney Kettleblack was clean-shaven, so the scratches showed plainly on his bare cheeks. "Got claws like a shadowcat, this one."

"Bruises heal," said Cersei in a bored tone. "The whore will live. So long as Joff does."

Tyrion wanted to laugh at her. It would have been so sweet, so very very sweet, but it would have given the game away. You've lost, Cersei, and the Kettleblacks are even bigger fools than Bronn claimed. All he needed to do was say the words.

Instead he looked at the girl's face and said, "You swear you'll release her after the battle?"

"If you release Tommen, yes."

He pushed himself to his feet. "Keep her then, but keep her safe. If these animals think they can use her . . . well, sweet sister, let me point out that a scale tips two ways." His tone was calm, flat, uncaring; he'd reached for his father's voice, and found it. "Whatever happens to her happens to Tommen as well, and that includes the beatings and rapes." If she thinks me such a monster, I'll play the part for her.

Cersei had not expected that. "You would not dare."

Tyrion made himself smile, slow and cold. Green and black, his eyes laughed at her. "Dare? I'll do it myself."

His sister's hand flashed at his face, but he caught her wrist and bent it back until she cried out. Osfryd moved to her rescue. "One more step and I'll break her arm," the dwarf warned him. The man stopped. "You remember when I said you'd never hit me again, Cersei?" He shoved her to the floor and turned back to the Kettleblacks. "Untie her and remove that gag."

The rope had been so tight as to cut off the blood to her hands. She cried out in pain as the circulation returned. Tyrion massaged her fingers gently until feeling returned. "Sweetling," he said, "you must be brave. I am sorry they hurt you."

"I know you'll free me, my lord."

"I will," he promised, and Alayaya bent over and kissed him on the brow. Her broken lips left a smear of blood on his forehead. A bloody kiss is more than I deserve, Tyrion thought. She would never have been hurt but for me.

Her blood still marked him as he looked down at the queen. "I have never liked you, Cersei, but you were my own sister, so I never did you harm. You've ended that. I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid." In war, his father had told him once, the battle is over in the instant one army breaks and flees. No matter that they're as numerous as they were a moment before, still armed and armored; once they had run before you they would not turn to fight again. So it was with Cersei. "Get out!" was all the answer she could summon. "Get out of my sight!"

Tyrion bowed. "Good night, then. And pleasant dreams."

He made his way back to the Tower of the Hand with a thousand armored feet marching through his skull. I ought to have seen this coming the first time I slipped through the back of Chataya's wardrobe. Perhaps he had not wanted to see. His legs were aching badly by the time he had made the climb. He sent Pod for a flagon of wine and pushed his way into his bedchamber.

Shae sat cross-legged in the canopied bed, nude but for the heavy golden chain that looped across the swell of her breasts: a chain of linked golden hands, each clasping the next.

Tyrion had not expected her. "What are you doing here?"

Laughing, she stroked the chain. "I wanted some hands on my titties . . . but these little gold ones are cold."

For a moment he did know what to say. How could he tell her that another woman had taken the beating meant for her, and might well die in her place should some mischance of battle fell Joffrey? He wiped Alayaya's blood from his brow with the heel of his hand. "The Lady Lollys—"

"She's asleep. Sleep's all she ever wants to do, the great cow. She sleeps and she eats. Sometimes she falls asleep while she's eating. The food falls under the blankets and she rolls in it, and I have to clean her." She made a disgusted face. "All they did was fuck her."

"Her mother says she's sick."

"She has a baby in her belly, that's all."

Tyrion gazed around the room. Everything seemed much as he left it. "How did you enter? Show me the hidden door."

She gave a shrug. "Lord Varys made me wear a hood. I couldn't see, except . . . there was one place, I got a peep at the floor out the bottom of the hood. It was all tiles, you know, the kind that make a picture?"

"A mosaic?"

Shae nodded. "They were colored red and black. I think the picture was a dragon. Otherwise, everything was dark. We went down a ladder and walked a long ways, until I was all twisted around. Once we stopped so he could unlock an iron gate. I brushed against it when we went through. The dragon was past the gate. Then we went up another ladder, with a tunnel at the top. I had to stoop, and I think Lord Varys was crawling."

Tyrion made a round of the bedchamber. One of the sconces looked loose. He stood on his toes and tried to turn it. It revolved slowly, scraping against the stone wall. When it was upside down, the stub of the candle fell out. The rushes scattered across the cold stone floor did not show any particular disturbance. "Doesn't m'lord want to bed me?" asked Shae.

"In a moment." Tyrion threw open his wardrobe, shoved the clothing aside, and pushed against the rear panel. What worked for a whorehouse might work for a castle as well . . . but no, the wood was solid, unyielding. A stone beside the window seat drew his eye, but all his tugging and prodding went for naught. He returned to the bed frustrated and annoyed.

Shae undid his laces and threw her arms around his neck. "Your shoulders feel as hard as rocks," she murmured. "Hurry, I want to feel you inside me." Yet as her legs locked around his waist, his manhood left him. When she felt him go soft, Shae slid down under the sheets and took him in her mouth, but even that could not rouse him.

After a few moments he stopped her. "What's wrong?" she asked. All the sweet innocence of the world was written there in the lines of her young face.

Innocence? Fool, she's a whore, Cersei was right, you think with your cock, fool, fool.

"Just go to sleep, sweetling," he urged, stroking her hair. Yet long after Shae had taken his advice, Tyrion himself still lay awake, his fingers cupped over one small breast as he listened to her breathing.