#i feel like i talk too much ab valkyrie that i never get to talking ab the others who make me mentally ill

[mishkakagehishka]

Do you guys undeestand how much i love kuro btw

[writer-monster]

11 reasons why cap 4 should reintroduce Bucky Barnes as the love interest, an essay

to start this off, i am not writing this essay from a shipping place nor do i believe that this would have any influence at all over the upcoming movie. i expect nothing. this is simply something that i would personally like to see. (of course no hate to anybody who thinks differently)

here are 11 reasons why i think making Bucky into Sam Wilson's love interest in Cap 4 would be a good move for Disney.

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1. on the Chinese film market - and why it's an irrelevant argument against the inclusion of homosexual themes in Cap 4

the Chinese film market is something that has been blamed for a lack of diversity in Hollywood films a lot lately. many people claim that this market with a lot of buying power has been responsible for the lack of gay and black representation in particular within Hollywood films.

and we have certainly seen Hollywood treating it as such, going so far as to cut gay scenes from movies for their Chinese releases, and vastly minimising John Boyega's (a black actor's) presence in the Chinese poster of Star Wars The Force Awakens.

[image ID: on the left is an image of the American poster for Star Wars The Force Awakens, featuring John Boyega prominently on the right-hand side. And on the right is the Chinese poster for the same movie, in which John Boyega is barely visible.]

so we know at the very least that Disney believes this through their own actions and efforts to self-censor for the different markets.

but Captain America 4 is a black-led movie, don't you forget. and Disney can't minimise Sam Wilson/Anthony Mackie in the movie or the poster because it's his movie and his poster. and no amount of creativity in the editing room can change that (thank God!).

so if by their own argument the film is already going to be either banned, panned or slammed in China... then what do they have to fear from making it a gay movie too?

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2. oh, the queerbaiting

queerbaiting is an unusual cultural idea. and sometimes i find myself thinking that the term is far too easily used, but then all of a sudden i will stumble upon a movie or show that is so quintessentially cruel and overt in it's... well... queerbaiting that i will start to wonder what the hell kind of a bizarre relationship all these straight people seem to have with their friends. take Troy and Abed from Community or John and Sherlock from Sherlock as the perfect examples of this. (in which my reaction to the show's creators saying the show wasn't gay was to ask so then why did you make it so gay?!)

i felt that Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes in tfatws were getting quite close to this level of queerbaiting.

there was the field scene, the couple's counselling scene, the boat scene, the couple's counselling scene, Bucky going with Sam to face Karli when she told Sam to come alone, the couple's counselling scene, ALL the staring scenes, Sam checking out Bucky's ass here as they said goodbye, the "i would move in with him but" hidden scene, "Uncle Bucky" showing up at the cookout scene, the romantic walking off together into the sunset together ending scene, and the couple's counselling scene. did i forget anything? but i mean seriously, the couple's counselling scene!!! that thing they did with their legs and their crotches while staring deep into each other's eyes, would any straight guy willingly do that? do straight guys crotch-snuggle now?

[image ID: an image of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes during the therapy scene with the quote, "Isn't anybody going to drag me into impromptu couple's therapy and slot my legs firmly between theirs before staring deeply into my eyes?"]

(yeah i stole this image from a buzzfeed article on the fan reactions to the couple's therapy scene. but given that they stole 80% of the content of that article from fandom tumblr, i think it's pretty even-steven.)

there's also the fact that people started talking about bisexual Bucky Barnes a lot after the tiger pictures line, and the lead writer Malcom Spellman responded to the talk of Bucky's bisexuality with "just keep watching". well we watched, Malcolm. but it's beginning to feel like you were just jerking us around.

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3. the writing

seriously though, what else is Bucky Barnes doing right now in the MCU? his only remaining connection to anything going on right now is through Sam. there is literally nothing else established that's left for him to do that doesn't involve Sam. he moved to Louisiana to be closer to Sam (canonically), he hangs out with Sam's family (canonically), and Steve is presumably gone and is definitely not coming back for more adventures.

he has no villains or loose ends left. he has no other superheroes that he appears to be in contact with. he has no girlfriend or potential love interest, or even other friends or family. he is living in a tent that he has secretly set up in Sam's backyard and is mysteriously appearing from the bushes when it's time for dinner like a stray cat.

in my opinion there is no other meaningful and pre-established progression for Bucky's character that wouldn't just feel cheap.

plus, i don't think the general audience would be all that surprised if they kissed. i think a LOT of people picked up on all that tension. i think a lot of straight people picked up on all that tension too.

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4. the chemistry between the actors & the chemistry between the characters

the original pitch for tfatws was essentially just this, it was the chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie and their respective MCU characters of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.

now obviously Anthony and Sebastian are simply friends, and i wouldn't mean to imply anything more. but they are also not their characters.

Sam and Bucky's scenes together before tfatws were both limited and short, and yet audiences still fell in love with the dynamic between the two characters.

in interviews, these two actors are constantly slipping into character and flirting with each other and frankly it's adorable. plus it's really entertaining. i'd love to see that dynamic, unfiltered, in a movie.

because believe it or not the flirting is actually even more open in their interviews than it was in tfatws. and i'm leaving some links as proof.

this here is known as the "married" compilation

and here's a "lucky dip" selection of interviews - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

and here's Anthony trying to get Seb to take his jacket off.

i'm just saying, why not let their chemistry shine? these two are so talented and so entertaining, especially when you put them in a room together. and can you imagine how absolutely hilarious and brilliant it would be to watch them navigate being a couple?

(and for those who bring up the "friends would be uncomfortable pretending to be dating" argument, i'm not here asking for a sex scene or anything. i don't think anyone would expect them to show any more intimacy (physical or emotional) while playing a couple than what they've already shown together in say... tfatws or in their own interviews. not that i actually expect anything regardless.)

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5. if they were a man and a woman they would've gotten together in tfatws

i have no more to add here. just that... yeah, they would've.

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6. and i'm not talking about the comics here, i'm talking about the MCU.

i understand fully that none of what i'm saying here falls in line with these characters from the comics. but the mcu itself doesn't fall much in line with the comics either, and these two characters especially are very different from their comics counterparts.

i'm not asking for these two to get together in the comics. tbh i don't think that it would work.

but the mcu Sam and Bucky are different and closer than their comics counterparts. they've got different histories, different backstories, and a very different dynamic. please rest assured that i am only talking about them in the mcu.

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7. Bucky Barnes is believably bisexual. and Sam Wilson has never been proven to be straight in the mcu, nor has he had a love interest.

(now please continue to keep in mind that these points only stand for the mcu versions of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, and not at all for their comics counterparts.)

Sam Wilson has never had a love interest, which is crazy because have you seen that man! he has had two blink and you'll miss it moments of verbal expression of attraction to women, both in TWS. and that's the extent of it, through his entire history in the mcu.

Bucky Barnes has had a number of surface-level female love interests, but none of them even came close to the level of connection and chemistry that Bucky shares with Sam.

and i'm sorry SarahBucky fans, but i just don't think there's very much to their relationship either. i love Sarah, i really do. but it's Sam who shares all the meaningful moments and history and chemistry with Bucky. and i don't see what making her into a love interest would do for Sarah's character either, what would that add to her story?

[Picture ID: Bucky at the cookout with Sam, Sarah, Cass and AJ. Bucky and Sam are looking at each other and smiling.]

and also there is the whole tiger pictures thing... again. which does strongly suggest that Bucky is bisexual whether this was intentional on behalf of the writers or not.

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8. it's representation... AND it feels natural

marvel hasn't had a lot of queer representation that's been noticeably present in the MCU at the time of writing this.

there have been a lot of failures so far, from the bisexual erasure of Valkyrie in Thor Ragnarok to the wlw erasure in Black Panther.

there was queerbaiting almost identical to the bisexual Bucky baiting for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. when asked if he had considered featuring a gay hero in gotg2, director James Gunn stated that "We might have already done that. I say, watch the movie." after the movie's release audiences were understandably confused about the lack of queer representation. To which the director followed up his comments with, "But we don't really know who's gay and who's not. It could be any of them."

there is also Loki, considered by most fans after the airing of his six episode series on Disney+ to be both a poor attempt at both genderfluid representation and bisexual representation. with both attempts being summed up fairly well by the term "blink-and-you'll-miss-it". (also it's just terribly written and Loki doesn't wear any interesting clothes! fanficcers are a Goddamn blessing in this hard time!)

and let us not forget that Andrew Garfield was apparently FIRED for pushing for a bisexual spiderman. a bisexual spiderman within an interracial mlm relationship no less.

so for all these failures, marvel, why not allow us queer fans this? two brilliant and heroic men in a loving interracial relationship. two heroes that we can look up to.

now, one of the biggest detractions from the argument for representation is the idea of "forced diversity". and some poorly written characters certainly do end up feeling forced into the narrative. take Iceman in the comics for example, with Jean Grey just straight up suddenly telling him he's gay. like, marvel, sweetie, that's not how this works! and i don't know a lot of queer people who thought much of that "representation".

but the crux of the "forced diversity" argument is almost always that it feels unnatural within the story, right? and i don't think that anyone could say that about MCU Sam and Bucky ending up together, given these characters' existing chemistry and their history. they've both played characters in gay relationships before so we know that it's not outside of either actor's wheelhouse. and y'all know that Anthony and Seb can act, people. if it's in the script i believe that they'll make it seem like the most natural thing on earth.

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9. it'd be a nice change

there's been an ongoing meme lately about "Disney's first gay character", the joke being that they continually announce gay characters without really ever including gay characters in their films.

this is to the point where Disney has formed a reputation amongst queer audiences of being homophobic.

if Sam and Bucky were to become a couple, then Disney could have its first actual gay character within a gay relationship. AND have him be in the lead of his own movie, no less.

it's also worth keeping in mind that there's likely an overlap between the people who were outraged by a Sam Wilson Captain America, and the people who'd be outraged by a gay Captain America. and if they were already not seeing the film, then i don't think much is gonna change that.

queer audiences would definitely love it, and the media attention would be guaranteed to be huge. i mean, simply look at the amount of media attention mere rumours of a character's queerness gets you and multiply that by a canon confirmation of said rumours.

but i'm pretty sure that Disney already knows this.

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10. and yet, in truth, it's not about the representation

in truth i've never felt that i had any trouble relating to characters of any sexual orientation, race, gender, sex, body type, etc. (although that is not to throw any shade at all on people who do wish to see themselves represented) but for me, i think it's more about the story than the packaging.

and yet, a love story is still just a story. straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial. when two characters have chemistry and history and have sacrificed for each other time and time again, and they also can't keep their hands or their eyes off each other, then i'm pretty sure that that's a love story.

straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial, it shouldn't be about these simple labels. it should be about how well written the relationship is. it should be about chemistry, and history, and sacrifice.

because i'm fucking sick of all the hollow, forced romances in media no matter the genders of the participants. i'm sick of lazily written, shallow relationships where any two people sharing the same space for any extended period of time will simply fall in love. it's boring, it's repetitive, and as a writer myself it drives me up the wall!

romance stories suck! and everyone knows that romance stories suck. between twilight, and most of the entire YA genre, and love triangles (so boring), and romance used as poorly-written throwaway subplots in Hollywood movies, the world is in agreement that the romance in western media is simply dreadful. and yet we still want love stories. it's an entire genre that sits at the heart of the human experience (<3), and yet one which so few of today's best known writers seem truly able to capture.

i don't think that i'm the only one who feels this way, either. i suspect it's actually a large part of why fandom is so romance-centred in the first place, that we're all just starving for a good love story.

(btw i think fandom has a reputation for being something that as a whole that it is not. it has this reputation for straight up demanding things and harassing people until they get their way. while unfortunately there are a few people who do this, they're fucking annoying and i swear that they're far from the majority.

in my experience fandom is mostly about writing a five thousand word story at three am while drunk off your ass because it might make someone whom you've never met smile, editing it in the cold light of day, and then posting it. expecting nothing. sometimes getting nothing. and sometimes getting someone send you kudos or a comment so heartbreakingly wonderful that it makes you smile in return.)

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11. so once again, it is all about the writing.

i want to see Sam and Bucky get together in the mcu, not because they would be a gay couple but because i genuinely believe that their story has potential to be an amazing love story.

and i know the mcu isn't about the romance. it's why in my personal opinion we haven't gotten a lot of good canon romances besides Peter Quill and Gamora. and i don't think that the mcu should be all about the romance either. i fucking love the action and the fighting scenes. i love the comedy. Captain America: The Winter Soldier had no romance and it was a fucking treasure, it was an amazing spy-action-thriller and it made my little gay heart dance. Thor Ragnarok had no romance, and it was an utterly brilliant comedic spectacle action film. not every movie needs romance.

but mcu Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were doing couple's therapy and fixing a boat and walking off into the sunset together in tfatws. they were inseparable on the battlefield. they've got a dynamic. it's beautiful, it's romantic, and it's gold.

a budding relationship between them in the next movie would be a good way to explore both characters more without the narrative feeling too stilted and separate. at the end of tfatws, both Sam and Bucky fans found that their respective fave felt somewhat underutilised and that their characters were underexplored.

now, that problem would be even more difficult to remedy in a movie, because the plotline of a movie needs to be really tight to work (giggity). and we know that the central conflict of the movie is gonna be action-based (which is good), but we still need each character's personal journey and growth to tie into the main conflict. (which is another issue that some fans found with tfatws, that these characters didn't really feel connected to the action-based plot on a more personal level.)

if Sam and Bucky are already in a relationship, however, this whole dynamic changes. first, their relationship has already been set up for nicely since TWS and through tfatws and they would officially be the best-fleshed-out couple in the mcu. but most importantly, a relationship gives them a perfect vehicle to explore both of their pasts comparatively and connect them personally to the action-based plot.

do you want to establish that Sam is a little too trusting and naïve? then establish this through his relationship with Bucky, and through showing his placing his trust in Bucky. (rather than through having him sympathise with a villain who threatened to murder his sister and his nephews).

perhaps you want to show Bucky recovering from his trauma? show us how comfortable he is with Sam. they get along, they're enjoying each other's presence, we see more of Sam's life and of his family, and then let Bucky tell Sam something that's raw and dark and honest about his life as The Winter Soldier. something about a memory, one that he only just recalled. he's opening up. and maybe what he tells Sam is even something that sets up the future action-based conflict, to ground that in something real.

you want to explore that Sam has trauma too? do this through Bucky. he tells Bucky a story about his time in the military. in the form of a flashback, he shares his own story of loss to evoke before the audience the shared theme of feeling at fault even when you're simply a helpless bystander to an act of pure destruction.

then, action sequence! and it's directly connected to Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier. explore the grief of someone whose life the Winter Soldier tore apart manifesting into a villain perpetuating the cycle of pain. establish your villain.

Later, Sam is dragged into battle against this villain for protecting Bucky. But Bucky doesn't want Sam to protect him. He feels guilt for what he can't control and he doesn't want Sam getting hurt because of him. Bucky reminds Sam that he has a family, one who needs him and who loves him. He tells him to go home.

Sam reminds Bucky that he's a part of that family. And that sure Sam's a hero and his job is to protect anyone and everyone, but that he's doing it because he wants to. It's not simply to prove that he can, or to prove that he's not a bystander (this connects to Sam's trauma here), but that he's doing it to help people.

and this gets Bucky thinking about who he is and what he's doing here. is he a hero who stands by Sam's side? or is he an ordinary man who stands aside? or perhaps, does he stand alone? what does he stand for? Maybe Sam knows. But does Bucky?

Sam and Bucky fight off the villain again, and for the first time Bucky meets this adversary face to face. And Bucky recognises this villain, and has a flashback to the genuine pain that he inflicted upon them in the form of the Winter Soldier. Bucky freezes mid-fight, he almost dies, and Sam has to save him.

Sam chews Bucky out for almost getting killed because he was afraid for him. but Bucky takes this the wrong way and goes off to fight the villain alone, or perhaps to die alone, he's not quite sure.

He puts up a half-hearted fight. He apologises for what the Winter Soldier has done, and he waits for the killing blow, when Sam swoops down and he saves him. He asks Sam why he saved him and Sam calls him a moron. And then, Sam asks him what sacrificing himself would solve. He tells him that you can't choose your past but you can choose your future (connecting to his own experience of loss and guilt and grief). And that no matter what Bucky Barnes still has a future, whether that's as the Winter Soldier or the White Wolf or just some dork with a day job. And that he has a future as a part of Sam's family too.

Sam fights the villain, and it's toe to toe. He delivers a few good blows, but receives a fair few himself. And then the villain tears off his wings, first one and then the other, in a manner reminiscent of what the Winter Soldier did to him in TWS. Through Bucky's eyes there's a flashback to highlight the parallels. Sam gets back on his feet and he fights his best fight, but is now losing.

And then the heavily injured Bucky steps up and fights by Sam's side, and only together do they take down the villain.

"So... I inspired you, huh?" Sam teases with a smile, utterly exhausted. "With my heroism and-"

"You inspired me." Bucky said, equally exhausted. "Let's leave it at that."

Together, Sam and Bucky go back to the safety and warmth of their family. Sam fixes his wings. Sam goes back to being Captain America. And Bucky... he's around, but it's unclear what he's doing.

That is, until the very end. When Sam is in a fight, and suddenly Bucky shows up and helps him out.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks.

"I've made up my mind." Bucky says. "I'm the Winter Soldier. But now I'll save lives, Sam. Now, like you, I'll be a hero."

Sam smirks. "So does this make you my sidekick, then?"

Bucky smiles. "C'mon, at least make me a partner." He says.

"How about co-workers." Sam says (in flashback, he remembers back to the death of his last on-the-job partner).

"How about friends." Bucky says, with a wry look.

"Bucky... I don't want to see you put your dumbass self in danger." Sam says.

"Oh, and it's ok for you to go running off into danger on your own all the time?" Bucky asks.

"Yes." Sam says stubbornly. "Absolutely it is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a dumbass?!"

"Sam, if you think I'm not gonna be watching your back for the rest of time... then you're the biggest dumbass I know. And I don't care if you need me or not, I will be there for you."

"Because Sam, you're more than Captain America. You're more than a good soldier. You're a good man. And I think sometimes, the world forgets what the difference is."

-

...or something like that.

(i only spent like 15 minutes on that. you know if i were actually writing this movie i would come up with something much better. and if anyone from marvel is seeing this, yes i can come work for you. i will make the time, let's do this thing right!)

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finale

at the end of the day, whether or not the mcu chooses to make Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes a couple, it's their decision. and they don't owe me anything.

i'm just some random person on the internet. who thinks that Captain America 4 should #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend

[moontours]

of all the mcu's ocs i think sylvie "laufey(s?)dottir" is the cringiest. a pity now we'll never see amora or even the actual sylvie since they butchered their characters to pick up the pieces and form this weird chimera. they did the same to angela -> 2017's hela. now we might get angela but she probably will have a reduced role and function as valkyrie's girlfriend as a "treat" from the oh so generous ally kevin feige. basically, cheryl and toni from riverdale season 2-4. i can only imagine how in hel they will balance thor odinson (who's still very much the official protagonist), jane's return as the mighty thor, valkyrie as king of new asgard + her wife. and don't even get me started on loki and sera.

OH I AGREE SO MUCH sylvie was so cringey and whiny i was literally embarrassed watching her. amora would've been so much better i think but now we'll never see her and i'm still literally still upset about what they did to angela too 😭😭no offense to taika!thor lovers but i have literally such low hopes for thor 4 and jane as thor bc like ... he literally doesnt care ab the comics at all like he said he picked up an issue hated the way they talked and said they werent going to do that 😭😭 also unpopular opinion but i miss shakespearean asgardians so much like it doesnt feel right that they dont talk like that anymore. it makes them more quirky i think. like w the loki show i think their conversations wouldve been more meaningful like aoa if they talked like thor 1 and tdw asgardians. but yeah i think with them leaning heavily on comedy for thor 4 i do not suspect a good balance at all 😭

[morwenna-crows]

Seasons of War: First Nine Chapters Preview

A new series of Seasons of War previews were released this morning - a prologue, and chapters 3 to 8, which follow on directly from the earlier two chapter preview. 

A table of contents was also released -  the book is 144 chapters total, split into Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. There are 32 chapters in Spring, 23 in Summer, 39 in Autumn, and 50 in Winter.

I’ve put the previews under the cut, enjoy!

And all was memory. The memory of gods and people. The memory of monsters. 

Prologue.

"I don't know who I am anymore.”

"OK."

"I thought I did. I was the good guy. I was descended from the Last of the Ancients. I saved the world."

"And what's changed?"

"You know what's changed."

"You think you're not the good guy?"

"I've got the blood of the Faceless Ones in my veins. How can I be the good guy when everything I've come from is murder and death and torture and hatred? You know the worst thing? It's how much sense it all makes now. Darquesse killing all those people? The reflection killing Crystal? Me killing Alice? Everyone I've hurt and all the terrible things I've done?"

"You're blaming your heritage for all that?"

"Oh, no. No, no. I'm blaming me. But I'm the way I am because of my blood."

"And what about Alice? Is she a bad guy, too?"

"She's eight."

"But you saw her in the future, about to face down her arch-enemy. Do you think she's the hero in that story, or the villain?"

"It doesn't matter. The future can be changed. I'm going to change it. Whatever road she's going down, I can head her off."

"How is she? Still crying herself to sleep?"

"Some nights. My folks took her to the child psychologist, who says it looks like repressed trauma. I should tell them. Right? I should. They need to know what's happened in order to make her better."

"If you tell them--"

"I know."

"If you tell them, they might never speak to you again. They'll definitely never let you see Alice."

"But they'll be able to help her.”

"How? How will that help her? What will they tell this psychologist? When our daughter was a baby, her big sister killed her and fractured her soul? How can any mortal psychologist make sense of that? How can... What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You have another headache?"

"It's nothing. And I don't know how it'd help, and I don't know how they'd explain it without sounding nuts, but I've kept this from them for way too long and they need to know the truth."

"No, they don't. What would be the point in ruining your relationship with your parents? You love them, they love you, and they never have to know about Alice's soul being broken. You fixed it, didn't you? You went through hell to find the pieces and put it back together. Why would you tell them what happened? Alice isn't going to. She barely understands what happened back then."

"Maybe she should tell them. I'm making her keep a huge, traumatising secret from her own parents. I damaged her years ago, when she was a defenceless little baby, and, when I try to fix her, I just damaged her some more. At least when her soul was fractured she didn't feel any sadness. What have I done? What exactly have I done to make her life better? I've just given her back that sadness, all in one go. All the pain, all the sorrow, all the trauma, all the horror, all the--"

"Valkyrie. Stop. You're doing it again."

"I've ruined her. "

"Stop it. You're spiraling."

"So what? So what if I'm spiraling? I deserve to spiral. After everything I've done, I deserve to spiral and I deserve a lot worse. You don't know what it's like to have these thoughts on your head. You don't. You don't know what it's like to have them constantly swirling and getting louder and louder. It's deafening in here. I can't hear anything else. All these voices, all these horrible, horrible voices, saying horrible, horrible things. The guilt... Jesus, the guilt. You don't know. It's everywhere. Every time I open my eyes. Every time I close my eyes. It's always there. It's underneath everything. Even when I'm with Militsa. Even when I'm with Skulduggery. I don't know... I don't know how much longer I can keep going. "

"Hey. "

"Oh, God."

"Hey. Look at me. Listen to me. You'll keep going because that's what you do. I don't know much about much, but I know you. I am you, although slightly smarter and significantly prettier."

"I don't think I can."

"You’re doubting yourself. That's fine. Everyone has doubts. You hate yourself, too. I get that. You've been out in impossible situations, forced to do unthinkable things. But this, how you're feeling now, it won't last forever. You think it will - it feels like it will - but it won't. You're in a pit, but you've climbed out of that pit before and you'll climb out of it again."

"I'm too tired."

"I don't think that matters. You're not going to stop climbing. I know you're not."

"You don't... You don't know me like you think you do. You're not me. You're a piece of Darquesse that she left behind."

"And Darquesse is a piece of you."

"So you're a piece of a piece of me, from back when I was eighteen. I've changed since then."

"I know you have. Look at all the muscle you've put on. Why couldn't you have had abs seven years ago, eh? Then I'd have them, too."

"That's not really what I mean."

"You talk like you're about to give up, but you're down at that gym how many times a week? And what food do you eat? When was the last time you had a pizza?"

"I don't..."

"If you'd given up, you wouldn't be working out. If you'd given up, you wouldn't be calculating when you're getting your next dose of protein. You'd have stopped caring about any of that stuff."

"But that's habit. That's... I dunno. That's something I do to take my mind off things. If I focus on the next rep, if I focus on lifting more than I did last week, then I have a few moments where I don't have to listen to all the horrible things going on in my head."

"You've still got a hell of a lot of fight in you, Valkyrie. I know you do. I can see it."

"I don't think you're right. I'm not a robot. I don't just keep marching on. There's only, like, so much someone can take, isn't there? There's only so many times you can fall into a pit before you think to yourself, what's the point in climbing out if I'm just going to fall back in tomorrow?"

"I... You need help. And not from me. And not from that bloody music box. You need professional help. Maybe some decent medication. You definitely need someone to talk to you who knows what they're doing."

"The music box helps."

"No, it doesn't."

"I wouldn't be able to get out of bed in the morning if I didn't have it."

"It's not healthy."

"It calms me down."

"It turns you into a zombie. I've watched you when you're listening to it. You just sit there, staring at the wall. I've actually called your name, actually shouted in your ear, and you haven't noticed I'm even there."

"You're exaggerating."

"I wish I were. It's not good for you."

"It helps."

"And what about those little Splashes of magic? Did you really think I didn't know about them?"

"I just use them when I have to."

"You realise it's a drug, right? What, nothing to say to that?"

"I don't talk to you to be judged. I talk to you because there's no one else I can talk to about this stuff. And I talk to you because, if I didn't, you know what? You'd float around, you'd walk through walls, you'd do whatever it is you do when I'm not there, and no one would see you or hear you or even know you exist. So do me one small favour, OK? Do not judge me. You're a piece of a piece of me that's a frickin' murderer. You're a piece of a piece of me that's an inhuman psychopath who was intent on killing the whole goddamn world."

"You're in a bad mood. I can tell."

"Just leave me alone, Kes. I need to be by myself."

"You'll never be left alone, you silly thing. This is the life you chose, a life of adventure. And the next one, as always, is just around the corner."

Chapter 1.

Red candles, maybe a dozen of them. Brick walls. Lot of rafters, lot of shadows, lots of big, empty patches of darkness. Wooden floor. She was in a cellar, a big one, upright against something metal. She could feel the struts digging into her back. Her arms were over her head, wrists bound with rope. Ankles tied, too.

Her tongue tasted sour. They’d drugged her. Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips. Her head was dull. She shot a little magic through her system and her mind cleared instantly.

She wondered if her make-up had been smudged. She hoped it hadn’t. It had taken ages to put on. Her shoes were gone. Good. They were awful. She was still in the dress, though, the one that was too small and too tight and not very practical. It did have one thing going for it, however – the amulet of dark metal, in the shape of a skull, that fitted against her hip like some cool- looking clasp.

She raised her head slightly, gave her surroundings a closer inspection through the hair that hung over her face. Pedestals displayed occult paraphernalia in glass cases like this was some- one’s idea of a black magic museum, and good quality – though obviously plastic – skeletons, dressed in rags, hung from shackles along the walls. The ground was sticky against her bare feet. She was positioned in the exact centre of a pentagram painted on the floorboards. She was pretty sure the dark stains had been made by copious splashes of blood.

“She’s awake,” someone said in the darkness ahead of her. “Hey, she’s awake. Get the others.”

The sound of feet on wooden steps, and then yellow light flooded in from above. A large shadow flowed across the light and then the cellar door closed and she was left with the flickering red candles and whoever had spoken.

He came forward, out of the darkness. Dressed in a red robe with the hood up.

“What’s your name?” he asked. His voice was gentle. American. Warm.

“Valkyrie,” she said.

“Valerie?”

“Valkyrie. With a K.”

“That’s a nice name. Unusual. Is it Irish?”

“Norwegian.”

“Oh. My friend said you were from Ireland.”

“I am. My name isn’t.”

“Ah.” He stepped a bit closer. She could see the lower half of his face, his square jaw and his even white teeth.

“You’re probably freaking out right now. I get that. I do. You wake up, you’re in a dark cellar, you see satanic stuff all around, you probably think you’re going to be horribly butchered in some ridiculous human-sacrifice ritual, yeah?” He pulled his hood down and his smile broadened. “Well, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“I know you,” said Valkyrie.

“Do you?”

“You’re that actor,” she said. “From that movie. You’re Jason Randal.”

“You want an autograph?”

“How about a selfie? If you could just hand me my phone...”

He laughed. “Oh, I like you. That’s an impressive response. Usually, the girls we sacrifice are full of panicked questions at this stage, like they think they can make sense of what’s happening. Like they can’t bring themselves to believe that they’re about to be murdered.”

“What was that movie you were in, with the guy from The Big Lebowski?”

Jason tilted his head slightly. “I haven’t been in a film with—”

“No, you know the one. You both play dead cops who are still, like, solving crimes and stuff? You’re not zombie cops, or ghost cops, but... what’s it called? I want to say RIP, but...”

Jason’s smile faded. “RIPD,” he said.

“Yes,” Valkyrie said. “That was a terrible movie. Why did you make that?”

He scratched his jaw. “That was Ryan Reynolds. You’re thinking of Ryan Reynolds.”

“That wasn’t you?”

“No.”

Valkyrie frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I think I know what films I’ve been in.”

“I could have sworn it was you.”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“It’s a terrible movie.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it and I wasn’t in it.”

“It’s bad.”

“Then how about we stop talking about it?”

“Are you ashamed of it because it’s so bad?”

“I wasn’t in it.”

Valkyrie looked at him. “Maybe if you had a better agent you’d get better movies.”

Yellow light flooded the cellar and shadows moved, cast by the three people coming down the steps, all dressed in red robes.

“Is the Master here?” Jason Randal asked them, annoyance pinching his words.

“He’s on his way,” the woman in front said. Her name escaped

Valkyrie, but these days she was always being cast as the girlfriend or the wife of the hero. A few years ago, however, she’d headlined a few movies herself. Not bad movies, either. The guy behind her, one of the stars of a dreadful sitcom Valkyrie had pretended to like, was the one who’d bought her the spiked drink in the crowded bar. She recognised the last person – an actor in a TV show she’d never watched who had a ridiculous name that she couldn’t remember.

The woman had an amazing smile and incredible bone structure and wonderful hair. It shone in the candlelight. “I take it Jason has explained what’s going to happen,” she said.

“Don’t bother with this one,” Jason said, somewhat grumpily. “She’s not that bright.”

Valkyrie ignored him. “I’m a huge fan,” she said. 

“Aw, thank you.” 

“That film where you were out for revenge on the men who’d killed your husband? That was brilliant.”

“That’s really sweet of you to say so. I did a lot of my own stunts for that one.”

“The fight scenes were excellent.” 

The woman smiled at the others. “Do we have to kill her? She has such great taste!”

The others chuckled – all except Jason. He didn’t chuckle even a little bit.

“We should do it now,” he said. The woman frowned at him. Victoria, that was her name. Victoria Leigh. 

“Before the Master gets here?”

“It’s almost midnight. We’ll have to do it anyway, with or without him.”

“The Master will not be pleased,” said the sitcom star.

“Then the Master should be on time for the human sacrifice,” Jason snapped back. “The rest of us are all here, aren’t we? And we have careers. I have to be on set in two hours, and don’t you have an early call tomorrow?”

“I do have an early call,” murmured the sitcom star. 

Victoria checked the slender gold watch on her slender pale wrist. “OK, fine, get everything ready to go. We’ll wait till the last second. If the Master arrives in time, excellent. If he doesn’t, we’ll do it ourselves on the stroke of midnight.”

The others nodded and went off to fetch whatever they needed to fetch. Victoria stepped closer, though, brushing Valkyrie’s hair back off her face.

“You’re a pretty one,” she said. “Not leading-lady beautiful, perhaps, but definitely girl-next-door pretty. And those shoulders! Good lord! Linebacker shoulders, that’s what we call them. I can see why Tadd picked you.” Her voice softened. “Was he respectful? I’ve warned him about this in the past.”

“Pretty sure he was.”

“Good. I’ve seen far too many girls being disrespected in my business and I’d hate to be a part of something that perpetuates this behaviour.”

“Aren’t you lot going to murder me in a few minutes?”

A little laugh. “I am aware of the contradiction.”

“Good,” said Valkyrie. “Because I was worrying.”

“I have to say... What’s your name?”

“Valkyrie.”

“Ah, from Norse mythology. Very nice. I have to say, Valkyrie, you’re surprisingly calm about this whole thing.”

Valkyrie shrugged as much as she was able. “I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’ve been in worse situations.”

“You have?” 

“It’s all worked out in the end.” 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight.”

“We’ll see.” 

“Indeed we will, Valkyrie. That’s a great attitude to have. We will indeed see. So tell me, what brings you out to LA? Aspiring actress?”

“Actually, I’m thinking of getting into stuntwork. I like being physical, you know? Throwing people around, crashing through windows, falling off rooftops... That’s my kind of thing.”

“Oh, I admire stunt people so much, I really do. I know this great little team down in Glendale. Such a shame you’re dying tonight – someone as athletic as you, you’d have fit in perfectly.”

“Can I ask you something? This Master guy you’re waiting on – who is he?”

“You sure you want to know? Well, why the hell not – you won’t be telling anyone, right? He’s a sorcerer. He’s magic.”

“Like one of those street magicians?”

Victoria’s laugh was as pretty as her eyes. “No, no, not like those street magicians. I mean he’s actually, really, genuinely magic. He can move things just by waving his hands. He clicks his fingers and he’s holding a ball of fire in his palm.”

“No kidding?”

“I swear it’s true.”

“And why does he make you sacrifice people?”

“Well, he gets his power from Satan, you see. He’s Satan’s emissary here on earth. All of us in our little group, we’re the ones who sacrifice the girls and, as a reward, Satan grants the Master the power to fulfil our wildest dreams.”

“Golly,” said Valkyrie.

“I know.”

“And does it work? Do your wildest dreams come true?”

Victoria made a seesawing motion with her hand. “It’s not an exact science. We get a lot of callbacks during pilot season, a lot of interest from casting agents and directors... but really Satan just opens the door. It’s up to us to walk through.”

“Right, right,” said Valkyrie. “So Satan is real, then?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Wow. And that’s all he asks for? Human sacrifice?”

“Yes. And a commission.”

“A commission?”

“That goes to the Master. For living expenses, you know.”

“So the Master gets a cut of whatever you make? How big a cut?”

Victoria hesitated. “Forty per cent.”

“Seriously?”

“But it’s worth it. Tadd wouldn’t have got that sitcom if it wasn’t for the Master, and I’m on a shortlist for the role of a wartime correspondent. It’s based on a true story and the script has a lot of buzz around it right now.”

“Good luck with that one. I hope you get it.”

“Thank you.” The others came back. Tadd held a candelabra of seven long- stemmed, unlit black candles, and the other one, the actor whose ridiculous name Valkyrie couldn’t remember, carried a box of polished oak. Jason Randal opened the box, and took out a long, curved dagger. The corners of his mouth lifted when he looked at Valkyrie.

“We still have two minutes,” Victoria said.

“She needs to be dead at midnight,” Jason responded. “I know the rules.”

“We should do it now, to be sure she dies.”

“We’ll do it at eleven fifty-nine. So long as you stab her in the heart, she’ll be dead in seconds. Light the ceremonial candles.”

The ridiculously named actor put the box down and came hurrying over, digging through his robes. He produced a silver Zippo, flicked it open and ran the flint wheel along his thigh. It sparked to a flame, and he put the flame to the seven black candles. Tadd held the candelabra aloft.

“The candles,” he said, “are lit.”

“The dagger,” Jason intoned, “is sharp.” 

“The time,” Victoria said, eyes on her watch, “is now.”

Chapter 2.

Jason grinned and raised the dagger and then the seven candles went out.

“Oh,” said Tadd. “Sorry.”

Jason glared. “Relight them.” The actor with the ridiculous name flicked the Zippo open again, ran it across his leg again, and lit the candles again.

Sheepishly, Tadd held the candelabra aloft once more. “The candles are lit.”

Then they went out again. “For God’s sake,” Jason muttered.

“Are you standing in a draught or something?” Victoria asked. “Move over there, and don’t hold them up so high this time. Come on, we’re running out of time. Relight them.”

The actor with the ridiculous name flicked the Zippo open. “I swear,” said Jason, “if you run that up your leg one more time, I am stabbing you instead of this girl. Do you understand? Just light the damn candles.”

The actor narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to be a—”

“Light the candles, Maverick!” said Jason and Victoria at the same time.

Maverick. That was his name. Maverick Reels. What a silly name. Not that someone who’d called herself Valkyrie Cain could throw stones, but still.

As Maverick fumbled with the Zippo, the cellar door opened and a man swept down the stairs. “Hail Satan!” he cried.

“Hail Satan!” the others cried back.

“Hail Satan,” Valkyrie added, just to be in with the cool kids.

“Midnight is almost upon us!” said the Master, summoning fire into his hand and passing it over the candelabra, lighting each wick. “Why does this girl still live? Kill her! Deliver her soul to the Dark Lord!”

“Voldemort?” Valkyrie asked, frowning. The Master pulled down his hood. He didn’t look like a Master. He looked like a mid-level office manager with a bad goatee. He peered at her. “Do I know you?”

“Do you?”

“I’ve seen you before.”

“Have you?”

“I’ve seen your photograph,” he said.

“Where have you seen it?”

“I’m trying to remember,” he said.

“Think hard now.”

“Stop talking.”

“Maybe it wasn’t even me,” Valkyrie said. “Was it a photo taken in a burning city? Then it wasn’t me. It was a god who just looked like me.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, no.” Valkyrie’s magic crackled, white lightning dancing around her wrists and ankles, burning through the ropes.

Panicking, the Master grabbed the dagger from Jason just as one of the skeletons in rags stepped away from the wall and seized his wrist.

“Let’s not do anything hasty,” Skulduggery said, and everyone in the little group of satanic worshipers screamed and leaped away as he punched the Master right on the hinge of his jaw.

The Master’s knees buckled and he collapsed into Skulduggery’s arms, and Valkyrie broke free of the scaffolding holding her and followed the actors as they scrambled up the cellar steps.

She caught Maverick just as the door crashed open, pulling him off the steps. He flailed madly and she ducked as he spun, then clocked him right on the chin. He stiffened and pitched backwards. Valkyrie left him there and ran after the others.

She emerged from the cellar into an impressively big house – a movie star’s house. Lots of glass and exposed brick and open spaces. She followed the sounds of panic to the front door, where Jason and Victoria and Tadd were cursing each other as they tried to navigate the locks.

They heard her coming. Tadd let out a roar and came charging. He was shorter than Valkyrie, and skinnier, and she stepped into him, stopping him with a shoulder. He staggered a little and her fingers curled into his hair and she smacked his face against the painting on the wall over and over until he fell down.

Victoria ran into another room as Jason Randal dropped his robe and squared up to Valkyrie. He was big. He had muscles. He moved like he knew what he was doing, or he’d at least worked with fight choreographers – but when he threw the first punch it was stiff and awkward and badly judged, and it stopped a good hand’s length short of where it needed to land. He didn’t have a clue, and this wasn’t worth bruising her knuckles over, so Valkyrie blasted him with a little lightning that threw him back against the door. He fell in a crumpled, unconscious heap and she went after Victoria. She was standing in the huge living room holding a poker like a baseball bat.

“This isn’t going to do me a whole lot of good, is it?” she asked after a moment.

Valkyrie gave a shrug, and Victoria sighed, and put the poker down.

“Was that an actual skeleton I saw downstairs, or was it some sort of special effect?”

“It was a skeleton. He’s alive and he talks. His name’s Skulduggery.”

“Of course it is,” Victoria said, and took a seat, wearily, on the couch. “So you’re a sorcerer, too, are you?”

“Yep.”

“You a Satanist also?”

Valkyrie sat opposite, and crossed her legs. “That guy’s not a Satanist. None of us are Satanists. Magic has got nothing to do with religion. Those people you sacrificed? The devil didn’t collect their souls. Those people just died.”

Victoria took a while before answering. “But then why did the Master tell us to do it?”

“Well, seeing as how all this is about money, I’m guessing that in order to get the lot of you to really commit, the idiot you call Master made you kill a bunch of innocent people so you couldn’t change your minds and back out at a later date.”

Victoria’s face slackened. “We didn’t have to kill those girls?”

“Nope.”

“But... but our careers... How did he—?”

“There’s a trick sorcerers can do once they know the name you were born with. They can tell you to do stuff. Not big stuff, not life-changing stuff – he wouldn’t have been able to coax a whole lot of money out of you that way – but he could certainly have suggested to casting agents that it’d be a good idea to call you in for a second audition, things like that.”

“Oh my God...”

“Yep.”

“What... what’s going to happen to me now?”

“You’re going to jail.”

“I should call my attorney.”

“You won’t need an attorney,” said Valkyrie. “You’re going to one of our jails. All four of you will disappear. No one will know where you are.”

“But my family... My fans...”

“They’ll never see you again.”

Victoria stared at her. “You can’t do that.”

“By our estimation, you’ve murdered sixteen young women between the four of you. We might be wrong. You might have murdered more.”

“But the Master told us we had to.”

“Stop calling him Master. He’s just some low-level sorcerer who couldn’t be bothered doing the work of a real agent so he invented this Satanist thing to make some money out of you morons. And I don’t care what he told you. You had a choice. You could have chosen not to murder sixteen innocent young women. Obviously, that’s not the road you decided to go down.”

Victoria sat forward, elbows on her knees, hands hidden by the voluminous sleeves of her robe, evidently processing what she could. “I can’t go to jail,” she said slowly. “I’m on a shortlist. That part could win me an Oscar.” She straightened up. She had a gun in her hand. “I’m really sorry.”

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react.

“Sorcerers aren’t bulletproof, are they?” Victoria asked.

“No, we’re not,” said Valkyrie.

“I’m really sorry about this.”

“Are you, though?”

Victoria thumbed back the hammer. It made a pleasing little click. “I’m not the best shot in the world,” she said, “but I’m not bad, either. That revenge movie I was in? My firearms coach told me I was a natural. But, even if I were the worst shot in the world, I couldn’t miss from this range even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, I bet you could if you tried.”

“Will a gun kill your skeleton friend?”

“Not that gun.”

“Then I’ll just kill you.”

Valkyrie tapped the amulet on her hip and the black suit spread outwards, covering her skin and her clothes, flowing down to her feet and to her fingertips before Victoria’s eyes could even finish widening.

The gun went off. The bullet hit Valkyrie in the belly and she grunted, sitting forward slightly. She pulled the hood up as a second bullet struck her chest. Christ, that stung. Her fingers found the mask in the hood and she pulled it down and felt it turn solid over her face as Victoria stood and proceeded to empty the gun into her. Valkyrie wondered what the skull mask looked like today.

Every time she pulled it down, it was slightly different than the time before. It was like Skulduggery’s façade in that way. Victoria’s final bullet hit Valkyrie in the forehead, making the mask reverberate. Valkyrie stood up.

“I thought you said you weren’t bulletproof,” Victoria said quietly, the gun hanging uselessly by her side.

“I’m not,” Valkyrie responded, brushing a squashed bullet from her chest. “The suit is. I was going to give you the option of leaving this house in cuffs, as opposed to unconscious, but...”

“But I just tried to kill you?”

Valkyrie shrugged, took the gun away from her.

“Please,” Victoria said, “not the face.”

“Sure,” Valkyrie said, and hit her in the face anyway.

Chapter 3

Omen Darkly went to prison.

He didn’t like it much. It was big and grey and intimidating and it smelled of fear and sweat and everyone seemed to be in a bad mood and he was glad, all things considered, that he was just going to be there for half an hour or so.

He wouldn’t have lasted long in prison. For one thing, he was only fifteen, and, while he was currently experiencing his long-awaited ‘growth spurt’, it had resulted in a feeling that he simply had too many joints to fit in his body.

Omen strongly suspected, however, that his twin brother would have excelled in here. Tall and strong, a born leader, Auger would have taken down the biggest and baddest convict on his first day and then made the prison his kingdom.

But the very idea was ridiculous. Auger was the Chosen One, born with an innate understanding of right and wrong. He was a good guy, the one person you could depend on to never let you down.

And right now he was in a hospital bed after having nearly been killed, and Omen was visiting the guy who’d put him there.

Jenan Ispolin sat on the other side of the table and stared, a twist to his lips, his eyes heavy-lidded. There wasn’t a glass partition between them. Omen had expected a glass partition.

Suddenly all of his opening lines, the lines he’d rehearsed again and again in his head, that he’d muttered in front of the mirror, didn’t seem to fit the occasion. They were all tough-guy lines, designed to impress. But Omen wasn’t a tough guy, had never been a tough guy, and pretending to be one here, in a prison populated by guys who had to be tough to survive, now seemed like the silliest thing in the world.

So instead he said, “How are you doing?”

Jenan didn’t respond.

“Do they let you get much exercise here? I saw a yard on my way in. Do they let you play sports? What kind of sports?”

Jenan had liked playing sports when he was in school, Omen knew. He was good at them.

“We don’t play sports,” Jenan said.

“Right,” said Omen. That had been a stupid question. He changed the subject. “Do they let you see your folks much?”

Jenan leaned forward. “What do you want?”

“I don’t … I don’t actually know.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to confront you, I suppose. And I wanted to give you a chance to say what you needed to say.”

“What are you talking about? What would I need to say to you?”

“I’m not sure,” Omen confessed. “But there’s a reason you attacked me with that knife. Obviously, God, I know you don’t like me. I know that much! But this goes deeper than that, doesn’t it? I mean … you tried to kill me. You would have succeeded, too, if Auger hadn’t saved me. So I figure you must have some, like, unresolved issues.”

Jenan stared at him. “That’s why you came? So I could talk through my unresolved issues and get some closure?”

“Yeah,” said Omen. “We all need closure. I know I do. I wanted to come here and show you that I’m still alive, and I’m still doing well, and you didn’t manage to do whatever you were trying to do … but now that I’m sitting here, now that we’re talking, I can’t actually do any of that. You tried to kill me. That’s … terrifying. You stabbed me. I don’t have a scar any more, but it still hurts sometimes. It hasn’t healed completely yet.

“And you nearly killed Auger, too. See, I’m more mad about that than anything else. He’s had all the same healers and doctors that I’ve had, but his injury was way worse than mine.”

Jenan nodded. “I heard.”

“The stuff they had to do quickly in order to save his life, that’s been complicating his recovery. He hasn’t healed right. He’s still in the Infirmary in the High Sanctuary.”

“In here,” Jenan said, “I’m known as the guy who almost killed the Chosen One. They respect me because of that. A lot of them are scared of me.”

“I … I don’t see how that’s anything to be proud of, Jenan.”

Jenan laughed. “Of course you don’t. Because you’re a child.”

Omen’s voice dipped. “My parents wanted you to be given the death sentence.”

“Like I care.”

“They wanted you executed, dude.”

Jenan’s next laugh was more like a bark. “Dude,” he mimicked. “Dude.”

Omen sighed. “OK, whatever, laugh at me all you want. I’m just trying to understand why you did it.”

“Why I did it?” Jenan echoed. “I was part of Abyssinia’s army. I was the leader of First Wave. You and your little friends came in and ruined everything – of course I wanted you dead! We were going to change the world!”

Omen frowned at him. “You weren’t.”

“We all were!”

“No,” said Omen. “You weren’t. First Wave was going to be framed for murdering all those Navy people in Oregon. Abyssinia was planning on killing you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do,” said Omen, “because I was there and so were you. You were never part of her army, Jenan. She used you and the others. You were a joke to her.”

Jenan sat frozen for a moment, and then lunged across the table. Before he could touch Omen, he shrieked and jerked sideways, falling off his chair.

Omen looked down at him. “No touching,” he said.

Jenan moaned, and the prison guard stepped forward.

“Everything OK here?” she asked.

“It’s fine, thank you,” Omen said. “He just wanted a hug.”

The prison guard nodded, and Omen waited until Jenan had dragged himself back into his chair.

“Your friends are in detention facilities,” he said. “Minimum-security stuff. Not like here. This is a proper prison, for proper bad guys. You’re not a proper bad guy, Jenan. You should be in school. Temper Fray – you know who Temper Fray is? He’s a sergeant in the City Guard. Anyway, Temper Fray told me the truth. They don’t respect you in here. No one is afraid of you. He told me you cry yourself to sleep most nights and every day you’re on the phone to your parents, begging them to come and see you. Your mum’s only been here half a dozen times and your dad still hasn’t come to visit. You’re miserable, dude. I’m just … I wanted to see if I could make things better.”

Jenan tried glaring back defiantly, but tears rolled down his cheeks and his lower lip quivered. “I hate you,” he said, his voice strangely high. “I hate you and I’ll always hate you. You ruined everything. You ruined my life, you pathetic little nobody. When I get out of here, I’m going to kill you. I don’t care how long it takes, how many years. I’m going to kill you, do you hear me?”

Omen watched him cry. “I hear you,” he said sadly, and got up.

Chapter 4.

Valkyrie set the alarm on her phone for sixty seconds, put it on the dashboard, and opened the lid of the music box on the seat beside her. The tune slowly filled the car, and Valkyrie’s eyes fluttered closed. It felt like the blood in her veins was slowing, her heartbeat softening. Anchors were attached to her thoughts, dragging them to a halt. Peace came over the horizon of her mind like the rising sun, until its warm comfort covered everything. She focused on her breathing. Her breathing was the only thing in the universe.

In the distance, an alarm went off, but it was dull and muted and unimportant. It slipped from her attention easily and once more there was only her breathing.

Then a voice – voices – and a laugh, and Valkyrie opened her eyes and blinked as a group of teenagers passed her car, chatting among themselves. Her alarm was going off. She closed the music box, shut off the alarm, sat there in the cold silence.

Her thoughts returned to her and she looked at the time.

“Dammit,” she said.

She pulled the handle, opened the door, lurched out of the car. Went to stuff the phone in her pocket, realised she was wearing a dress. A nice dress. Blue. Why was she wearing a dress? That thing in LA. It had reminded her that she liked wearing skirts and dresses sometimes. Not all the time. Sometimes. For special occasions. Was this a special occasion? Why was she here?

Fergus. His birthday.

“Dammit,” she said again.

She reached back into the car, grabbed her purse, and stuffed her keys and her phone into it as she hurried to the door of the Chinese restaurant. Here on time, but now twenty minutes late. Of course she was.

Through the door, smiling at the nice lady there to greet her, indicated she was with someone already inside. In she went, found the table at the back. Her parents and her sister and Fergus and Beryl and Crystal but no Carol.

“Here she is,” said Desmond, and Alice jumped up and ran over and Valkyrie laughed as her little sister hugged her round the waist.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Alice informed her.

“You’re very good,” Valkyrie said, smiling warmly. The little bit of panic was receding into the warm ocean of calm the music box had delivered. “Sorry I’m late, everyone,” she said as Alice guided her by the hand to her chair.

She expected Beryl to say something sharp and resentful, but everyone just smiled and shrugged and said it didn’t matter.

The waiter came over, took their orders. Valkyrie turned to Alice and winked at her. “Hey, you,” she said.

“Hey, you,” Alice echoed.

“Haven’t seen you in a few days. What you been up to?”

Alice shrugged. “Things.”

“Things, eh?”

“And stuff.”

“Stuff, too? You have been busy. How’s school?”

“I got ten out of ten on my spelling test, but they were really easy, so everyone got ten out of ten except for one boy who forgot that we had a test. Well, he said he forgot, but I think he just didn’t want to learn the words. And there’s a new boy in my class.”

“Is there?”

“His name’s Dima. We all made him cards to introduce ourselves, and Mom looked up what welcome to school was in Russian and I wrote it and I gave it to him. And then today he gave me a card back, and he said he loved me.”

Valkyrie’s eyebrow arched. “Oh, wow …!”

Melissa leaned over. “He said you’re beautiful, didn’t he?”

Alice nodded. “He wrote you’re beautiful and I love you. And he’s right,” she said, “I am beautiful,” and she gave a dimpled, gap-toothed grin that made Valkyrie laugh.

The first course arrived and Valkyrie found it easier to interact with others when she had the distraction of food in front of her. It gave her time to think, to formulate responses, and an excuse to be brief when necessary.

The waiting staff came over, cleared the plates, and Alice announced that she had to go to the toilet, and slid out of her chair.

“I’ll go with you,” Beryl said, and Valkyrie suppressed a laugh at Alice’s rolled eyes.

Smiling, Valkyrie turned her attention to the rest of the table. They were all looking at her and her smile dropped.

“What?” she said.

Crystal leaned forward. “Why were you late?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Were you saving the world?”

This was weird, sitting here with family members who all knew about magic. “No,” said Valkyrie, “I was just late.”

“We don’t talk about this in public,” Fergus warned.

“Then when can we talk about it?” Crystal asked, giving her dad a scowl. “We can’t talk about it in private because either Mum or Alice is around. Right now is the only time we can hear what’s going on. So come on, Valkyrie – what’s going on?”

“Stephanie,” Melissa corrected. “We call her by her proper name here.”

“But it’s not her proper name, is it?” Crystal countered. “It’s her given name. Valkyrie is her proper name.”

“Stephanie is fine when I’m with family,” Valkyrie said quickly. “It makes it easier to, y’know, maintain my cover or whatever.”

Crystal nodded. “Fair enough.”

Fergus shifted uncomfortably. “We shouldn’t be discussing this where someone could overhear us.”

“We’re fine,” said Desmond. “If anyone’s walking up behind you, I’ll give you the signal by coughing into my hand.”

Fergus frowned at his brother. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

Desmond shrugged. “I reckon our family has gone long enough not talking about this stuff, don’t you?”

“If that’s a veiled reference to how I never told you that magic was real, I would respond by saying you’ve had seven years to get over it and it’s becoming quite tiresome.”

“Tiresome, is it?”

“I was protecting you.”

“You lied to me, you mean,” said Desmond. “You all lied to me – you, Gordon, Pop. The only person who didn’t lie to me was Granddad, and he’s the one you said was nuts.”

“You think it was easy?” Fergus asked, getting angry. “You think it was fun? Gordon was a lost cause, so all the responsibility fell to me to—”

Desmond coughed into his hand and Fergus shut up immediately and stared down at his plate.

When no one approached the table, he looked around, then glared. “Very mature.”

Alice came skipping back, with Beryl close behind.

“What were you talking about?” Beryl asked as they retook their seats.

“Nothing,” Fergus said sulkily.

“Crystal,” Melissa said, putting on a smile, “how is Carol doing in her new job?”

“Good, I think,” Crystal said. “It pays well, and she says the people are, um, what’s the word she used? Undemanding. So I think that means she’s settling in.”

“We don’t really hear much from Carol,” Beryl said. “She’s steadily grown more and more distant. I think, probably, that’s my fault.”

“Beryl, no,” said Fergus, covering her hand with his own.

She tried to smile. “I suppose I was never the warmest of mothers. I look at you, Melissa – you and Stephanie, and now little Alice – and I marvel at that relationship. How close you are. You’re friends more than … more than anything. I could never understand how you managed it.”

“Mum,” said Crystal, blinking back tears.

“My sweet girl,” Beryl said, reaching over, holding her hand. “I’ll never stop being sorry for the kind of mother I was to you.”

Valkyrie’s heart drummed in her hollow chest. Every beat reverberated. “Excuse me,” she said quietly, pushing herself away from the table. She managed to walk without stumbling out into the reception area, then lunged for the door.

Fresh air. She gasped it in. Her head was light. She went to put a hand against the wall and misjudged the distance, fell sideways, hit it with her shoulder. She looked drunk. She felt drunk. She needed the music box.

The door opened. Her mother walked out. Valkyrie straightened.

“Are you OK?” Melissa asked.

Valkyrie nodded. “Needed to make a call.”

Melissa handed her her purse. “Then you might need your phone.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Are you OK?” Melissa asked again. Valkyrie didn’t answer, and her mum put her arm round her. “It’s sad,” she said, “watching Carol grow apart from her family like that.”

“Beryl isn’t to blame.”

“Oh, I know. She was never the easiest woman to get along with, and we’ve had our differences, but she adored the twins. Sometimes, sweetheart, there is no reason for the things people do. They change. They grow apart. But that’ll never happen to us.”

Valkyrie smiled weakly, hugging her back, and Melissa was silent for a long, long moment. Then she said, “You just have to look at Alice to see how much people – even kids – can change.”

Valkyrie moved her head off her mother’s shoulder.

“The doctors don’t know what’s wrong,” Melissa said, turning to watch a car go by. “A shift like this, they said it could be down to trauma, but, if Alice has suffered any trauma, she’s not telling us about it. Has she mentioned anything to you?”

Valkyrie shook her head.

“I don’t know what it is. She’ll spend all morning crying. Not little sobs, either. Big, racking sobs. It’s … it’s gut-wrenching.” Melissa’s hand was shaking. She noticed it, used it to brush her hair back over her ear. “Is there anything you can do?” she asked.

The question took Valkyrie by surprise. “What?”

“Is there anything magical you can do? A spell, or a charm, or something?”

“Mum, you really don’t want to use magic for something as delicate as this.”

“But is there?”

Valkyrie looked away. “We don’t do spells,” she said, not for the first time. “But, even if we did, trying to alter a person’s emotional state, that’s …”

Melissa nodded. “No. You’re right. It was a silly idea.”

“It wasn’t silly …”

“I thought there might be a quick fix,” Melissa said. “An easy answer. I wanted to cheat, basically. I was talking to your dad a few days ago about getting in a hypnotist, and that led us on to that time you told us about using people’s names to get them to do things. We were thinking something like that might help.”

“I don’t know, Mum. That kind of thing, there’s no way of knowing the ramifications. Besides, using someone’s given name, that usually doesn’t last longer than a few seconds.”

“But you use it to get people to forget things, don’t you?”

“It’s not as easy as that.”

Melissa’s face suddenly crumpled and the tears came, and now it was Valkyrie’s turn to wrap her arms around her.

“It’s OK,” Valkyrie said, her heart breaking. “It’s OK.”

“I just don’t know what we’ve done wrong.”

Now tears were running down Valkyrie’s cheeks. “Nothing,” she managed to say. “You’ve done nothing wrong. None of this is your fault.”

It was Valkyrie’s fault, just like Carol’s behaviour was Valkyrie’s fault. All this heartbreak, all this sadness and guilt – it was all because of her.

There was bile in her throat. She wanted to drop to her knees, wanted to scream until her voice was hoarse, wanted to throw up until there was nothing left inside her. Instead, she hung on to her mother until Melissa had regained control and stepped away, smiling bravely.

“Back into the fray,” she said. “You coming?”

Valkyrie held up her purse. “Got to make that call.”

Melissa smiled gently. “OK, sweetie. See you in there.”

When the door closed and her mother was gone, Valkyrie lurched to her car. She plunged her hand into her purse, found the fob. The boot clicked and opened and she practically dived in, she was so eager. Grabbed the sports bag, yanked the zip across, pulled out the music box, held it in both hands, pressed her thumbs to each side and opened the lid.

The music swam to her and her eyes closed, the turmoil calming. The sick feeling went away. All those voices. All that screaming in her head. All went quiet.

“Thank you,” she murmured to the music. “Thank you.”

Chapter 5.

Black suit. Three-piece. Black shirt. Red tie. Black hat, with black hatband, pulled low over one eye socket. One shoulder leaning on wall. Gloved hands in pockets. First polished shoe flat on ground. Second polished shoe, crossed over, toe to pavement.

Skulduggery Pleasant. Overdressed.

“You’re still compensating for wearing those rags the other day, aren’t you?” Valkyrie said as she approached.

“It was not a highlight of my existence, this is true,” he said, “but I try not to compensate for anything, Valkyrie. I’d planned to wear this ensemble today, regardless of what disguise I wore over the weekend.”

“Right,” she said, not entirely believing him. They walked side by side into the Humdrums, Roarhaven’s mortal district. It was quieter here. Fewer shops. The people hurried by, casting nervous glances around as they went.

“How was your uncle’s birthday dinner?” Skulduggery asked.

“Strained,” she answered. “But we ended it by singing happy birthday and the staff brought out a cupcake with a candle on it, so at least Alice had a good time. Who are we looking for?”

“Our mysterious friend.”

“Which one? We have so many.”

“My apologies. The mysterious friend who sends letters to the High Sanctuary, warning of an imminent invasion by Mevolent.”

“Oh, that mysterious friend. You think he’s a mortal?”

“No, but I think he’s hiding among them. It would have been ridiculously easy for a sorcerer to slip unnoticed through the portal from the Leibniz Universe, surrounded by tens of thousands of frightened refugees.”

“And do we know roughly where to start looking? There’s quite a few doors to knock on.”

“Oh, I know exactly where we’re going,” Skulduggery said. “Our mysterious friend left a not exactly subtle clue in a letter that arrived this morning. He wants to meet.”

They stopped, looked across the street to the pub on the other side.

“So he’s invited us here,” Valkyrie said. “And how can you be sure it’s not a trap?”

“I can’t.”

“So did you bring back-up?”

“Of course.” He started across the road. “I brought you.”

He wasn’t wearing his façade, so when they walked into the pub everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. All these mortals, still suspicious of anyone with the ability to do magic. Valkyrie wondered if they’d ever get over their distrust of sorcerers after living in a world ruled by Mevolent. She doubted it.

There was a man sitting at a table near the back, his face hidden by an old baseball cap. He wore tattered jeans, a Nirvana T-shirt, and a blazer – clothes that looked like they’d been donated – and his right hand was gloved.

His right hand. Was gloved.

Nefarian Serpine looked up at them as he tilted his chair back, and smiled. “Now, I would wager that you didn’t expect to see—”

Valkyrie snatched up an empty beer bottle and threw it, and it bounced off Serpine’s head and he toppled over backwards.

“Ow,” he said from the floor.

They stood over him. He started to get up, but Skulduggery planted a foot on his chest.

“You probably have questions,” Serpine said.

“The last we saw of you,” Skulduggery said, “you were leading the Resistance against Mevolent in another reality. What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Serpine said, trying to get comfortable, “not long after you departed, it occurred to me that being the leader of the Resistance was a very dangerous title to hold. It meant a lot of Mevolent’s people wanted to kill me. Almost all of them, in fact. So, taking this into account, I regretfully stepped down.”

“Who’s in charge now?” Valkyrie asked.

“I don’t actually know,” Serpine responded. “There is a distinct likelihood that I failed to tell anyone in the Resistance that I was leaving. I don’t like goodbyes, you see.”

Skulduggery removed his foot and waved his hand, and the chair righted itself, almost throwing Serpine into the table. “Thank you,” he grumbled.

Valkyrie dragged another chair over and sat. “So you left the Resistance without a leader, ran away, mingled with all those mortals, and came through the portal.”

“And I’ve been living here ever since.”

“Doing what?”

“Assimilating,” Serpine said, taking off his cap. “I’ve been watching your mortal television and reading your mortal books. You have a lot more sources of entertainment in this dimension. It’s quite diverting. And I’ve been learning a lot about this world and its culture. I haven’t been making trouble, if that’s what concerns you. In fact, I’ve been rather helpful.”

“We know,” said Valkyrie. “All those notes you’ve been sending to the High Sanctuary have been very interesting.”

“My humble attempts to be a good citizen.”

“Tell us more about that,” Skulduggery said. “Mevolent’s plans.”

Serpine gave a shrug. “He hates you. The two of you. I would imagine he’d invade this dimension just to kill you, but he’s also become obsessed with conquering a parallel world. There’s technology here that we just don’t have over there. Machinery. Computers. Medicine.”

“You’ve got a lot over there that we don’t have here,” Valkyrie pointed out.

“This is true, but a man like Mevolent isn’t one to be content with what is in front of him. If he sees something shiny and new, he wants it. He wants your world. He wants your weapons. And at the back of it all is the fact that he can’t stand the idea of a world run by mortals. Surprisingly petty, for one so tall.”

“Do you have anything useful to tell us?” Skulduggery asked. “We’ve known that there was a high probability of an invasion, or some sort of attack – none of this is news. Do you have any idea when Mevolent will invade?”

“I would guess you have until the end of the year at the very most.”

“How do you know?”

Serpine hesitated, then smiled. “All this talking is making me feel quite weak,” he said. “Perhaps, if you buy me a drink and some food, I might be able to summon the strength to talk more.”

“Oh,” Valkyrie replied. “Oh, you think this is a conversation. You think we’re chatting. No, no. This is an interrogation. If we weren’t doing this here, we’d be doing it in a cold room in the High Sanctuary and you’d be in shackles right now.”

Serpine frowned. “But I haven’t broken any laws.”

“You’ve murdered people.”

“But not here. Not in this dimension. Isn’t there a rule that says a person can’t be held responsible for laws broken in a parallel universe? Isn’t there? There should be. Besides, we have an understanding, don’t we? Detective Pleasant doesn’t blame me for killing his wife and child because I didn’t kill his wife and child.”

“You killed the wife and child of another Skulduggery,” Skulduggery said.

“Exactly. Completely different people. That’s precedent. Isn’t that the legal, mortal term for it? I saw that on one of your TV shows.”

“That’s true,” Skulduggery responded. “And I don’t blame you for it. That was another Serpine, and he’s dead, and I felt an enormous sense of satisfaction when I killed him. I’ve had my revenge.”

“Yes. See? That’s reasonable. You and I were never enemies, Skulduggery. Can I call you Skulduggery? In fact, there’s absolutely no reason why we can’t be friends.”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Skulduggery said. “You have murdered another version of my family, after all. You have done unspeakable things in another version of my world. You’re still you. So I would recommend you answer our questions and be as helpful as you can possibly be, or we’ll drag you to a cell and talk to you there.”

Serpine straightened up. “Of course. My apologies. You asked how I knew Mevolent would be invading within a year. I suppose I don’t – not really. But I don’t think he has any other choice.”

“Explain.”

“There’s a sickness on my world,” Serpine said. “I heard reports before I came here. I don’t know anything about it other than it spreads quickly, it leaves no survivors and, the last I heard, there’s no cure. Before I left, we’d lost entire continents to it.”

“So you think Mevolent will want to flee before it reaches him.”

“I do.”

“So why this?” Skulduggery asked, indicating the pub around them. “Why not put all this in a letter and leave it for us to handle? Why the meeting?”

“This information is valuable, is it not? I daresay invaluable.”

“You’re looking for a reward.”

Serpine smiled. “I’ve lived among these mortals for long enough. I would like immunity for any and all past crimes and misdemeanours, irrespective of which dimension they were committed in, and I would like a house in a better part of Roarhaven.”

Valkyrie frowned. “You want to be a citizen.”

“Indeed I do. I would also like free driving lessons and a car, and a latte. I’ve seen people order lattes on television and they don’t sell any around here, and I would so dearly love to try one. And maybe also a puppy. I’ve always liked puppies.” His smile grew wider. “They taste delicious.”

Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery. “Shall I hit him,” she asked, “or will you?”

Chapter 6.

Sebastian Tao sat on the couch in the living room as Lily brought out a tray of freshly baked cookies. The others each picked one out as the tray passed, making satisfied moans as they took a bite. They held their free hands under their chins to catch the crumbs that fell. Sebastian’s mouth watered. He would have given almost anything to merely smell those cookies – but for the last two years all he’d been able to smell was the inside of his beak.

He hated his mask. He hated the glass eyeholes and the ridiculous beak and the straps that kept it all in place. He hated the hat he wore with it, and the suit, and the coat and the gloves and the boots. He hated not having one centimetre of skin exposed to the fresh air or the sun or the rain. He was like the Boy in the Bubble, that kid from years ago who was so susceptible to infection that he was forced to live in a plastic cocoon from the moment he was born.

Immediately after this thought occurred, Sebastian began to feel bad about it. The Boy in the Bubble definitely had it worse.

“OK, so,” Bennet said, still smacking his lips over that cookie, “the reason we’re all here.”

“Actually, the Plague Doctor should call this meeting to order before we go any further,” Ulysses said.

“Of course, of course,” said Bennet, and everyone looked to Sebastian expectantly.

He hated this bit. “Uh, I hereby call this gathering to order.”

Everyone nodded.

“Well done,” said Kimora.

“That was a good one,” said Tarry.

“Uh,” said Forby, which was a pretty good endorsement on his part.

“Thank you, Plague Doctor,” Bennet said. “So, when we all first got together, it was to share our feelings regarding Darquesse, and what it meant to have witnessed the actions of a god. And those feelings are still being shared, because they grow and they evolve over time.”

“Yes, they do,” Lily chimed in.

“But things have changed for our little group,” Bennet continued. “The Plague Doctor travelled to an alternate dimension on our behalf – a dimension filled with Faceless Ones, no less – found Darquesse, and brought her back to us. This is, obviously, wonderful, but also terrifying.”

Kimora raised her hand. “I, personally, am terrified.”

“Thank you, Kimora. I think it’s safe to say that we’re all a little worried about having a murderous god living among us.”

“Is she?” said Ulysses. “Among us, I mean. She’s been sitting in Lily’s spare room, staring at the wall, ever since she returned.”

“The point is,” Bennet responded, “she’s here. And we have one person to thank for that. Plague Doctor, we have been talking, the others and I, and we have come to the realisation that what you have done is nothing short of a miracle.”

“Well,” Sebastian said, “I don’t know about that …”

“You found her,” said Bennet. “You brought her back. We think that makes you the First Apostle of Darquesse.”

“What? Apostle?”

“You don’t like the title?” Lily said. “What would you prefer? I suggested Pope.”

“I’m … I’m not a pope.”

“Prophet, maybe?” Kimora said, and frowned. “Does that mean we would be worshipping you, too?”

“No,” Sebastian said quickly. “No, you shouldn’t. I’ve seen how you worship people. It’s creepy.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but apparently no one was in a joking mood.

“But you must be something,” Ulysses said. “A High Priest, perhaps.”

“Or maybe we should all be dressing like you,” said Tarry. “Is that why you wear those clothes? Should all devout followers of Darquesse be Plague Doctors?”

“That’s not why I wear this.”

“Should we lose our names?” Forby asked.

“My name isn’t lost.”

“So the Plague Doctor is your actual taken name?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Obviously, you have a connection with Darquesse,” said Lily. “Maybe you didn’t realise it. Maybe she was reaching out to you in ways we don’t yet understand, telling you to wear a suit that would let you find her, to call yourself by that name, to—”

“Sebastian,” Sebastian blurted. “Sebastian Tao. That’s my name.”

They stared at him.

“Sebastian,” said Bennet.

“Yes.”

“You don’t look like a Sebastian.”

“I’m wearing a mask so you wouldn’t know, though, would you?”

Bennet took a seat, and a moment. “Sebastian,” he said again, slowly.

“I’ll ask you not to tell anyone,” Sebastian said. “Even if you had people to tell, which you probably don’t. But just … yeah. Don’t reveal my name to anyone.”

“Why not?”

Sebastian hesitated. “I can’t tell you. But it’s important that I stay anonymous.”

Ulysses scratched his beard thoughtfully. “You in trouble, Sebastian?”

Kimora’s eyes widened. “Is that it? Are you in danger?”

“I’m perfectly safe,” Sebastian responded. “You don’t have to worry about me. But I do have a mission. The first part of that mission was to find Darquesse and bring her home.”

“What’s the second part?”

“To convince her to help us.”

Bennet sat forward. “With what?”

Sebastian didn’t answer immediately.

“You’ve seen the future,” Bennet said. “You have, haven’t you? You’ve seen what’s coming.”

This wasn’t a good idea. Sharing that information was not the smart thing to do. And yet Sebastian’s mouth wouldn’t stay closed. Finally, he was telling someone. Finally, he was sharing his burden. “I’ve seen what’s coming,” he said. “I can’t tell you what it is. I wish I could. I really do. But the success of my mission – the fate of the world – depends on me keeping this secret.”

“So … so Darquesse really is going to save us, then?” Forby said.

“But if she saves us,” said Lily, “does that means bad things are coming?”

“Oh, yes,” said Sebastian.

Ulysses blinked. “But we have Darquesse, so whatever happens, and I’m fine with Sebastian not telling us what that is, she’ll protect us. Right?”

Sebastian nodded. “Hopefully.”

Now they all frowned at him.

“What do you mean, hopefully?” Bennet asked.

“Well, I just … I just mean that I don’t know. I hope she’ll help us.”

“Didn’t you see her helping us in your vision?”

“It’s not quite as simple as that.”

“So you didn’t see her helping us.”

“No,” Sebastian admitted.

“But of course she’ll help us!” Lily said. “She’s Darquesse!”

“Um …” Forby said. “The last time Darquesse was here, she tried to murder the entire planet.”

Lily gasped and pointed. “Blasphemer!”

“Is it blasphemy if it’s true?” Kimora asked.

“I don’t think it is,” said Ulysses.

“Well, OK,” said Lily, “maybe not blasphemy, but … You’ve got to be more supportive, Forby. We’ve been worshipping Darquesse for years now, and we can’t just turn round and say, yeah, she’s not that great and she did try to kill us all.”

“But she did,” he argued.

“That’s not the point, though!”

“Then what is the point?”

“I don’t know!” Lily cried.

Bennet got to his feet. “OK, listen, everyone. We all started worshipping Darquesse for our own reasons. I started worshipping because I saw what she could do and I realised she was a god. And what do you do with gods?”

“Worship them?” Forby suggested.

“You worship them, exactly,” Bennet said. “And that’s what I did. I was shown just how insignificant I truly was and I’ll admit it … I was lost. I floundered. Praying to this god we all found … it was suddenly the only thing that made sense any more. It was the only thing that got me balanced again. So that’s why I worship her. In a vast and uncaring universe, she’s given my life meaning. We all have similar stories. We may have come from different directions, but we’re all on the same journey now.

“The thing is, we’ve never actually discussed what it’d mean to actually bring her back. Not really. Not seriously. Because the fact is she’s a terrible god. I don’t mean terrible as in crappy, but terrible as in great and terrible. Her wrath is terrible to behold. That kinda thing. She’s not benevolent. She doesn’t care for the people who pray to her. I mean, she’s been sitting in Lily’s spare room for three months and she hasn’t said one word to any of us. She hasn’t even blinked.”

“Not blinking doesn’t mean she doesn’t care,” Lily said weakly.

“We should be honest with ourselves,” said Bennet. “We never thought she’d actually come back, did we?”

They all looked at each other. Guiltily.

“Of course we didn’t,” Bennet continued. “And that was fine. That was perfect, in fact. Our god was missing, which meant we could project whatever fantasy we wanted on to her. There was no way of disproving anything we said, and she had no way of disappointing us. But now she’s back, and I think it’s fair to say that we don’t have the first idea what to do with her.”

Forby spoke up. “Maybe the Plague – sorry – maybe Sebastian could, like, ask her.”

“Oooh, good idea,” said Tarry.

They were all looking at Sebastian again. Finally, he sighed, and stood. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll try.”

He went upstairs, to the spare room. He knocked, then gently pushed open the door and stepped in.

Darquesse sat in mid-air, hovering above the carpet, legs folded beneath her. Her eyes were open, her gaze resting somewhere beyond the wall.

“Hi,” Sebastian said.

As usual, she ignored him.

Chapter 7.

If, as a structure, the High Sanctuary was the embodiment of the modern sorcerer – strong, noble, and a beacon of positivity and good intentions – then the Dark Cathedral was that sorcerer’s shadow – powerful, merciless, and a balefire of intimidation and sinister intent.

They glared at each other – the High Sanctuary, planted securely in the middle of the Circle; the Dark Cathedral, perched on the east side of the zone like a great, sharp-taloned bird – and sometimes it seemed to Valkyrie that they were silently battling for the soul of Roarhaven, a city of wonder and magic that appeared to be always teetering on the edge of isolationism and paranoia.

But that was only if the High Sanctuary did symbolise all those wonderful qualities of the modern sorcerer. Valkyrie was not so sure that it did any more. Under the leadership of Supreme Mage Sorrows, Sanctuaries around the world were getting increasingly heavy-handed with those sorcerers who didn’t fall in line. China would no doubt argue that a tougher approach to such a lofty ideal – to protect the mortals from sorcerers who would do them harm – was absolutely necessary in a world shaken again and again by the threat of unimaginable horrors. Valkyrie wasn’t sure if she agreed – but then Valkyrie wasn’t sure of much any more.

There were still bruises on her abdomen from the bullets Victoria Leigh had fired into her. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to kill her, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Violence was now such a part of Valkyrie’s life that she barely trembled afterwards. Only in extreme cases would the shakes become apparent. In the old days, she’d break down after a fight as the last remaining jolts of adrenaline spiked through her system.

Still alive, that voice in Valkyrie’s head would say. Still alive.

But she was now so numb to it all that she rarely shed a tear despite the damage she endured. Despite the damage she inflicted.

Three months earlier, she’d been beaten almost to death in a jail cell in the depths of the High Sanctuary. Bones broken. Organs damaged. Massive internal trauma. A doctor had fixed some of it, but then she’d latched on to his magic, replicating it, improving on it. She’d healed herself while he watched in disbelief.

Maybe that was it. Maybe the fact that she could heal any injury so long as there was a healer to latch on to, maybe that was dulling her to the dangers she faced.

“Million miles away,” Skulduggery said.

Valkyrie looked up. “What?”

“I said you’re a million miles away. Is everything OK?”

They were in the Bentley, deep in the underground car park beneath the High Sanctuary.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, sorry. Miles away, you’re right.”

They got out. Skulduggery wasn’t wearing his façade, but she knew he was looking at her funny.

“Just thinking about punching people,” Valkyrie said as they walked for the elevator tiles. “I’ve hit so many people down through the years, I think I might be getting kind of … sick of it.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“Probably not the best attitude to have with the amount of fights we get into.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “But this has been building in you for a while, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose. I’m not … I’m not turning into a pacifist, am I?”

“Nothing wrong with being a pacifist,” Skulduggery responded. “I like to think of myself as a pacifist.”

Valkyrie snorted. “You?”

“I said I liked to think it. I didn’t say I was one.”

They took the tiles up, and stepped off once they’d settled into place in the marble foyer. Cerise, the young Administrator, waved them through, and they walked the corridors. They got to a set of heavy double doors. Grey-suited Cleavers blocked their way, scythes in their hands. Before Skulduggery could even tilt his head, they stood aside and allowed them entry.

It was a big room with half a floor. Hovering over the far half of the room, over the crackling sea of energy that would fry anyone who fell into it, was the dais that housed the elaborately carved throne on which sat China Sorrows.

She looked pale. Anyone would look pale with this light show going on beneath them, but China looked especially pale, even for her. She’d told them, weeks earlier, that she hadn’t been sleeping much. Plagued by nightmares, she’d said – then immediately changed the subject, angry at herself for revealing too much.

The dais moved forward a little, closer to where they stood.

“The Sensitives have scanned him,” China said, “as much as he’d let them, anyway.”

“I imagine Serpine’s psychic defences are formidable,” Skulduggery responded.

“From what they can see, he’s telling the truth. In his estimation, we have less than a year before Mevolent launches an invasion to get away from whatever sickness is decimating his world. On one level, this information is nothing new. We’ve been expecting Mevolent to strike at us in some form or other for years now. An all-out invasion, while regarded as somewhat unlikely, was nonetheless on the cards.”

“But now that we know it’s coming, we have time to get ready,” Valkyrie said.

China shook her head. “We can’t allow the invasion to even begin. We have no guarantee that we’d be able to contain it, and no guarantee he wouldn’t choose to attack a mortal city first. The fact is, I simply refuse to be the Supreme Mage in charge when the mortals learn of our existence. It would be a lasting stain on my legacy.”

The dais drifted lower, until she was almost at eye level with them. “I have a job for you. I realise that, as Arbiters, not even I am able to issue you an order, but I would appreciate it greatly if you would give this some consideration.”

“What do you need us to do?” Valkyrie asked.

China sat back. “If Serpine is right, and Mevolent and his army will invade by the end of the year, that gives us, at most, seven months. Our preparations will continue, of course, but I would dearly like for all that work to have been for nothing.”

“Meaning what?”

“You want us to shunt over to the Leibniz Universe,” Skulduggery said.

“That’s right,” said China.

“And you want us to kill Mevolent.”

“That is also right.”

Valkyrie looked at them both. “We’re not assassins.”

“I understand that,” said China, “but drastic steps are sometimes required. And assassination is nothing new to Skulduggery.”

“I’ve killed when I have to,” he replied. “But plenty of people have tried to kill Mevolent. Darquesse even gave it a go. If she couldn’t manage it, I don’t like my chances.”

“Everyone can be killed,” said China. “For centuries, we didn’t think that the Mevolent in our universe could die – and then his own son killed him. It’s entirely possible. All you need is the right weapon.”

“The God-Killers,” Skulduggery said.

“The sword was damaged during Devastation Day, and I have devoted considerable resources to repairing it. But our greatest hope lies with the greatest God-Killer.”

Valkyrie frowned. “You found the Sceptre of the Ancients?”

“We did,” said China. “You’ll be taking that.”

Valkyrie shook her head. “It doesn’t have to be me. Once we take it into another dimension, it’s wiped clean. It’ll bond to whoever’s the first to touch it.”

“I realise that. But I want you to wield it.”

“I can’t,” said Valkyrie. “If I’m the only one who can use it, I’d have to be the one to kill Mevolent. I’m not killing anyone. And don’t bother telling me how bad he is and how much he deserves it and how much better off people will be when he’s gone. I know all this. It doesn’t change anything.”

“I’m not asking you to kill anyone,” China responded. “I’m just asking that you take the Sceptre and maybe use it as a last resort – just in case everything else goes wrong. I have every faith that Skulduggery will find a way to kill Mevolent without it.”

“Skulduggery should take it, then.”

“It won’t bond to Skulduggery. We’ve studied the Sceptre – as much as we could without taking it apart – and it would appear that it bonds with living flesh and blood. I’m afraid Skulduggery lacks the essential ingredients. It has to be you, my dear.”

Valkyrie pinched the bridge of her nose. She was getting another one of her headaches.

“When would you need us to go?” Skulduggery asked.

“We have seven months, but time is of the essence. You will be leaving in four days.”

Valkyrie frowned. “And how long would we be away?”

“If you haven’t managed to kill him in two months, come home. We’ll re-strategise.”

“Two months?”

“We’ll need a team,” Skulduggery said.

China nodded. “Take whomever you like – apart from Fletcher Renn and Temper Fray. I’ll need them here. And I’m afraid you’ll have to take Serpine. He’ll be your guide.”

“I doubt he’ll be too enthusiastic about that.”

“We’ll give him asylum if he co-operates, allow him to stay in Roarhaven – under strict supervision, of course.”

“We’d be running the risk of him betraying us. He is notoriously evil, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I trust you’ll be able to handle him if it comes to that. I know what it is I’m asking you to do. I know how difficult it will be. But I’m afraid we have little option. Meritorious had his Dead Men. I need you to be mine.”

“Ask us,” Skulduggery said.

“Pardon?”

“I just like being asked to … you know.”

China sighed. “Skulduggery Pleasant, Valkyrie Cain, will you accept this mission and save the world, pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

Skulduggery put his hands on his hips. “I shall.”

“Yeah,” Valkyrie muttered. “I shall, too.”

Chapter 8.

It’s a hell of a thing, to kill a man.

Clint Eastwood said that, in that movie with Lex Luthor and the first Dumbledore. Back when she saw that film for the first time, sitting with her dad in the living room, trying to hide the bruises she’d got from whatever fight she’d been in earlier that day, Valkyrie had just thought it was a cool line. Since then, she’d had the opportunity for a little re-evaluation.

She’d killed people. She’d weakened, allowed Darquesse to take over, and that side of her had ended lives while wearing her face. Then Valkyrie had regained control and she’d gone on with her life, not really noticing the blood that dripped from her hands. And that was before Darquesse had even split from her and killed thousands. That was before Valkyrie had killed her own sister. All that death – because of where Valkyrie has come from and what she’d been through and the decisions she’d taken down through the years.

And now she was on a team built for assassination. A hit squad.

“I wanted to be a pacifist,” she said.

“Hold on,” said Fletcher, tapping at his phone. “Almost finished. Almost … there. Sent.” He put the phone away. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I wanted to be a pacifist.”

“You? But you love punching people.”

“I don’t love it.”

“You hardly hate it.”

“I punch people if I have to punch them.”

“Does that make you a reluctant puncher, or a reluctant pacifist?”

“I didn’t say I was a pacifist. I said I wanted to be one.”

“You’d be a terrible pacifist. You’re far too violent.”

Her phone buzzed. She read the message. “New York,” she said.

“I heart New York.”

“Roof of the Flatiron Building. She’ll be there in three minutes.”

“We’ll be there in none,” Fletcher said. He took Valkyrie’s hand and now they were in Manhattan, high above the city streets. The sun was bright and the sky was blue and the warm air rushed in Valkyrie’s ears. She wandered to the edge of the roof and looked down.

“What has you thinking about pacifism?” Fletcher asked.

Valkyrie shrugged, watching the yellow cabs jerk erratically through the flow of traffic, signalling each manoeuvre with a blast of the horn.

“Is it anything to do with this top-secret mission you’re on that you can’t tell me about?”

“I can tell you about it,” she said, turning to him. “I couldn’t tell you about it in Roarhaven because I don’t know who’s listening, but we’re fine here. Do you want to know about the mission?”

“Not really.”

“You’re not the slightest bit interested in anything that doesn’t concern you, are you?”

“Why would I be?” he responded. “The problem with the world today is that people want to be in on everything. I don’t see the point.”

Valkyrie smiled, went to look down at the streets again, and jerked back. “Jesus!” she said, hand on her heart.

Tanith Low, grinning and standing on the side of the building right below her with her arms crossed. She walked up the last few strides, her body swinging from horizontal to vertical with that final step on to the roof.

“Sorry,” she said, hugging Valkyrie. “Couldn’t resist. How you doing? Doing OK?”

“Doing fine,” Valkyrie said, giving her an extra squeeze.

“Hey, Tanith,” Fletcher said.

Tanith released Valkyrie, gave Fletcher a hug, too. “Hey, Fletch. How’s life as a teacher?”

“It’s good,” he answered. “It’s nice to have a stable job, and I enjoy helping the kids, you know? It’s a chance to mould young minds. Really set them off on the right track.”

“Yeah,” said Tanith, “that’s cool.”

“I just think of all the ways I’ve changed since I met you guys,” Fletcher continued. “All the ways I’ve grown up. I was a cocky kid, wasn’t I? I was almost annoying.”

“Almost?” Tanith echoed.

Fletcher laughed. “Yeah, OK, so I was annoying. But now I’m teaching, I have a steady job, I’m moulding young minds—”

“Pretty sure you’ve already said all that,” Valkyrie pointed out. This was odd. Fletcher was suddenly – and uncharacteristically – nervous. Almost like—

He took a deep breath. “Tanith, would you like to go out with me?”

Valkyrie’s eyes widened.

Tanith stared. “I’m sorry?”

Fletcher chuckled. “Would you like to go out?” he asked. “With me? For dinner? Anywhere in the world.”

“On a … date?”

“Yes. I know it’s unconventional to be asked out by a guy whose ex-girlfriend is standing right here, but I didn’t want either of you to feel weird about this.”

“So thoughtful,” said Valkyrie.

“I mean, you’re best friends, and obviously there’s going to be some level of awkwardness there, but I’ve thought about this a lot, and I think that so long as we’re all open and honest from the very beginning, this needn’t be a problem. So, Tanith, what do you say? You know I’ve fancied you since I first met you.”

“He has,” Valkyrie said, nodding.

“Even when I was going out with Valkyrie.”

“It’s true,” Valkyrie said, nodding again.

“And yeah, I was way too young back then, but now I’ve grown up, and I think we’d be good together. What do you say? Want to give it a whirl, see what happens?”

“Uh …” said Tanith.

Fletcher gave her what Valkyrie knew was one of his most winning smiles.

“I’m kind of already seeing someone,” Tanith said.

Fletcher’s smile didn’t dim. If anything, it widened. “Is that so?”

“Oberon Guile,” Tanith said. “Valkyrie knows him.”

“I do,” said Valkyrie.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him,” Fletcher said, frowning now with casual interest.

“You’d like him,” said Tanith.

“No, he wouldn’t,” said Valkyrie.

“Yeah, probably not. He’s a good guy. American. He helped us out with the Oregon thing and we’ve … well. We started something and we’re seeing where it takes us.”

“That sounds lovely,” said Fletcher, smiling again. “Well, OK then, so that’s a no from you on the whole dinner thing?”

“Afraid so.”

“That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, you know. Now I’ll let Valkyrie take over, because she’s got the official Sanctuary business to talk to you about, because that’s the reason we’re here, after all. That’s the reason we came. I figured that while we’re—”

“You’re talking too much,” Valkyrie said.

He nodded. “I do that when I’m embarrassed. I’ll wait for you over there.” He smiled awkwardly, turned and walked off.

Tanith looked at Valkyrie, who held up her hands.

“I did not know he was going to ask that,” she said.

“I believe you.”

“But while we’re on the subject – how’s it going with tall, dark, and handsome?”

Tanith shrugged. “It’s going well,” she said. “No labels quite yet. We don’t really know what this is … but he’s a good guy.”

“Have you met his son?”

“I have not, nor have I met the ex. But, seeing as how he’s taken it upon himself to ensure they have a normal life, I’m not pushing for it. What about you and Militsa?”

“All good,” Valkyrie said. “She’s a bright ray of light in my otherwise dark existence.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? Anyway – the reason I’m here …”

“Official Sanctuary business,” Tanith said, folding her arms. “And yet you know I already have a mission. Skulduggery assigned it to me himself.”

“I know, I know. Any progress?”

Tanith glared. “I’m getting there. We’re getting there, actually. I have Oberon helping me whenever he’s free … but it’s slow work, tracking down a weapon nobody will admit they’ve even heard of. It’s mostly research, going from one reference to the Obsidian Blade to another reference to another … I haven’t punched or kicked anyone in months. Months, Valkyrie.”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m offering you the chance to punch someone, and probably kick them as well. It’s got nothing to do with the Obsidian Blade or the Unnamed in the slightest, but it will entail travelling to another dimension.”

An excited smile tugged at the corners of Tanith’s mouth. “The Leibniz Universe?”

“Dimension X, yes.”

“We’re travelling into the Leibniz Universe?”

“I don’t know why you keep calling it that when its name is Dimension X but, again, yes.”

“How many of us?”

“Seven.”

“For how long?”

“Two months at the very most. I’m hoping it’ll only take a week or so.”

“What’s the mission?”

“We’re going to kill Mevolent.”

Tanith stuck her hand out. “You had me at kill Mevolent.”

Valkyrie shook it. “Literally the last thing I said.”

“And that’s when you had me.”

[itsthejuggernautbitch]

Hello, Queen of the Smut, would you be opposed to writing for Endgame!Thor? I suddenly really wanna ride his face.

Hello yes I accept my title as Queen of Smut and I will absolutely write for my chunky boy Endgame!Thor. (Mostly because that’s pretty much the only point of Endgame that I enjoyed other than the gratuitous Hulk scenes.) You wanna ride Thor’s face? You’re gonna ride Thor’s face.

(Also this is WAY LONGER than I meant for it to be, but the creative juices are finally flowing and I can finish all the stuff I need to finish.)

(Also also, I don’t have a general taglist, so if anyone would like to be on one, lemme know.)

----

Thor rarely came down to the village from his little hobbit hole anymore. He’d tried for a while after the incident, tried to be a good king and keep the village running smoothly all on his own. But that wasn’t so anymore. He wouldn’t - or couldn’t - speak when he left his cottage, just came down to the village every now and then to check up on things and went back to his cottage on top of the hill. Over time, his visits became less and less frequent, and soon the Valkyrie Brunhilde was the one taking over leadership duties.

Eventually, it came to pass that he came down only once a month for supplies (stout, ale, beer, any alcohol he could get his hands on at this point). Only when he was in need of his escape did he then come down to the village below. And that meant that he came to see you.

Your father had been the man to brew Odin’s special casks of beer and ale, but he’d been lost in Hela’s attack on Asgard to her horde of undead. Your mother and older brother had been lost to Thanos’s snap, so that left you as the only one left who knew what blend of what went into making the special drinks. 

Thor had tried at first to look presentable when he came down - still tried to maintain a kingly appearance and dress appropriately. But again, over time, his motivation waned. He made his monthly appearance clad in sweatpants and enough layers of thermals and flannel to keep warm in the frigid climate. He no longer even attempted to maintain his physique - the carefully maintained abs and bulging muscles gave way to an extra layer overlaying the muscle.

Honestly, you rather liked it. The extra weight was a good look on him. He looked like the gods of old now - strong and sturdy, not so over-muscular and hard. Sometimes, if he wasn’t too drunk and it was a good day that month, he’d actually try to braid his beard so that it wasn’t quite so unkempt. He hadn’t done that lately.

It was just the usual day for Thor's visit when you first really noticed that he'd gotten quite thick. Let himself go was the usual whisper heard about the town, though you didn't share that opinion. He seemed physically healthy even if he wasn't mentally healthy.

Nevertheless, when he walked into your brewery, you knew why he was there. He had the same order every month - this particular ale, that particular beer, and a lot of it. And he knew that his order had already been filled - he was just making his monthly appearance.

That day, he looked more well-kept than usual, as if he'd tried to give the appearance of having his shit together. The temperature wasn't as cold as usual, so he'd opted for a single flannel shirt and sweatpants. You liked the look, actually. The sleeves of the flannel were tight and his muscles bulged nicely against the material.

"Good morning, Your Highness. Your usual order?" you asked, taking in his appearance. 

"Yeah - uh, yes. And add on some of that mead that your fath- your family used to make," Thor replied, looking a bit sheepish that he'd had to correct himself. "It's been a long time since I've had it, and I've been craving it for some time."

The particular mead that Thor was craving was made from a special honey, wholly unavailable unless one knew who to talk to. Luckily, you kept that contact and you had a store of it available.

"Well, it's been a long time since we've made it. It's been more of a drink for the older crowd for some time, so it's not in high demand,” you said. “I don't have any in stock, but I can make you some if you like so that it will age for next month. And I'll make a couple of extra barrels too in case you start craving it again."

Thor nodded. "That would be much appreciated, my lady."

You busied yourself writing up his order on an invoice sheet. "I'll have the boys bring your order around. Anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?"

"You can stop with all that 'Your Highness' business," Thor said, waving his hand languidly. "I've not been much of a king lately. 'Thor' will do just fine."

You looked up at him from your invoice, surprised that he would be that transparent about his troubles. "You're doing the best you can. You've been through a lot and everyone has a breaking point."

"We've all been through a lot,” Thor replied. “You've been through a lot as well."

"People handle things differently. I have a craft to hone and a business to run. My parents would have wanted me to keep with the tradition," you said, leaning against the bar. You'd tabulated up his costs, but you'd have the invoice sent to Brunhilde. She'd been doing most of the royal duties lately, such as divesting the funds. You made an effort to cheer him up. "Besides, who will make Thor's favorite ale if I'm not doing my duties?"

He grinned at that, the first time you'd seen him do so in, well, probably at least a year. "No one in such quantities as you've made for me."

"Damn right," you reply, mirroring his grin. "Have a good rest of your day, Thor. And take care of yourself, please. We'd all like to see our leader back on his feet."

----

You made Thor's special request as well as a few extra barrels to spare. Mead needed about three months to age, but you had a few magic tricks in your hat. His cask would be more than ready by the time he came around again, and it would be just as incredible as if it had been aged ten times as long.

When Brunhilde came in to pay the invoice that night, she seemed pleased. "What did you say to our mighty leader? He was practically skipping when he came down to the docks for the rest of his supplies earlier. Did you jump him?"

"Hardly,” you replied, snickering. You took the payment that she handed you and gave her a copy of the invoice in return. “I promised to make him a batch of my father's special mead. That stuff could make even old Grumpy Ivan leap for joy."

"Ah, you misunderstand, my beautiful barmaid,” Brunhilde said, taking a seat at the bar. “This was not the skip of a man promised good alcohol. This was the skip of a man with an itch that needs scratching, if you catch my drift."

"I caught it, Hilde," you said. You wouldn't mind scratching that itch, if he asked. You wouldn't ask first, of course. Not your style. "I doubt the king is interested in the brewery owner, especially when he seems so down lately."

"No, you see, you're perfect actually. You smell like good ale and it seems that you can give him a little pep in his step. It's the beginning of something, my lady, I promise."

You laughed. "I do love your enthusiasm, Hilde. And thank you for my payment."

"Don't sell yourself short," Brunhilde sang, waving her hand as she left the building.

----

When Thor came in the next month, much to your surprise, he'd really attempted to put a little effort in. His beard was braided and his hair was freshly washed. He was wearing the same sweats and layers that he always wore now, but they were recently laundered as well. He seemed in good spirits, all things considered.

"Good morning, my lady!" Thor said, barging into your brewery with just the least bit of his former bluster. "I'm ready for my mead!"

You started, dropping the mug you were cleaning onto the table. The metal tankard rang hollow in the empty brewery, like a small bell.

"I see that, Thor," you replied, smiling. "Good morning to you, too. You seem to be feeling well."

"And why shouldn't I be feeling well?" Thor asked, leaning against the bar. His elbows hit the table and he rested his chin in his hands as he looked up at you. He seemed unusually clear-headed and his eyes weren't bloodshot. "'Tis a good day! My favorite day of the month, in fact! I get to come down here and see you."

"You mean you get to come down and get your supplies."

"Ah, the supplies are the motivation for the trip, but you are the most wonderful bonus,” Thor said, winking.

You laughed. "Such flattery! Who do you think you are, exactly?"

"Why, the king, my lady! And your biggest fan!"

"My best customer," you corrected.

You broke open one of his casks of mead - one of the reserve ones you'd saved for yourself or the odd person who requested it. You'd had several requests lately for it to be made a regular drink in the tavern since Brunhilde had wandered in a month ago. You assumed she'd told everyone you’d made it, and now the older men wanted something strong and nostalgic. You handed a tankard to Thor who, instead of downing it in one fell swoop, sat down at the bar and sipped it slowly.

You filled your own tankard and sat down across the bar from him. How strange, you thought, to be sitting across from him with such familiarity. The two sons of the royal family, Thor and Loki, had always been kept at arms' length away from everyone (though they hadn't much abided by that) ever since you'd been young. Your family had been allowed to wander the palace pretty freely since they fulfilled such an important role in Asgard (making the king’s beer), but you'd never done so. It was such a hassle to navigate the palace that it wasn't worth the effort. 

"This is as fantastic as I remember," Thor said, giving a heavy sigh. "We always broke open a barrel when we came back from a great battle."

"And we always kept a special store of it for you," you replied. You didn't like to brag, but you felt like you'd really outdone yourself this time. The drink was sweet and smooth; the heavy honey flavor soothed something deep within you that you couldn't quite name.

"How things have changed," he said, staring down into his tankard.

"Indeed." You reached forward and, in an uncharacteristically bold move, took his hand. He squeezed yours gently in return and smoothed his thumb over the back of your hand. "But it will get better."

"Sometimes I do not think so."

"It will, with a little faith and motivation."

Thor drained the rest of his tankard and handed it back to you. You tossed it in the washbasin and gave it a good scrub. As you worked, you noticed that he seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but thought the better of it each time he considered it. You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts, though considering his behavior so far, you had an inkling of what he may have been thinking of asking.

"Perhaps I'm being presumptuous," Thor started, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "But I would very much enjoy the pleasure of your company today, my lady."

Ah, there it was. Well, you weren’t going to say no to that. It was something that he seemed to need, and being that it had been quite a while for you, it was something that you needed as well.

"And where shall we go? Your cottage or mine?" you teased, only half-believing that he'd outright asked you.

"Yours. Mine is not- well, you can imagine what mine looks like," he said.

"Well, I've got nowhere to be today. Shall we be off?"

“We shall.”

You gathered your coat and the keys to the brewery, locking up as quickly as you could. Once you’d finished locking up, you led him through the back of the brewery, past the casks of ale and beer, to the back down and into the cobblestone street.

Thor took your hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, walking slowly so that you could keep pace. He was nearly a head taller than you, his stature quite imposing compared to yours, and he walked with a speed that you couldn’t match.

"If you had told me years ago that one of the princes would ask me to bed, I never would have believed you," you said as you walked, staring up at him. Really, the braided beard was such a fantastic look on him.

"What's not to believe?" Thor asked. His hand covered yours, keeping you close to his side. "I've always thought well of you. Had I ever seen you at the palace, I most certainly would have before now."

"Good to know. I only went to the palace when I had to. Too many halls to navigate, and I'm not so good with directions."

"Neither am I, truth be told, Thor said. “Loki would usually come find me if I found myself turned around in some back hallway. After he led me there in the first place, of course."

"Of course," you laughed, stopping at your cottage. It was small and clean, if a little bare. You hadn't had much time to decorate with trying to get the brewery going from scratch the past two years. That had been a nightmare, and you were just grateful to have a cozy bed and a fire at night. "Here we are."

"Here we are," he mirrored, holding open the door for you. "After you, my lady."

You led him inside and pulled him into your tiny bedroom. You'd invested in a fairly sizable bed, which served to make the room look even smaller. But there was plenty of room for the two of you.

Thor sat down on the edge of your bed and pulled you into his lap. "If you want me to stop at any point-"

“I doubt I will ask you to stop, but I will certainly tell you otherwise."

Thor wasted no time in pulling your soft leather-and-wool tunic up over your head, tossing it into a corner. You cringed a little because that was your favorite tunic, but you didn't mention it. Kind of a mood-ruiner when Thor's teeth were already tugging at your nipples.

You whined his name, scrambling to get his many layers up over his head. He finally decided to give you a hand and tossed every single thermal into the corner with your nice tunic. You were left with a half-naked Thor, and honestly, that was really all you needed. 

He picked you up and put you on your back at the head of the bed, tugging down your pants and underwear until you were completely naked for him. (And yes, you cringed again when he unceremoniously tossed your pants into the corner.) He settled himself between your legs, elbows on the bed underneath your knees, and set to work nipping at your waist. 

You squeezed his shoulders between your knees as his tongue settled on your clit. He looked like he'd be soft with the newly-acquired physique, but that couldn't be further from the truth. He was still hard as a rock, as strongmen tended to be. He was thick and sturdy like a real Viking, like the old gods in the stories your grandfather had told you many years ago. And of course, that very thought had you dripping on the sheets faster than Thor's tongue could really get hold of you.

He licked the line of your clit, softly running the tips of his fingers along your cunt. You fisted his hair in your hands, careful not to pull and on the verge of failing spectacularly at that. He slipped a finger in, then another, pumping his wrist carefully and timing each thrust of his fingers to the thrust of his tongue.

And, quite abruptly, he stopped.

You whined his name impatiently and sat straight up on the bed, wanting an explanation. He beat you to it.

"I need you to do something for me," Thor said, his hands resting on your hips. "Have you ever sat on someone's face?"

You blushed, although you couldn't imagine why. You were butt naked, whining his name like he was killing you (and he still had his pants on) - no reason to be embarrassed at this point. "You mean intentionally? Without crushing their skull?"

Thor laughed, a rumbling noise deep in his throat that made your cunt throb again. "Yes, intentionally. I want you to ride my face."

"As long as you take your damn pants off so I can sit on your dick afterwards."

"Done," he replied, complying with your request. You couldn't twist around to look down in time to watch him, but you'd get to enjoy it shortly. He settled on his back, pulling you carefully on top of him. "Now, grab the headboard and just keep going. I'll take care of the rest."

You lowered yourself down as gently as possible, until his tongue slid down along your clit again. You shivered, trying not to bear down on his face (didn't want to actually hurt him). Your legs were already shaking as you worked yourself down on his fingers, on his tongue, until you were just on the edge of release. 

Thor grabbed your hips and guided you down to his lap again, sitting up so that you were chest to chest. He leaned back against the headboard, spreading his legs and holding you up at the tops of his thighs until you were comfortable. You grabbed the base of his cock - fuck, you were gonna be sore after this - and brushed the tip of his cock against your entrance. You lowered yourself down as far as you could go, holding onto his shoulders for leverage. 

He tangled his fingers in your hair, claiming your mouth in a kiss. He groaned, moaning your name against his lips as you rocked your hips against his. "That's it, that's perfect."

You grabbed his hips and yeah, not even the least bit soft. That was all still muscle. "You like that?"

"Fuck - yes," he breathed, thrusting up into you. He sucked at the hollow of your throat, grabbing your ass, your breasts, your hips - whatever he could reach. He pulled you down on top of him, almost lifting you up out of his lap so that he could do it again and again.

You kissed him again, hands cupping his face. "I'm so close, right there-"

"Come for me, love," Thor said, pulling you in close to his chest. 

You rocked your hips against his, letting the slow burn build up in your belly until you couldn't fight it any longer. Release slammed through you, shaking your thighs and forcing your cunt to clench down on his cock. He moaned against your mouth again, lifting you up off of him so that he came across his own stomach.

You sat back in his lap, watching him come down from his release as you came down from yours. He panted, leaning his head back against the headboard.

"Hope you're not to tired after that," you said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "We do have all day."

"Oh, I'm yours as often as you'll have me," Thor replied, sliding his hands along your back.

----

Once Thor had left for the night, you headed back up to the brewery. Inside, you found Brunhilde waiting for you so that she could give you your payment for Thor's supplies. No doubt she’d picked the lock to the front door - she’d done it often enough before. She'd also found the opened store of mead and poured herself a glass.

"And just where have you been all day?" Brunhilde asked, a sly smile stretching her full lips. "Hope you don't mind, I helped myself and added on to your payment. This stuff is gold, by the way."

You grinned, taking your money from her. "I took the day off."

"And Thor has been mysteriously missing all day himself," Brunhilde replied, sipping at her drink. "Curiouser and curiouser. You have a pep in your step that I've never seen before."

"Well, if you call a limp 'pep,' that's on you."

"I hope you make it a regular thing," Brunhilde said. "You look like you finally enjoyed yourself for once. And cheered our beloved king up in the process."

"It was lovely, Hilde."

"Yes, that limp gave it away."

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Into the Dark 13/13

A/N Thank you all for going on this journey with me. It’s been a ride from start to finish and your support and kindness as I work my way through this has meant so much more to me than I can properly explain. @lancsnerd, @stevieang, and @golddaggers You three are lovely and you kept me writing even when I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. Thank you especially for your patience. 

There’s more alluded to smut than actual smut in this chapter but 18+ anyway.

2030- The Epilogue 

It’s a bright summer day in new Asgard. The wind is soft and warm and there isn’t one cloud in the sky. You’re lounging in the shade, enjoying a moment of semi-peace and watching Brunhilde chase a chubby little 5 year old through the grass. She has blonde curls and impossibly blue eyes. All puppy fat and coltish legs and tiny dimples hands. “Frigga, don’t you dare!” the Valkyrie says without any real heat as the girl picks up the hose and sprays her with it.

You laugh from your spot in the shade and stretch your back trying to get comfortable though between the heat and being six months pregnant with twins there are not many ways you can actually do that at the moment.

Thor ambles up the hill with Loki, deep in conversation about something. Probably expanding the apple orchards so that the sweet golden apples can start being sold as an extra revenue stream. Frigga drops the hose and bolts into his arms. He scoops her up, his great big laugh making the babies inside you turn and kick at the sound and you smooth a hand over your stomach to try and settle them a little but you know that now that Thor is here just his voice will have them doing all kinds of backflips, despite your protests. Thor returns the giggling child to the waiting Valkyrie and Loki, after giving you a smile and a wink suggests that perhaps, her majesty wouldn’t mind if he treated his favorite princess to ice cream. The delighted giggles as he swung Frigga onto his shoulders and lead her and Valkyrie back to town made you smile. Frigga won’t want dinner but it’s desperately hot and you’re desperately tired today. It had been a long week trying to get things settled in Faerie after some youthful idiot had inadvertently nearly started a war. 

Your husband sits behind you, his legs on either side of yours and lets you lean back against his chest before putting his arms around you. “You look especially lovely today, my queen,” he says voice warm against your ear.  You make a soft uncomfortable noise when a tiny foot finds a rib and sigh, “I’m glad you think so.” The giant of a man chuckles and rubs your belly with his big hands, trying to help you settle the rambunctious twins a little. “You should also be laying down,” he scolded gently, “The midwife said...” You groan in frustration, “I can’t just keep Frigga in the house all day. She wanted to play outside. So we brought out some of her toys and I set myself up in the shade... Orders to get a nap in the afternoon are fine but not practical when you have a 5-year-old. I’m glad Brunhilde made it up here when she did or I would have probably had to chase her halfway into town.” Thor kisses your neck, making you shiver despite the heat, “Well sweetheart, let’s get you into the house where it’s cool. We’ve got time to make sure you get your nap and I’ll have a talk with our princess about taking it easier on her mummy.” He helps you off the ground gently but firmly and helps you into the house, taking a moment to admire just how adorable you look when you waddle. It won’t be long until you have to be in bed entirely and Thor is dreading it. It had happened with Frigga because you had worked too hard and now with the twins you had no choice but to slow down. It was a blessing and a curse so far as Thor was concerned. But, Brunhilde was happy to take Frigga during the day when the midwife finally insisted you had to stay abed and Loki could keep things running so Thor could tend to you. Not to mention your mother and your cousin who were more than happy to help you wrangle your energetic princess. 

Thor stayed behind you on the stairs ready to help you if you needed it. He could see just from your shoulders that you were uncomfortable and you needed some attending to. The bedroom was dark and cool and the god made sure twice, that he had locked the door. He had time. Plenty of it, he knew Loki was going to keep Frigga entertained until at least sundown when it was time for bed. He and Thor had talked about it. You needed a rest and some time to just not make decisions. 

Thor helped you out of your clothes tenderly, taking the time to kiss every stretchmark or insecurity he could find. You were beautiful to him every day but he always had a soft spot for you like this, full of his babies and soft. Once you were bared to him he let you undress him and let you admire him. You weren’t the only one that liked his belly. That had been one of Frigga’s favorite places to fall asleep as a baby whenever he would fall asleep holding her on the couch. He imagines it will be the same for the twins. You look up at him and smile, pulling him down for a kiss that makes him dizzy. He’ll never get used to that and he doesn’t want to. It’s delicious. He helps you lie down comfortably on the bed. On your side with a pillow to help support you. Right now, Thor decides, soft snuggly lovemaking is what you need. You’re too tired and uncomfortable for him to take you another way. He can feel the need in you and as he spoons up against you, petting your belly and fondling your breasts he realizes that he needed this too. 

By the time Loki brings Frigga and Brunhilde back to the house, Korg and Meik have arrived and Thor is helping you with dinner. If your honest, he’s doing most of the work. Though not for lack of trying on your part. He simply takes things out of your hands while he distracts you with kisses. Or with Frigga who’s come home very dirty and covered in chocolate. You accept the sticky kisses and cuddle her happily before letting Brunhilde take her to throw her in the tub. “Loki, how?” you ask laughing. Loki gives you a helpless shrug and an apologetic smile. “I turned around for 3 seconds to help someone and I turn back and she’s wearing most of her ice cream and trying to feed sprinkles to some ants.” You laugh harder and kiss his cheek, “’Please tell me there are pictures?” 

He nods, “I sent them to you, don’t worry.” He notices you wince at a hard kick and puts a hand on your back and guides you to a chair, “Darling, I don’t think the midwife is going to put you on bedrest,” he chuckles, “You’re going to pop long before then.” You shush him and stretch your back as he kisses your head, “They’re just a little extra excited today. As long as they’ll let me get some sleep tonight we’ll be fine.” He shakes his head and kisses the hand that’s holding his, “Aside from tired and slightly miserable, how are you feeling?” he asks a little anxious. You smile up at him, “We’re fine, Loki. We’re all fine and healthy. I’m hungry and my back is still sore but we’re fine,” you soothe. He kisses your head and takes a seat next to you as Thor hands you a plate and a glass of water with a soft smile. “You look better after your nap though,” he murmurs before he walks away making you blush. 

A warm clean Frigga wiggles her way into what little is left of your lap and you cuddle her, coaxing her into eating a few bites of dinner as she drifts off despite the noise at the table. You hold her and kiss her curls and the tiny dimpled hand that rests on your chest. It feels like just yesterday she was in a sling close to your heart as you sat at the table, in this exact spot, still sore and healing from giving birth. Loki’s arm was on the back of your chair as it is now. Brunhilde was terrified to hold the baby for fear she’d break her. Thor was terrified to wake Frigga after you’d just gotten her to sleep. But it still felt just as it did now. The light of the little cottage shining into the dark. 

Tags:  @lancsnerd@innerpaperexpertcloud@stevieang@peachykeen3502@vxidnik, @past-perfect-future-tense, @trumpettay, @buckysblondie, @golddaggers

[unwiltingblossom]

Sigurd and Brynhildr are really the most stark and obvious illustration of the difference in the way Fate/Grand Order handles male fanservice and female fanservice, and how they deal with their male and female audience. Until we get Nefertari, or maybe someone like Actually Fate Shirou, they’re probably going to be the best comparison there is with the least wiggle room of ‘but there’s this’. They’re a couple who were released with a large gap of time between them (unlike Ryouma and Oryou or even Aster/Euryale Teach/Drake), and so exist as their own characters. It’s not a case of unrequited or uneven love, and neither had a harem.

Anyway. Sigurd and Bryn. Let’s talk about how they differ. (there are pictures)

Bryn is an unimportant bonus character introduced early in FGO for a special download campaign because she was popular in a different Fate work. She had very little presence in the early game, and only one rate up for two years. Sigurd is a significant character from one chapter in part 2, and for at least a year I think he’s only had just one rate up. Both of their designs are meant to be fanservice and cool.

This is Bryn’s FA -

This is the famous Valkyrie warrior, cursed to kill who she loves. She’s wearing a Japanese school girl outfit and armor that conveniently shows off her breasts, short skirt, thighs, long neck and one of her shoulders. She’s also in heels. Her ascensions are fairly weak, as this was an early game character, so they just put the armor on her that you see here. She’s posing in an alluring and girly way, blushing at the viewer, as the camera is angled upward to look at her goods.

This is Sigurd, the warrior king/prince’s final ascension. He’s in full mecha armor, with only his face exposed. He’s standing sturdily, looking cool and with his weapons at the ready, prepared for battle. The camera is from above, so that you won’t see much below his shoulders, almost completely obscuring his chest and abs, even  covered by armor as they are. His ascension path - despite being new - is similarly boring, starting with a full fask mask to top off his armor, then showing off his glasses, then finally ending up like this, maskless. The tone and mood of this is completely the opposite of Bryn’s tranquil scene.

Their valentines and white day CEs are deliberately similar, so I’ll show those, too.

Brynhildr’s frozen chocolate (not meant to be eaten)

Sigurd’s return gift (meant to be worn)

As you can see, they are intentionally meant to be similar. Their bond CEs are also intentionally referencing each other, as Brynhildr’s is named after him, and Sigurd’s is named after her valentine’s CE. Thus, the ways that they’re different are deliberate and significant.

Right out from the gate, we can see that Brynhildr is designed to look feminine and sexy. Her final art is clearly geared toward making her appealing to waifu. Sigurd is designed to look cool. There’s no sex appeal in his design or in his final art. The only part of him that is designed to make a husband lover swoon is that he wears glasses and is voiced by a person who usually voices heart throb characters.

But it goes deeper.

Their My Room lines differ significantly.

As you talk with Brynhildr, she’ll mention that she is intentionally avoiding falling for anyone, because if she loves them, she’s cursed to be driven to try to kill them. As you build bond with her, she inevitably fails to resist Guda, and ends up in love by the end, now determined to hold herself off from harming this person she loves.

As you talk with Sigurd, he’ll mention that he doesn’t believe there’s any room for even friendship between master and servant. He’s cold and abrupt. As  you build bond with him, he’ll slowly warm up and realize that despite himself he’s become friends and then very tightly attached to the master - to the point where he’ll compromise his own sense of morality and look the other way if necessary. Love, however, is not mentioned at all.

When Sigurd debuted, he debuted with a line for Brynhildr, and she was given a line for him. Sigurd’s line is him saying that he will prove his everlasting love for Brynhildr. Brynhildr mentions how long it’s been without him, and waffles about whether or not she can now continue to be the master’s servant, but ultimately decides that no matter what, she’ll never hurt the master.

S: “ Brynhildr, is it... She tries to prove her love with that murderous impulse. That makes me happy, but, unfortunately, I will be unable to prove the love I feel towards her if I die. I must survive and also let that love be proven. A difficult thing to accomplish, don't you think... “

B: “Oh, finally ... That person finally came here ... ... .... I understand ...... I just can not understand it. Master, I would like to be your servant if possible. But, if, if ... .... No, nothing. No matter what, Sigurd or I will not hurt you.”

As you can see: just in these lines, Brynhildr’s line is still directly romantic toward Sigurd, but also keeps the master in the situation. And this is worth noting, because a common argument could be ‘oh, Brynhildr  was early on, they didn’t know what they were doing, so of course she was made waifu’. Her line for Sigurd is modern (not counting other stuff she appears in), and it remains in the same tone as she’s always had. Sigurd’s is nothing but gushing love for Bryinhildr.

Let’s talk briefly about their roles so far in the story, now.

Bryn’s first *story* appearance is in LB2, same as Sigurd. However, before that she appeared in a few other events, most significantly JAlter’s event. This is relevant, because in this story Brynhildr is yandere dedicated to JAlter, fostering JAlter/Bryn yuri in fandom for years. In this event, it’s not ‘technically’ Brynhildr who loves JAlter, but a copy of her. She appears in other limited capacities after this point, but they’re not that significant.

Sigurd’s is similar. When he appears in LB2, he’s romantically attached in a yandere level to Ophelia (not important who this is, it’s a girl). Technically, it’s not him, as he’s actually possessed by another being while he’s behaving this way. However, unlike Bryn, who remains yandere for JAlter all event long until she dies, Sigurd is able to escape this and has a romantic time with Brynhildr, which people who like Sigurd x Bryn will be happy to go into detail talking about, as it gets plenty of focus.

Now, finally, their Valentines scenes. The scenes are generally accepted to be at least some level of fanservice between the master and the chosen servant. It may be romantic, sexual, platonic, or familial, but the relationship is still the focus of it.

Brynhildr’s scene is from the original round of valentines, so her scene is shorter than later scenes, and it’s straightforward. She says that she wants to express her love for the master, and so in the process of expressing her love for her hero, the master, she created glasses that looked similar to the ones Sigurd wears. She determines that the glasses will definitely suit the master (the chocolate is not meant to be eaten, it’s magically frozen), because the master is her hero, much like Sigurd was. She does mention that Sigurd is the person ‘she loved’, but it’s clear her feelings for the master are both separate and also romantic.

Sigurd’s scene just got released this round. It’s a nice, thoughtful gift where Sigurd gives the master special glasses that will protect the master’s eyes from strain, damage from light, or attacks by beasts or enemies less powerful than servants. And they’re stylish. However, it’s strictly a friendship gesture, as aside from the master getting flustered by him leaning in close to compute the proper measurements for the glasses, there’s not any kind of flirtation or indication of any kind of romantic or sexual feelings for the master. And even worse, one of the times that Sigurd blushes is not when Guda gives him chocolate - he considers that a matter of course - but when he mentions Brynhildr. How does he mention her? By hinting that they did something romantic or sexual for valentines day.

Yeah, that’s right. During a white day/valentine’s scene with Sigurd, the only romantic context involved is hinting that Sigurd did the nasty with someone else that day.This is the same problem that Paracelsus and Saber Diarmuid have (and what Arthur had, until they retconned it as a half-hearted attempt to make up for having nothing for White Day last year), where instead of talking about themselves or the master during their bond lines, they talk about someone else. Except it’s even worse, because at least bond lines can be excused with the idea that sharing thoughts about an important person can be a sign of closeness (though these lines really don’t work like that). Valentines/White Day has only one purpose. It’s fluff fanservice. The only reason for including Bryn is to say that  the reason people like Sigurd is for his relationship with Brynhildr.

Now, remember that between these two, Brynhildr is the one who is more hung up on Sigurd in lore. She’s cursed to kill all who she loves due to her misery over killing Sigurd, who she loved. She’s further cursed to try to kill Sigurd because of this, making her character naturally Sigurd-focused. Sigurd, on the other hand, died because he was unfaithful to Brynhildr (in a passive way, but it still amounts to this) and has no associated fixations or curses with this. He’s just a normal person. If anyone should be leaking their love for the other into everything and hard-blocking romance with the master or anyone else, it should be Brynhildr, not Sigurd.

Just a quick note - yes, Brynhildr’s master used a command seal on her to get her to believe her enemies were Sigurd so that she’d kill them, but Rin used a command seal to prevent Archer from harming Shirou, too. Command Seals don’t stay in effect when they’ve been summoned again by a different master in a different timeline. The closest that we have is that she’s drawn to love heroic figures, and because of her love for them she hearkens it back to Sigurd. It’s not a berserker Kiyohime or Phantom thing  (which is another kind of unpleasant comparison to make) where they think the master is someone that the master isn’t. The master merely reminds Bryn of Sigurd *because* she loves them, she doesn’t love them because they remind her of Sigurd.

So.

That was rather lengthy, but I wanted to go over all the differences, because on their own, people like to try to pick it apart and downplay it. It’s worth noting that in Bryn’s bond CE it’s more about her love for Sigurd and in Sigurd’s bond CE there’s some indication of romance/sexual behavior with the master, but this is the only time it’s swapped like that.

The evidence here should speak for itself. Short of Nefertari debuting and being into the master, we probably wouldn’t get any more direct and obvious an illustration of how FGO deals with female players vs male ones than this. In this, we see that the female side of the romance has two separate existences - one in the main story where she realizes her romantic subplot with Sigurd, and one in the side story stuff/my room fanservice lines where she’s into the master. It’s not treated as weird or inappropriate to waifu her or for her to have romantic interests in people other than Sigurd despite her love for him being so important to her character and lore.

In the male side, Sigurd only exists to be romanced with Brynhildr. He has a nice little friendship built up with the master, but his story is all about his romance with Brynhildr, his design and FA is actively avoiding having him made up as a husband/swooning material, and even his valentine only has romantic fanservice for Sigurd/Bryn. If you’re not into Sigurd/Brynhildr, you’ve still got plenty to get from Brynhildr, but you’re SoL with Sigurd. This extends into fandom, as you’ll find plenty of Bryn/JAlter yuri and a good amount of Bryn/Guda art and material, but if you look for anything with Sigurd other than Bryn (or sometimes Ophelia, related to him being possessed), there just isn’t any. And don’t even hope to find Sigurd/Guda stuff, because there’s nothing.

And this is just how it is. That’s why Saber Diarmuid pointlessly has his lines all cluttered with talk about Artoria for no reason - when he hates her by the end of F/Z - but Semiramis barely speaks about Amakusa and instead flirts with the master. There’s the odd outlier like the Prince of Lanling who is super dere for the master and Tomoe who friendzones the master, but for the most part, the women are almost entirely designed with the explicit intent of making them moe, waifu-able, and romanceable. The men...aren’t.

And this double standard is pretty vexing, as someone who is more interested in swoonable husbands than moe waifu.

If you somehow don’t believe me about all this, just wait for Nefertari and Haydee to debut. If they’re summonable, wait for their blushing my room lines and valentines scenes where they acknowledge their feelings for Dantes/Ozy, but confess anyway. And if they’re not, well...even Nobukatsu experiences this compared to Nobunaga (Nobunaga having a mostly naked FA, romantic content for the master, and a full fanservice alt character, and Nobukatsu again having 100% of his character entirely based on being moe toward Nobunaga, with zero room for the master in that).

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Rise Up*

Chapter Five

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 6539   Warnings: Swearing, Smut NSFW 18+

Song: I Walk the Line by Halsey

The air in your lungs rushed out when you slammed back first into the mat. Laying there, momentarily stunned, you sucked air, desperate to get some wind back.

Once you could breathe again, you smacked the flat of your hand down on the ground beside you and snarled, “Damn it!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve improved a lot since we started.” Holding down his hand, Matt waited to help you up.

“Not enough,” you sighed, slapping your palm to his.

It had been a month since you’d started training with Matt and in that time you’d been able to master the art of seeing without seeing in your daily life. It was growing easier every day to walk the hallways of the compound without walking into something.

While he’d taught you to use a cane, you decided to keep it for missions when you wanted to appear like the average blind person. Everyone who worked for the Avengers was already aware of your abilities as a Valkyrie, and simply assumed your enhanced senses were the reason you could maneuver the compound so easily.

You could tune in or out the noise far easier than before, though you still found it difficult to distinguish individual conversations in a large group of people.

Scent and taste were coming along as well, Matt getting Tony to bring in a variety of items for you to learn and memorize. By the end of the day you were usually both mentally and physically exhausted from his vigorous and intense training regime. You both relished and hated the challenge. Learning the new things you needed to were fun and stimulating, but the simple things you'd always taken for granted, the ease with which you'd fought, or aimed a weapon, was now so much harder.

It felt like days of old when you’d first learned to fight under Tove’s tutelage. Your mother had not pulled her punches either, sending you to your back over and over again until you learned all she had to teach you.

“Hey,” Matt grasped you by the elbows once you were back on your feet. “The only reason I got your feet out from under you is that you became distracted.”

“I know, I know.”

“He’ll be back this afternoon.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“And you talked to him this morning. Everything went fine.”

Your forehead connected with Matt’s chest. After a month of nearly living in each other’s pocket he knew you almost as well as Steve. Add in the fact you were constantly in contact with each other, holding on to his arm, sharing food, hands moving together over braille as he helped you learn, it had been easy to slip into a close friendship with the man who once called himself Daredevil.

It was like gaining a brother. Wanda said it had been the same with her and Pietro. You just knew each other, got each other, so when he talked about Steve, he did so because he knew what you were going through.

“I know it did.”

Steve, Bucky, and Sam had left on a mission three days ago. He'd fought against going, knowing how painful it was for you to watch him leave, put himself in danger without you to watch his back, but they needed the power the two super soldiers brought to the team.

It was a hostage situation, high valued targets, in which a small team of agents were needed. Bucky had sworn he, Sam, and Natasha could handle it, but when the Intel had come through it was glaringly evident they needed Steve for the job. He and Bucky had the necessary strength and stealth, while Sam had the tech.

Steve had waffled right up to the moment you’d smacked him in the abs and told him to go. Yes, you needed him, but he also had a job to do. 

It had hurt like hell when he'd left, but you'd held it together, kissed him goodbye, and made it back to your room before you allowed the wave of panic and fear to overwhelm you. It had done little good hiding how difficult his leaving had been as Steve had called, wanting to know what had happened. Even at a distance he'd felt the hard jerk and lurch of your heart.  

Stroking your hair, Matt murmured, “Why don’t we call it early today?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’re kind of worthless.”

“Hey!”

He chuckled as you pulled away. “Kidding, kidding.”

Throwing a half-hearted punch at his head, you shook yours. “Have you talked to Elektra?”

He ducked even as he sighed. “Briefly.”

“I'm sorry, Matty.”

The rift caused between them by Matt’s decision to come to your aid had you feeling a little guilty. They had been done with all their defenders of justice bullshit - as Elektra put it - and shouldn’t be getting themselves involved.

But Matt was Matt. Getting the call from Steve, a man he admired for his principles, had set Matt at odds with his girl. Now they were barely speaking, and when they did it never went well.

“Hey, not your fault.” He shook his head as he stripped off his mask.

Even now, he still used it. Said it was like slipping into a different persona. He channelled his abilities better when he allowed himself to be Daredevil once again.

“It kind of is,” you muttered, tugging off your blindfold. “You'd gotten out of all this only to be pulled back in because of me.”

His hand came down on your shoulder. “I chose to come — my choice. I…” he hesitated, then sighed. “I… miss it.”

“Yeah?”

He heaved out another heavy breath. “Yeah. It made me… weirdly happy. Helping people. Taking down corruption. Doing some good with these… abilities,” he looked down, flexed his hands. “Made me feel…”

“Complete,” you finished for him and got a nod. “I get that.”

“I know you do. I can see it every time you're with Steve.”

“So if defending and shit makes you happy, do it.”

“I would, but I'm dead,” he chuckled. The sound, however, was hollow without mirth.

“You don't have to stay dead if you don't want to, Matt. Stories can be spread. Miracles can occur. We're pretty good at that here. Make a story up about amnesia, you've only just regained your memory. We can bring you back if you want to come back.”

“I miss Foggy. Karen, too,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “I don't know.”

“I know you love Elektra, but is being with her worth being miserable in everything else? You tried to hang up your horns once and look what happened.”

“Since when did you become the sage in this relationship?” he quipped, done with the conversation.

“Just… think about it, Matty.”

***

You were in the shower washing away the sweat and grime from your session with Matt when you heard it. There was a jet incoming.

Your heart leapt and “Sjelevenn,” whispered from your lips.

But of course when you tried to rush through the rest of your shower your hands grew clumsy, knocking the bottles to the floor. Swearing softly, you listened to the sounds of engines growing steadily closer as you scrambled to put everything to rights.

Finishing in record time, you leapt from the shower, threw a towel around yourself, another around your head and raced out the bathroom door.

The closet was no longer a challenge thanks to the girls and Matt. Bra and underwear went on without a hitch, leggings stuck to your wet skin and were sworn at as you forced them up your legs with a wild shimmy. Grabbing a thick sweater from the dresser, you struggled into it, knocking free the towel from your head, and found the tag scratching your throat. Ripping it off as you listened to the jet land, you whipped it around, threw it back on, slammed your feet into running shoes and darted out the door.

The race down the hallway was a giddy one. People darted to get out of your way. Some laughed, others catcalled giving you the gears, all of them knew exactly where you were headed.

You couldn’t care less. All you knew was you needed to get to the hanger, to Steve. The wash of red in your mind had you darting in and around people when they didn’t move fast enough.

This too made you giddy, a little giggly, because of how nice it was to have a semblance of sight back. No, it wasn’t what had once been, but in some aspects, it was better. The map in your head of the people and the building was just so much more now. You didn’t have to see what was around the corner with your eyes because you already knew what was there.

At the doors to the hanger, you slowed, pushed them open, getting a bead on the room. There were far too many people in it for your liking. Quinjets sat wingtip to wingtip; equipment scattered around. It was like a damn obstacle course between you and the jet which smelled of heat and fuel, oil and sky.

The hiss of the ramp coming down had your head turning.

Boots on metal. The whir of Bucky’s arm. Sam’s wonderful laugh made you smile, but it was the sound of familiar steps and the singing song of Steve’s shield which had you moving forward.

But gawd! There were so many people!

Why the hell did they land on the far side of the hanger?

You charted the most direct route to take you to Steve. Three steps saw you to the ladder of the nearest quinjet. Once you were standing on its roof, you took off at a run, leaping effortlessly to the wing of the next jet, up over its roof and down the other side.

Flipping off the wing, you landed in a clear section of floor and raced on. You darted around the tail of another jet. A mechanical lift with a large metal beam hung in your way. Pushing hard, you slid beneath it on your knees, and were up and running again within seconds.

The herd of people between you and Steve kept growing, all wanting to congratulate the returning heroes on their successful mission, but you were having none of it.

“Clear a fucking path!” you bellowed.

It was like the red sea parted before you. Everyone turned, took a step back, yanking other people out of the way when you headed for them at a dead run.

You grinned wide when Bucky chuckled and stepped into your path, his metal arm outstretched. Laughing, you didn’t bother to slow down but sped up. When you got closer, you rounded into a cartwheel, pushed off in a handspring which saw you landing feet first on Bucky’s arm.

“Easy, doll face!” he barked, bracing beneath your weight, but you were already launching yourself at Steve standing with Tony and Sam.

“Steve!” squealed from your lips.

“Jesus!” he yelled, arms coming up in the nick of time when you slammed full force into his chest.

Your legs went around his waist and clamped tight. Thrusting your hands into his hair, you sealed your lips to his in a kiss which took his breath and sent him stumbling backwards.

“I… missed… you… so… much!” you said between kisses.

With his shield magnetized to his arm his hand easily delved into your hair, the heavy glove of his suit catching and tugging on your locks in a surprisingly pleasant way. Hidden mostly from view by the large singing shield, you nipped and bit at his lips. His tongue slid its way into your mouth, tasting and twisting with yours before pulling you back by the hair to catch his breath.

“Baby, it’s only been three days,” he said, but his lips brushed over yours again as soon as the words were out.

“Three days without you!” Diving back in, you ate at his mouth, sucking and biting at his tongue, his other hand squeezing your ass when a disgruntled huff came from the far side of the shield.

“Get a fucking room,” Bucky teased.

“We have a debriefing to get to, Cap,” Sam chuckled.

Hefting you higher, Steve walked away. “It can wait.”

“Excellent decision, Captain,” you purred against his ear.

“She’s thoroughly corrupted him,” Tony snickered. “I love it.”

“He’s whipped,” Sam said.

“Pussy whipped,” agreed Bucky.

“Fuck you, jerk,” Steve grumbled, making you chuckle.

“They're all jealous,” you whispered in Steve’s ear, grinning at the men though it was likely only Bucky who could hear you.

Catcalls and whistling followed the two of you through the hanger, but it neither slowed Steve down nor stopped you from attacking his throat above the collar of his uniform. Together you slammed through the hanger doors into the main compound. The clanging sound of Steve’s shield hitting them echoed loudly.

You couldn’t have cared less.

The scent of Steve saturated every particle of air you breathed in. The taste of him was on your tongue. His suit was hard beneath your hands, but his hair and skin were soft. The scruff of three day’s growth of beard abraded your chin and cheek when you took your teeth to his jaw.

“Baby,” he moaned softly, “least wait till we get to the room.”

“Don’t wanna,” you murmured, nipping at his ear. “Missed you. Need to touch you.”

He hissed at the sting. “We’d get there faster if you’d let me concentrate.”

“Am I distracting you, Captain?” Crooning against his ear, you rolled your body into his in an act which had you plastering your fronts together.

“Yes!” he growled, tugging at your hair.

Laughing, you wiggled in his hold. “I know an even faster way of getting where we need to go.”

“Oh?”

You knew his brow would be arched. It always was with that cocky tone. “Yeah. Let me down, and I’ll show you.”

The spasm of his hand on your ass showed his reluctance before he let you go.

Dropping to your feet, you let your hands slide over his chest, figuring out which suit he had on. Not the stealth suit, not your favourite, but the next best. The one with the defined red and white abdomen, similar to the stealth one you adored with its design but in his traditional colours. The shoulder harness for his shield was a combination of smooth leather and cool metal when you slipped your fingers underneath it and gave a tug.

When he leaned down, you smiled slyly, pressed up on your toes and kissed him till his entire body softened before pulling away. Humming your pleasure, you licked your lips to catch the taste of him again, dragged your fingertips down over his Kevlar encased abdominals to his belt. “You want to get there fast, Captain?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice strained.

Looking up at him, you smiled seductively, peering up through your lashes, using your new senses to see the flush on his cheeks, the sweat on his brow, the way he swallowed. You could smell the heat on him, the lust growing. It made you feel powerful to know he was so thoroughly yours in that instant you likely could have dragged him into the supply closet and had him out of his suit in under a minute, but you were only just getting started.

Three days felt like three years. You weren’t letting him out of your bed until you’d touched every inch of skin and knew without a shadow of a doubt he was unharmed.

Shifting a little, aware of the people trying so hard not to watch the two of you and this public display of affection, you moved with lightning speed, a quickness you had yet to exhibit from your Valkyrie powers to any one but Matt, and took Steve’s feet out from under him.

“Catch me if you can, Cap!” Laughing loudly, you darted away.

“(Y/N)!” he bellowed. “You’d best run!”

Continuing to giggle, you pulled out all your tricks, running like a gazelle, all speed and grace and lightness of step. You sought ahead, making sure not to run into anyone.

The heavy booted feet of Steve coming after you pounded in time with your heartbeat. Where once he would have been on you in strides, now, to the Captain’s apparent surprise, he had to work to keep up. When his hearty chuckle sounded behind you, you only grinned wider.

The turn to the living quarters was coming up. Instead of slowing, you made the turn at a dead run, leaping at the last second to push off the wall and keep going.

“One side, Vis!” you laughed joyously, sliding around the android. “Watch out for Steve!” you warned just as the thump of a body hitting something solid and the sharp grunt of your sjelevenn informed you the Captain had not made the same grace-filled turn you had.

“Captain?” Vision questioned, staring at the stumbling man.

“I’m good. Damn, she’s fast!” Steve chuckled, causing the ringing sound of your laughter to wash out when you jogged to a stop before your shared door.

Grinning his direction, you pushed it open and sauntered inside.

“Is this… sprint through the compound part of (Y/N)’s training with Murdock?” Vision asked.

“Something like that,” Steve said, striding quickly toward the open door.

“Would she require assistance with the next one?”

“Vis,” Wanda called out, and you could hear the smile in her voice. “Come. I will explain the nature of what this all meant.”

You could still hear Vision muttering about the strangeness of people when Steve’s presence filled the doorway. Stripping your sweater over your head, you let it drop from your hand as you backed away, heading for the bedroom.

A rumble like a hungry animal escaped Steve’s chest when the door shut and the lock engaged. “That was pretty damn impressive, doll face,” he said. The sound of the electromagnets disengaging preceded his shield going quiet when it settled on the sofa.

“Getting easier every day,” you said, smiling as you shimmied out of your leggings.

“Fuck, baby…” he moaned, his eyes feeling hot on your skin when they roamed over you. “You went up the wall and…”

“And?” you asked, stepping slowly backward in only your underwear as he advanced.

“My blood rushed south. Should have made that turn. Ran straight into the wall instead.”

Bursting out laughing, you stopped when your calves made contact with the bed. “And here I though a little chase would be less distracting.”

“You thought watching you run, enticing me to chase you, knowing it would end up with you naked under me screaming my name, would be less distracting?”

“Alright, maybe not, but it did get us to this point so much faster.”

“Can I expect such a welcome every time I have to go away?”

“Only when you go without me.” Which, if you had your way, would be never again.

“Well… that sucks.”

Surprised, you laid your hands on his chest when he stopped before you. “What? Why?”

His gentle hands, now devoid of gloves cupped your face. “Because I don’t plan on going anywhere without you ever again.”

“Steve,” you whispered as your heart turned over.

“God you’re gorgeous, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours.

Fumbling with his belt, you got it undone and let it hit the floor. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever gotten to participate in getting you out of this suit.” Using the tips of your sensitive fingers, you passed them over his chest and abs. “Alright, how do you get in and out of this thing?” There wasn’t a buckle, zipper, or fastener to be found until you let your fingers drift down to cup the very firm length between his thighs. “Nice to see they at least made this easily accessible.”

“Is that an invitation to have you with the suit on?” he asked, his smile wide when he pressed his lips to your throat and drew them slowly down, teeth nipping into your skin.

“I would say yes, but it stinks.” You didn’t mind the sweat so much, but the scent of gunpowder, blood, and some kind of grease was becoming overpowering. “What the hell did you slide through?”

“Mechanic's shop,” he muttered, leading your hands around to the back of his suit. “Lots of oil. There’s a flap of Kevlar velcroed down, under it is a zipper. Hit the latch for the shield harness first.”

“And just why were you sliding through the oil and grunge of a mechanic’s shop?”

“Ugh…” he hesitated.

Pressing the harness release, you pulled it from his back and let it fall to join his belt. While he toed off his boots, you dragged the zipper down. “Steven?”

“There may have been a… a rocket launcher…”

“Steven!”

“It was a small one, and the shield took the impact. I just kind of… skidded… a little.”

Shoving the suit forward, you let him strip it down his arms so your forehead could connect with his back. Beneath the suit he had on a tight, compression top and similar briefs, both damp with sweat, but you paid it no mind. You’d never known sweaty man could smell good until Steve, until Helgi, but the scent of your sjelevenn was like home and never repulsed you.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, rubbing the arms you’d wrapped around him. “I’m fine. You know I’ve taken a lot worse than a dirty slide through some old building.”

“I lost you… twice on the battlefield. Twice, Steve. Don’t make light of something like this.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, turning around to, again, take your face in his hands. The suit hung around his waist, rubbing against your bare skin in a not necessarily unpleasant way. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I can and can’t take.”

Wrapping your hand at the back of his neck, you pulled him down until his forehead pressed to yours. Taking one of his hands from your face, you brought it to rest over the wildly beating heart in your chest. “Listen to this, Steve. Feel what it was like when I lost you as Sváfa.”

Returning to that time in your memory, you gasped at the sharp pain when it washed through you. Even though he stood right in front of you, flesh and blood and whole, the pain was as fresh as if it had just happened.

“They didn’t think it possible to die of a broken heart,” you whispered when he shuddered, the strange bond between you filling him with your feelings on the matter, “but I did. I did… twice.”

“Sweetheart… I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing you softly. Jaw, cheeks, chin, he placed tender kisses all over your face, finally drifting back to your lips where he kissed you breathless.

The small tilt of his head and parted lips met yours, encouraging your mouth open with gentle persistence so his tongue could rub the edge of your teeth. The tip of his tongue caught the end of yours, teased and slipped around it, sending tingles down your spine and a moan washing from your throat.

Noses brushed together. Hearts beat as one.

You nipped into his lip, sucked it into your mouth, pulling on it with small tugs until he echoed the sound you’d made. A heady moan of wanton desire rumbled from his throat.

Shoving at his suit, you forced the heavy material down his legs, never breaking from the kiss. It landed at his feet where he stepped on it, turning the legs inside out to get the thing off as your hands dragged the hem of his top up, revealing his sculpted abs and chest.

Forced to break the kiss, you lifted the shirt over his head, Steve assisting, jerking it from his arms as your hands fell frantically to his shorts.  Dropping to your knees, you practically tore the fabric down his legs, freeing his cock in one fell swoop, where it bobbed, brushing against your cheek.

Turning your head, you licked the shaft right back to the tip, wrapped your lips around his crown and sank deep, mouth meeting your hand without hesitation, causing every muscle in Steve’s body to jerk with the sensation.

“Fuck!” he barked, sinking his hands into your hair. “Shit, fuck… baby!”

Drawing back, you smirked when you pulled away. “Something wrong?”

“Nope, not a damn thing.” He wheezed a little, the excitement of having you swallow him so suddenly palatable on the air.

“You sure? Wouldn’t want to stress that old heart of yours.”

His hands tugged at your hair. “Not a chance.”

The tip of his cock nudged your lips. Licking the end, you opened wide, letting him slide back into the heated depths of your mouth. Sucking hard, you hollowed your cheeks, pulling on him with every thrust of his hips.

“So good...” he murmured, fingers carding and stroking through your hair. “Damn you’re good at that. Don’t stop, darlin'. Don’t stop. Fuck I missed you.”

Humming a chuckle, you looked up toward his face.

His hand landed lightly on your cheek, his thumb caressing the high arch of bone. “Look at me with those eyes. Just like that, (Y/N). They’re so beautiful, baby. They match your heart now. They show your incredible soul.”

A blush filled your cheeks, one of pleasure at hearing his praise. Running your hands up and down his thighs, you sucked and licked and ran the lightest caress of teeth over the  ridges and veins of his cock. It stretched your jaw a little, but the sounds of his pleasure, the way his body heated beneath your touch, the quiver and quake of his muscles kept you going.

Grunts of pleasure replaced his words of praise until he pulled quickly away, panting heavily. “Not like that. Not yet. I want you.” His hands went beneath your arms, lifting you easily to your feet where he brought you in, flesh to flesh, to seal his mouth to yours in a kiss which once would have left bruises.

Now you returned it with the same amount of vigour. Deft fingers easily snapped open the clasp of your bra, pinning it in place between you with how tight he held you. The ridge of his hard cock pressed into your thigh making you whimper in need. “Steve, please.”

Stepping back, he swept your bra down your arms, took you by the waist, turned, and threw you back on the bed where you giggled as you landed. A knee pressed between yours. Hands returned to your waist to the band of your underwear which were swiftly jerked down your legs.

Warm, callused fingers closed around your ankles and drew them apart, lifting them up and back while you leaned on your elbows. A smile played with your lips. The intensity with which he stared at you, heated gaze dragging over your flesh, felt like fingers on your skin. “See something you like, Captain?”

“Min vakre skjoldpike.”

The words seemed to walk the length of your spine, shiver through your veins and settle deep in your heart. “Sjelevenn,” you moaned, letting your head fall back when those hard, strong hands skimmed down your calves, the back of your thighs, and under to cup your ass and drag you closer.

“Look how wet you are,” he murmured. The fingers of his right hand sent shivers through you as they made their way over to your core and slipped along your moist lips. He rubbed slow circles, playing with your clit, delving down to collect more of your slick and spread it around.

“God, Steve…” Arching up, you let your leg settle on his shoulder while the other fell open on the bed.

He leaned forward, his big body causing yours to flex with your leg over his shoulder. His tongue swept over your breast. Lips latched around your nipple and tugged just as his fingers slipped inside of you, pressing out against your walls in a scissoring motion which sent shocks of pleasure through your core.  

“Jeg trenger deg inne i meg, min kjærlighet,” poured from your lips.

“Baby,” Steve moaned against your skin. “You know what that does to me.”

“I know,” you sighed, arching against his lips.

“Tell me?” His mouth skimmed up your throat to suck against your pulse.

“I need you inside me, my love.” Turning your face, you sank into his kiss.

He shifted over you, his body pressing yours back into the bed, stretching you into a near split when his big palm held your thigh down. “How badly do you need me?” he asked, rubbing his tip into your heat.

“So bad, Stevie. I missed you, I need you, I want you,” you murmured, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Yeah? How much do you want me?”

You smiled at his teasing. Stretched out as you were, you couldn’t even rock up against him. “As much as you want me.”

“That’s right, baby,” he purred. With a slow thrust, he sank deep, letting you feel every inch of him as he stretched your walls and filled you up.

“Fuck… you’re so damn big!”

He chuckled even as his muscles quivered with strain. “I’m already yours, darlin', no need to stroke my ego.”

“Shut up, sjelevenn.”

He continued to chuckle when he started to move. Long, slow glides of his thick cock through your already quivering walls.

“Fuck that feels so good, Stevie,” you moaned, sliding your hands down his back and dragging your nails up.

His face tucked into your throat, nipped and sucked beneath your ear. The roughness of his palms caused your skin to tingle when he stroked them over your thighs. His beard scratched your jaw, the sensation rushing straight to your core. The hand holding your thigh to the bed shifted, drew your leg up around his waist. He sank deeper, bottoming out, sending you reeling when the bliss flooded your core.

“Jeg elsker måten du elsker meg på!”

The rumble of excitement slipped from his throat, setting his chest vibrating against yours. “Tell me.”

Cupping his face, you brought his mouth down. Kissing him softly, small pecks which matched the flex of his hips, you whispered against his mouth, “I love the way you make love to me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, running his nose along your jawline.  “Jeg elsker deg.”

“I love you, too, Stevie.” Stroking his cheek, you let your leg slide from his shoulder to his elbow.

He shifted enough to allow you leg fall to his waist, then lowered himself down, stretched himself over you, pressing you firmly into the bed where he took his hands over your sides.

Burying your hands in his hair, you whimpered when he went still.  

His hips held yours down. His body both restraining and comforting. “I missed you. It was only three days, but I missed you. I missed the softness of your skin against mine and the way you sleep on my chest at night. I missed the scent of your hair. I missed these eyes,” he murmured, placing a gentle touch to your cheek. “I missed your smile and your laugh.” He pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “I missed the smell of your skin, especially right here.” He lifted up enough to rub his nose between your breasts.

“Steve,” you sighed softly, heart full with his tenderness.

“It was three days, but it felt like three weeks.” He linked your hands together, stretching them up over your head. “I want to spend three days right here,” he crooned, flexing his hips and driving himself deeper.

“Fuck, Steve!”

“I am, sweetheart.” His mouth fell to your throat as short thrust started again. He was so deep, and so big, and so hard, it took very little movement on his part to send you spiraling.

Clenching your hands in his, you held on, unable to do anything but ride the wave of slowly building pleasure twisting in your belly. The short strokes saw his ridge catching on your sweet spot over and over and over. His lips pulled and sucked at your throat, leaving what you were sure would be a dark hickey. It would last a few hours before disappearing, aided by your healing abilities, but while it marked your skin, you would wear it proudly.

Heated skin, growing slick with sweat, moved together in an age-old dance of passion. Your body grew taut, your muscles shaking, your soft cries growing in volume as you reached for the heights. Each thrust took you up higher. Drove you on to reach for more when the spiraling coil in your belly finally gave with a snap, flooding your core with ecstasy, leaving you in a state of blissed-out moaning.

Panting, his heart beating hard against you, Steve rested his forehead on yours and rode out the clenching, clamping grip of your walls. Once the wave of your orgasm had slowed, he pulled away.

“Min vakre skjoldpike,” he whispered placing kisses on your face and chest as his hands went to your hips. “Let go with your legs, baby.”

Letting them drop to the bed, you giggled when you found yourself flipped to your belly. “Ooh, kinky.”

Sinking back between your legs, Steve settled himself at your entrance and dropped a half dozen kisses on your spine. “You would know,” he chuckled. Thrusting hard, he buried himself back in your body making you gasp in shocked pleasure.

“Fuck,” you moaned, turning your face to the mattress to stifle your voice.

Steve’s fingers threaded into your hair, closed in a fist and lifted your head. “Don’t, baby doll. I want to hear your voice.” The surging of his hips intensified, driving deep, thrusting directly into your g-spot.

Clenching your fists in the bedding, you nearly howled in pleasure. The weight of Steve against your spine kept you from moving. Completely at his mercy, you gave yourself over to his care, soaking in the scent that was uniquely Steve, wallowing in the way he knew you so well he could play your body like an instrument.

The tug at your hair with each downward thrust of his hips had you releasing a high pitched whine. He let go only to wrap that big hand around your throat, holding you gently so he could run his lips and teeth over your ear. “Missed this, too, doll face. Missed the way your body responds. Missed the way you moan my name. Missed the way you come on my cock.”

His words sent a clutch to your core, clamping down on him as the heat in your belly grew again.

“Just like that, baby. Want to feel you come on my cock. Squeeze it and milk it as only you can. Min vakre skjoldpike, jeg elsker deg.”

When he called you his shield maiden and told you he loved you, you could no longer fight the fire growing inside you, didn’t want to, and screamed out, “Steve!” when his teeth sank into your shoulder. Drowning in his scent, the pounding of his heart was all you could hear over the roaring of your blood in your ears.

You cried out again when the inferno which had been slowly growing raged into life, bursting outwards in streaks of pleasure through all your limbs. Your walls locked down around him, squeezing a shocked grunt from Steve.

Only a few hard thrusts more saw him swelling inside you, stretching your already tight channel, sending you into another round of moaning, screaming pleasure when he emptied himself out and let his head fall between your shoulder blades.

Slumping down, you gasped for air in tandem beneath your heavy as hell sjelevenn. Not that you would ever complain. The weight of him made you feel safe, and, in a way, powerful to have taken down this giant of a man with nothing more than a look and a shimmy out of your clothes.

He shifted enough to roll you both to your sides, spooning up against you with a sigh of contentment. “That was some welcome home, doll.” Big hands traced patterns on your torso, one coming up to gently knead a breast.

“It was fun,” you sighed, enjoying the small sparks and little whips of pleasure his hand on your breast was providing. Rolling over, you let your legs tangle and settled against his chest. When his fingers began running up and down your spine, you slowly took yours over his pecs and abs. “We should play tag more often.”

“Only if it ends with you naked,” he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

Rubbing your nose against his heart, you smiled. “I’m pretty sure that could be arranged.”

“You’re getting real good at the whole seeing without seeing thing.”

“Still can’t quite get a handle on it in a fight,” you sighed, a little sad. “Matt put me on my ass today.”

Steve drew you closer. “You’re gonna get there, (Y/N). I know you will.”

Heaving a sigh, you nodded. “I know. I just wish it was faster. I haven’t felt this… amateurish in a very long time. And we haven't even started on weapons yet, just hand to hand.”

He brushed the hair from your cheek. “It’s a whole new ballgame, doll. It’s gonna take time. Have patience.”

“I don’t wanna,” you pouted, scratching at his chest.

Laughing, he caught the fingers of your right hand and brought them to his lips. “Where're your claws, pretty kitty?”

“Took it off when I had my shower. Left it in the bathroom when you landed.”

“You were in that much of a hurry, hm?”

Laughing, you rolled him to his back and straddled his abs. “Well, I may have been missing you a little.”

“Only a little?”

Smirking, you leaned closer till your breasts brushed over his chest, causing a pleased hum to rumble in his throat. “Maybe more than a little.”

You were just about to kiss him, Steve’s hands massaging your ass, getting ready for round two when you felt it. A hum of static in the air. Your groan turned swiftly into a growl of annoyance.

“What? What is it?” Steve had long since stopped second guessing what you knew in advance of him.

“The bifröst is opening.” Sighing, you flopped down on top of Steve like a limp noodle.

His arms immediately went around you. “I won’t let them bully you.”

“Steve…”

“No.”

Sighing, you tucked your face against his throat. “It’s been a month.”

“Not long enough.”

“Thor did apologize before he went home. He didn’t mean to upset me.”

“Loki didn’t.”

There was a distinct note of annoyance in Steve’s voice. “And he won’t. It’s Loki.” An apology from Loki would be a long time in coming. He would rather make a peace offering, a grand gesture, than every say he was sorry.

“I don’t like how they tried to guilt you into returning to Asgard.”

“You made that perfectly clear.”

“Hm. I hope so,” he huffed.

Kissing his jaw, you made to sit up only to find yourself stuck. “Let me up, Steve.”

“Three days.”

You could hear the pout in his voice, feel it through his touch. “I know, sjelevenn.”

“Stay.”

“If it’s Loki, he’ll come looking for me.”

Steve rolled you beneath him. “Then he’ll learn to wait.”

“He’s not good with waiting,” you snickered.

“He’ll learn.”

When the length of Steve’s erection nudged insistently at your thigh, you smiled. “Yeah, I guess he will.”

Next Chapter

[jaggedcliffs]

Came Back From Thor: Ragnarok

It’s exactly what I thought it was when I saw the first trailer: a fun, funny romp with pretty much no emotional depth.

This is going to go from negative to positive and back to negative:

They mentioned Frigga once. So, like, at least she was mentioned??? I thought she wouldn’t be mentioned at all but at least Odin cared.

Her sons, however, did not care. Good fridging, Thor: The Dark World writers, got some real mileage out of that (what, bitter? Me? No, not at all).

They mentioned Jane once too. Briefly. Without much explanation.

THE WARRIORS THREE?!?! ARE DEAD?!?! WHAT???? WHAT??? AND WITH SO LITTLE CEREMONY AND QUIPS RIGHT AFTERWARD??? (well, Hogun got some ceremony, to make up his absence in Thor: The Dark World I’m guessing)

SIF??????? WHERE???? IS SHE ON VACATION????? At least she’s not dead.

It was interesting the way they combined Angela’s story into Hela’s. I mean, I would have liked her to be an actual goddess of the underworld, but Hela was still super fucking cool.

SKURGE’S LAST STAND!!! COMPLETE WITH FUCKING MACHINE GUNS!!! A great image almost right out of the comics.

Speaking of out of the comics: was that Beta Ray Bill’s face I saw on the Grandmaster’s tower?

I loved Heimdall and Valkyrie’s stories. Heimdall as a resistance fighter trying to save the people of Asgard, and Valkyrie as a drunken, down-in-the-dumps warrior who used to be great, but ran from that life after a scarring experience (a story that’s usually only reserved for men). I really enjoyed them.

Also Bruce. His fear at possibly never being himself again was one of the few moments that had real emotions behind it.

The ending was also pretty great. So like The Dark World in that respect. It was pretty clever and I liked how they tied the beginning back to the end.

I liked that scene with Odin&sons, but...I would have liked more. A lot more. And also maybe Loki exchanging some dialogue with him at all.

Urgh @ Dr. Strange being more magical than all the magic of Asgard. This is the type of magic I would have liked to have had on Asgard from the first.

Was Frigga Hela’s mother as well? Was it someone else? What are the implications of that? And what if it was Frigga? What are the implications of that? What does it mean???

How did Loki survive Svartalfhiem?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What did Loki do to Odin?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

How did he do it to Odin?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

How did Odin escape from whatever Loki did to him?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Most of the characters felt like caricatures of themselves. And by most I mean Thor and Loki

While the mention of frog!Thor was great, and I think the story about the snake and stabbing was a thing from the comics (I’m not sure), that has more to do with their comics relationship. And the relation we saw set up in the first movie doesn’t really fit in with Thor and Loki’s childhood relationship in the comics.

Although “Get help” seemed to fit. That one was pretty funny.

Loki is suddenly totally okay and accepting of his Jotun heritage. Like, I expected it to never be mentioned again, but for it to be re-introduced like this, and for the whole kingdom know and be accepting of it as well...

I feel like the Thor and Avengers movies, and Thor and Loki’s characters in those movies, would make more sense if the first movie wasn’t canon anymore. And the first movie is what catapulted me head-first into fandom. Not to mention that film is the real emotional heart of these characters.

Like, this movie leaned really heavily on their comic book relationships and characterizations, which are very different (Loki’s especially) from their MCU versions.

It also leaned to much on humour. Because it was joke after joke, they had no time for getting to any real character depth or exploration. Or much of any other emotion.

I could also get into the mentions of imperialism and shit going on (seeing as I wrote a whole 15 essay on imperialism in Thor: The Dark World). So I will: I’m glad they talked about Asgard ruling the nine kingdoms through blood and war to show that yes, Asgard is a terrible imperialist entity. Except at the beginning Loki-as-Odin said he was giving the other realms their freedom by doing nothing about them, which is apparently a bad thing??? Because they are being attacked and therefore they need benevolent imperialist ruler Asgard to defend them??? What point are you trying to make, film? Is Asgard a benevolent imperialist ruler that the nine realms need to stave off the evil Other attacking the “weaker” realms, or should it be destroyed because it’s rotten to the core and built on murder and conquer? Make up your mind!!!

Okay, I’m done for tonight. 

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

A Blind Path Home, part 5

Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: I obviously took some liberties with the storyline, but I tried keeping it as true as possible to the canon history. No beta used this time around, so excuse my mistakes.

Summary: It started with a blind date. A date you had skipped out on, but fate had led you right to the man you stood up. Steve Rogers, a man small in stature but big in heart. A chance meeting set everything in motion, but decades later when he is unfrozen, he has been told you have died. But when a mission to retrieve Hydra plans turned up some interesting information, Steve’s left to wonder whether you are still alive. Or is this all just false hope?

Masterlist

“Remember when I made public all S.H.I.E.L.D.S and HYDRA’S secrets?” Natasha leaned against the conference table, a small smirk on her face.

“Good times,” Steve retorted, eyeing Bucky who looked to Nat for more information.

“Well, I went through all the files again with a little extra care,” she walked over to the large computer screen and flicked it with a finger. A hologram interface of the computer screen popped up, showing both men all the files Nat had gone through.

“Did you find her?” Bucky walked closer to the hologram and gazed at the files in front of him, trying to make sense of it all.

“Well, it wasn’t easy. They knew how to hide her.”

“How?” Steve looked over at the redhead, clearing his throat.

“She was under a different alias, but they did have her,” Nat typed something on the computer and another hologram popped up.

Steve’s heart dropped when his eyes met the image in front of him. It was a black and white grainy photo of you sitting down at a table, a HYDRA officer sat beside you. Steve stared at the still of you and recognized right away that look on your face.

Fear.

He saw fear in your eyes and it pained him. They had taken you without him ever knowing and when he had to take the Valkyrie under, he had taken comfort in knowing you were okay. But now he knew the truth, you were not okay.

“That is her, right?” Nat placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder and he had to pry his eyes from the photo to nod at his friend.

“It’s her,” he whispered quietly, turning away from the image. His heart was pounding in his chest so rapidly, he had to take a seat because his knees wanted to buckle in. Bucky watched his friend move to one of the conference chairs with a look of despair on his face, before turning his attention to Natasha.

“When did she escape?”

“I didn’t find an exact date, but I did find a report on her,” again she pulled up more files from the computer and displayed them via hologram.

Bucky crossed his arm against his chest and read over the report in front of him. A few minutes later, he let out a deep exhale. “They were going to kill her.”

Steve snapped his head up, “They were going to what!”

“After you were presumed dead, there was an order to end her life,” Bucky sighed into his hand and flicked the information away with disgust “But they didn’t, Steve.”

“How do we know that!” Steve argued lifting himself out of the chair, his eyes flickered from Bucky to Nat.

She smiled and raised an eyebrow at the man, “Augustine Oberst, he was the one that helped her escape.”

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, his bags packed for the trip to Brazil where Augustine Oberst’s only son was alive and could very well be the key to finding you. Or at least answer some questions, possibly give a lead to where you could be. If you were still alive.

The handsome blond sighed, trying his hardest to hold on to the fading hope he had. His fingers stroked the front of the blue photo album in his lap, working their way to the edge of the book. He slowly opened the cover and the very first photo he saw brought a smile to his face. Steve pulled it out of the clear pocket and held it up to his face.

It was the one of the last photos taken of him before the serum. The photographer was Rose, who had just gotten the Kodak 35 Rangefinder and she had asked if she could take photos of the pair of you. Steve wasn’t too keen on it, but he saw how excited you were, so he went with it. Rose had taken at least a dozen photos, but when she brought the prints over to the apartment a few days later, it was his favorite of the bunch.

The two of you were sitting on a park bench, under a large oak tree. His hand was settled around your shoulder, your head leaned against his shoulders. The still was taken from behind, the sun was beaming down on the two of you, lighting your figures up perfectly.

Shutting his eyes, he could feel the sun from that day on his face. The feel of your head against his shoulder, the smell of green grass in his nose. He remembered that day so perfectly, the blissfulness of sitting on that bench, fingers entangled with yours.

Now you were like a ghost he could never see, but he felt you. Not a day had gone by, since he had woken up that he didn’t think of you or the years he spent loving you.

Opening his eyes, a guilt washed over him, like a cold ocean wave. Steve  hated thinking about those good times, because it only reminded him of what he had lost. If he had not been so hell bent on joining the war, things could have been different. If he had just said no to the serum, how different his life could have been. His mind flickered back to that very day and he allowed himself a smile, because he remembered how anxious you were. Steve always thought you were cute when you turned into a puddle of nerves and that day, you were the cutest girl around.  

You stood in front of Steve, listening to him reassure you. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be fine.”

“I’m scared, Steve,” you placed a hand on his bare shoulder and tried your best to give him a smile.

“Ah, come on love. You know me, I’m always fine,” Steve placed a hand on your face and caressed his thumb against your cheek.

You nodded and pressed your forehead against his, “I love you, Rogers.”

Your husband grinned and kissed you softly against the lips, “You’ll love me even more when this is all over.”

“Never,” you chuckled pulling from him. “I don’t think it’s possible to love you more than I do right now, standing right here in front of all these people. Who are staring quite rudely.”

Steve laughed and looked over to Dr. Erskine, who asked if he was ready. Taking a deep breath, he nodded and turned back to you. “It’s time.”

Holding back tears, you pressed a hard kiss onto his lips. And when Peggy Carter appeared at your side, offering to walk with you up to the viewing booth, you followed her up the stairs. Once at the top, you stopped and gave Steve a long hard look. Desperately you tried to memorise the lines of his face and the way he smiled warmly up at you as he laid down onto the table.

“He’ll be fine,” Peggy explained politely with a smile, motioning for you to follow her.

“He better be,” you said quietly, stepping into the viewing room. “We have plans.”

You walked over to the glass window and pressed a hand to it, Peggy watched the way you stared intently down at Steve as Dr. Erskine started talking into a microphone, he called Steve “the subject” and it made you wince. Peggy touched your elbow and pulled you back toward the seats, her smile was meant to relax you, but you sat down with a bundle of nerves. Dr. Erskine counted down from 5 then Howard Stark started to turn the handle to start the procedure. You held back a gasp as the table Steve was on moved up and entrapped him in some sort of capsule. A moment later, a blinding light started to rise throughout the room, your eyes screamed for you to look away, but you couldn’t .

And then Steve screamed.

You immediately ran out the viewing room and onto the  balcony. Peggy ran after you and yelled for them to stop the machine, you echoed her words, gripping at the railing.

“NO! DON’T!I CAN DO THIS!”

Steve’s voice was loud and determined. So you swallowed the urge to scream and held your breath. Held it until the blinding light dimmed and the capsule opened.

Your heart pounded with anticipation, willingly him to be alive. To be okay.  

And then it opened, your mouth let out a dry grasp. The man inside the now opened capsule wasn’t Steve, not the one you knew. It was like Steve was suddenly filled in, his body was well sculpted, glistening with sweat across his abs. His biceps were muscular and he was much taller, your entire body stilled with shock. You watched the german doctor and another man help Steve out of the machine, everyone in the viewing room rushed out and down the stairs, Peggy along with them. But you couldn’t move. Your eyes were glued to your husband and you saw Peggy suddenly in front of him, saying something, but his eyes were searching for something.

You.

He slowly lifted them to the top of the landing and a small smirk fell onto his face, he took a step forward. But suddenly everything had happened so fast, an explosion erupted from the viewing room and you fell to the ground, shielding your head with your hands.  Shots were fired and chaos rose up in the room.

“Y/N!” Steve’s voice yelled out to you, but you froze in horror. There were shouts and cries, as a few men flew up the stairs. More shots were fired and you screamed when a bullet slicked passed you, Steve ran up the stairs as one man got away. He kneeled down and quickly grabbed you into his now firm chest. HIs eyes wandered down to the now dead doctor and he fueled with anger, but you were shivering against his body.

“Beautiful, it’s me, It’s okay,” Steve’s hand pulled your head up to face him and his heart broke, there was an expression of fear on your face he had never seen.

“Steve?” you whimpered sliding a hand around his neck, but quickly you pulled away. “Go. Go get him.”

You saw an inner struggle written all over his face and you managed a soft smile. “I’ll be right here, go before he gets away.”

Steve wanted nothing more than to  kiss you long and hard, but you were right. So he took off.

A second later,  Peggy ran passed you and right out the door.

You collapsed on the ground, making the mistake of looking down to where Dr. Erskine laid dead. A hand flew over your mouth, tears wet your face. And you didn’t move from the spot, until nearly 20 minutes later, when a warm hand touched your shoulders.

“Beautiful,” even his voice was a tad bit different.

Steve helped you off the ground, his chest was nearly visible through the tight cotton shirt he had on. A few people came rushing up the stairs, wanting to talk to Steve, but Peggy who came in with Steve, pushed them away.

“Let’s give them some privacy, there will be time for questions,” she smiled at the pair of you, before motioning everyone back down the stairs.

Like a deer in headlights, you couldn’t stop staring at the new man in front of you. A panic rushed over your body, was this really Steve? Your Steve?

“It’s me,” he spoke quietly, as if he could read your mind.

Rendered speechless, tears once again graced your face. Steve shook his head and couldn’t think of the right words to say, so he decided to show you. He pulled you by the waist and wrapped his arms around you, his blue eyes looked into yours with such a loving gaze. You couldn’t help but think about how much taller he was, it felt strange to be in his arms like this.  And then he kissed you long and hard, lifting you up from the ground, just like he always wanted to. His kiss was the same as always, just a little more power behind them. Realization swam over you, when he broke his lips from yours and placed you back down. Your hands cupped his face, moving it side to side. Steve was still there.

“It’s you,” you cried out through a laugh. “Thank god, it’s you.”

He pressed his forehead against yours with his hands on your neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Rogers.”

The two of you kissed again, this time with a gentle ease. His body was different, but the way his mouth danced against yours, the slow deliberate way he moved his hands through your hair and the way he taste. It was still your Steve.

Finally pulling away, you smiled up at your husband and the two of you shared a private laugh. 

Everything would be just fine.

Steve carefully placed the photo back in it’s place and tucked the album into his backpack. He checked his watched and realized it was about time. The plane Tony had charted for Bucky and him to Brazil was scheduled to leave soon, so he grabbed his duffel bag and tossed his black backpack over his shoulder.

“Captain, the car has arrived to take Mr. Barnes and you to the airport,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.S voice spoke over the P.A. system in his room. He thanked her and walked over to his door, his eyes scanned his room and he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d like it. If you were alive and well, could the two of you just pick up where you left off? Or would things be different. Would you be a different?  There was no denying that Steve was a changed man, that the man who came out of the ice was not the same man that went under. The real question and Steve’s greatest concern was if you would still love him. 

And there was only one way that question could be answered, he had to find you.

Forever Tags:  @naih-reedus @maciiiofficial @casownsmyass @adorable-assbutt @jade-taillia@fangirlextraordinaire @indominusregina @feelmyroarrrr @my-rainbow-wonderland@myhopeisinfinite @girl-next-door-writes@policeofficerdean@dontbeamenacetotheforce@melonberri @theothergirl2212@superisatomboyuniverse@xloudwhocares @crownie-sr  @castieltrash1 @hannahsakorax3 @my-amazing-nerdyness@darkmystress00 @dracsgirl @moonlight53  @makemyownwonderland @dreamwhisper87  @rayleyanns @trekken81 @imagine-all-the-imagines​

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[omgxiaoch]

➼ tagged by: @squishteen (thank u so much so tagging me i love you! ;u;)

➼ rules: bold the statements that are true for you!

➼ tagging:  @lucifer-octavius-bob (heeey thereee hehehe) @joohoneymoney (idk i thought of u when i made this ehehe) @valkyrie-nee (i really like u and ur kihyun fic ;u;  but then i haven’t talked to you.. i think?? idk i forgot ;u;) @monbebeswish (hehehe i havent talked to you too but i like you too ;u;) 


I am 5′7″ or taller 
I wear glasses at home 
I have at least one tattoo 
I have at least one piercing 
I have blonde hair dyed 
I have brown eyes 
I have short hair 
My abs are at least somewhat defined  
I have or have had braces 
There is something I would change about the way I look (well u can say i want to change everything)

➼ PERSONALITY: 
My Hogwarts house is: Gryffindor Hufflepuff Ravenclaw Slytherin 
I am an introvert 
I like meeting new people 
People tell me that I’m funny 
Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me 
I enjoy physical challenges 
I enjoy mental challenges 
I’m playfully rude with people I know VERY well 
I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it 
There is something I would change about my personality

➼ ABILITY: 
I can sing well 
I can play an instrument (flute, recorder and piano) 
I can do over 30 pushups without stopping 
I’m a fast runner (i run.. alot) 
I can draw well 
I have a good memory for certain things 
I’m good at doing math in my head 
I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute 
I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling 
I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch 
I know how to throw a proper punch 

➼ HOBBIES: 
I enjoy playing sports (only the sports that i like... not all sports) 
I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else  
I’m in a orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else 
I have learned a new song in the past week 
I work out at least once a week (well... almost everyday now..) 
I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months  
I have drawn something in the past month 
I enjoy writing 
Fandoms are my #1 passion 
I do or have done martial arts (taekwondo yeahh)

➼ EXPERIENCES: 
I have had my first kiss 
I have had alcohol 
I have scored the winning goal in a sports game 
 I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting 
I have been at an overnight event 
I have been in a taxi 
I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year  
I have beaten a video game in one day 
I have visited another country 
I have been to one of my favourite band’s concerts

➼ RELATIONSHIP: 
I’m in a relationship 
I have a celebrity crush (well who doesn’t like c’mon we have a lot of oppas *wink wink*) 
I have a crush on someone I know 
I have been in at least 3 relationships 
I have never been in a relationship (oppa im single yeahh *wink*) 
I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them (admitted through a letter..) 
I get crushes easily 
I have had a crush on someone for over a year 
I have been in a relationship for at least a year 
I have had feelings for a friend

➼ MY LIFE: 
I have at least one person I consider a “best friend” 
I live close to my school 
My parents are still together 
I have at least one sibling (two siblings) 
I live in the United States 
There is snow right now where I live 
 I have hung out with a friend outside of school in the past month 
I have a smartphone 
I have at least 15 CDs (well.. not at least.. but more than..) 
I share my room with someone (with my brothers since... im too scared to sleep on my own lol and to save electricity *wink* but i have my own room tho)

➼ RANDOM SHIT: 
I have breakdanced 
I know a person named Jamie 
I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce 
I have dyed my hair 
I’m listening to one song on repeat right now 
I have punched someone in the past week 
I know someone who has gone to jail 
I have broken a bone 
I have eaten a waffle today 
I know what I want to do with my life 
I speak at least 2 languages fluently (three, soon to be 4 lelelel) 
I have made a new friend in the past year