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monstersandmaw · 5 years

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April Fool - Part One (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

No, this isn't a prank. April Fool is the title of this surprise, bonus story. There are enough stressful/un-funny things going on today that I thought I'd just do something nice instead. This went up earlier on my Patreon, and now it’s time to share it here.

This one features a reader who was stood up as an April Fool's, and a certain someone comes along and finds them. I won't spoil it, but it's sfw, fluffy, and features a gender neutral reader and a non-binary monster/non-human.

Length: 2004 words Content: fluff, reader initially being stood up as a ‘joke’, more fluff, and a non-binary monster intervening to make things better...

**************

It was a cliché.

And yet, here you were, standing outside a boarded up bar that had apparently been closed down for quite some while, on the phone to someone who was laughing, with four mates in the background, at your expense. “You didn’t seriously think I’d show up for a date with you, did you?” he roared. Clearly he had never found anything quite this funny.

Your stomach roiled and you fought off tears. “I did, but I guess I was wrong. I’m glad I provided you and your friends with some entertainment at least,�� you said flatly, and then you hung up.

Just to add insult to injury, someone, it seemed, had witnessed your humiliation.

At first you took them to be a tiefling, given the dark, slate grey skin, long blue-black hair, and curling, ram’s horns. Their yellow eyes gleamed in the dusk and they tilted their head slightly with a gentle kind of curiosity as they approached. They had long, tapering ears and, like many tieflings’, they were pierced with gold and silver rings, a tear-drop pearl dangling from their left earlobe and brushing the collar of their jacket as they moved.

“I don’t meant to pry, but are you alright?” they asked in a husky, rich, warm tenor voice.

It was impossible to guess their gender from looking at them. With long hair, a slim waist, long legs clad in dark, loose pants which were cuffed tightly around the ankle, and a black leather jacket that had a grey hoodie underneath, they were pretty nondescript. And yet breathtakingly beautiful. Their cheekbones were high and sculpted, their eyebrows sharp, their eyelashes long as a cow’s, and their lips were soft and gentle as they offered you a smile and came to a halt at a polite yet concerned distance.

“Honestly? No,” you choked, fighting back a flood of tears. And then, despite your most valiant efforts, it all rushed over you; all the years of relentless bullying at school, the loneliness at university, the isolation that you felt as a young adult now, trying to find your place in the world and carve out a career for yourself. All while painfully alone. Ugly, gasping sobs suddenly overwhelmed you, and you broke down in front of a complete stranger.

Warm, gentle hands reached for your upper arms, thumbs caressing gently. “There, there,” they crooned softly. “Let it out. That’s it.”

And as their comforting scent caught your nostrils, you found yourself resting your forehead on their chest and sobbing inconsolably. “I’m so sorry,” you hiccupped. “I’m -”

“It’s quite alright, I assure you,” came their patient answer. They were taller than you by about a foot, and there was a solid, ageless kind of strength to them that you found yourself clinging to with a desperation of which you hadn’t known you were capable.

Eventually they pulled out a handkerchief, seemingly from nowhere, and handed it to you.

“Thanks,” you snuffled, wiping your eyes and blowing your nose. “God, I feel so stupid.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, just a harmless April Fool’s joke, you know? I apparently didn’t get the memo that it’s also ‘stand your first date up for shits and giggles’ day…”

A soft growl reverberated from the stranger’s throat, and you glanced up to see that their yellow eyes were glowing softly in the dark, and that their pretty lips had pulled back to reveal elongated canines.

“What?” you asked, voice sharp with bitterness. “Never heard of a good trick?”

“I am a trickster spirit,” they said darkly, and you felt a tingle of fear in your gut. “I delight in japes and jokes, but this is just cruel. There is no humour here. There is no lesson learned.”

“Oh, I learned my lesson alright,” you said, taking a step back.

Concern furrowed the trickster’s brows and they fixed their glowing gaze on your face. “Will you let me try to right the wrong that was done to you?”

“What?” you asked. “At first I thought you were a tiefling. You’re really a trickster spirit then? What do you plan on doing?”

They nodded. “You can call me Grey, though that is not my True Name. I am frequently mistaken for a tiefling. I think it’s my lovely horns, or perhaps my flawless skin,” they said, brushing the backs of their fingers against their own, chiselled cheek and fluttering their long eyelashes melodramatically.

The ostentatious absurdity of the gesture made you smile, and when they saw it, their own face split into a kind grin.

“That’s better,” they said. “Come,” and they nodded across the street to an ice cream parlour that was open late. “I have the cure for almost anything.”

Playfully, they took your hand and you allowed them to lead you across the road. Grey opened the door to the cheerful, pastel coloured ice cream parlour and let you pass inside first. No harm in this, at least, surely?

“Anything you want, it’s on me,” they said. “My treat.”

“Why?” you asked, rooted to the spot just inside the door.

“Because I like you, and I don’t like to see good souls hurting.”

With a watery smile of thanks, you turned your attention to the amazing array of different sorbets, frozen yoghurts and ice creams before you. You picked your three favourite, and waited while Grey chose four and paid the satyr behind the counter with a friendly smile before joining you at a table in the window.

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this,” you said. “If you’re a trickster spirit, then why are you so upset at what they did? I mean, it was a pretty good prank - lure someone to a bar that’s not even there, and see if they’re stupid enough to turn up…”

Again, Grey growled, spoon tapping on the rim of their bowl of colourful flavours. “There was a time when the whole purpose of a trickster spirit was to teach bad people a lesson. It would begin with a few tricks to get their attention - curdling the milk as it hit the pail, turning their wine to vinegar, rotting the eggs in their store, that kind of thing - and if they didn’t heed the warning and change their ways, then we’d step it up. Hurting good people to get a laugh out of it is just cruel.” Their eyes shone, glistening, and they took your hand suddenly across the table and clasped their warm fingers around yours. “You did not deserve that, and I want to make it right.”

“You’re very sweet. Almost too good to be true, you know?” you said.

Grey’s slim shoulders sagged. “I understand. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you what I am, but…” They shrugged. “You just looked so miserable. I wanted to make the pain go away.”

“How can I believe someone who says things like that?” you whispered, ice cream untouched before you.

Grey sighed, lips pressing into a hard, thin, dark line, shapely brows furrowing as they stared at the table between you. They seemed to be debating something. Finally, they broke the silence, and their voice was different. Gone was the confidence and playfulness, and instead it was soft, crackling, afraid. “I swear,” they began hesitantly, “I swear on my True Name, Locke, that no harm will come to you from me, nor will I allow others to hurt you.”

“Locke,” you whispered. “That’s… That’s your…”

“My True Name,” they said. “Only three others alive know it, and now you do.”

“But you don’t know me!” you gasped.

Locke shrugged and grinned. “I know a good soul when I see one. Trust me. I know I’m safe with you, as you’re safe with me.”

“My very own guardian spirit,” you said rather wistfully. “I always used to dream of that as a child.”

“Sorry I’m late then,” they grinned.

Breathing out all the tension from your chest, you shook your head slightly in disbelief, raising your first spoonful of ice cream to your mouth. “This is perfect,” you added with a smile.

Locke grinned back and reached for your hand across the table. When you did not pull back, they squeezed your hand before letting go.

You ate the rest of your impromptu dessert in quiet conversation with Locke. They asked about your life, and when you had very rapidly exhausted anything of any interest, Locke allowed you to question them about their life.

“What… What pronouns do you use?” you asked nervously, which elicited a laugh.

“I don’t,” they grinned. “I mean, I tend to get called whatever by whomever, and I don’t really mind. I can change my physical form to whatever I like, so I don’t really feel attached to one gender or another.”

“Oh. So you don’t actually look like this.”

They smiled. “Of course I do. I look like whatever I look like,” they grinned.

“Riddles,” you snickered.

“Maybe,” they fired back. “But you want to know a secret?”

“What will it cost me?” you asked playfully.

Locke’s answering smile made your stomach flip over. “Nothing at all,” they said.

“Go on then.”

“You caught me on a day when I picked the form that’s truest to my heart. This is probably the closest to what I actually look like.”

The next words just tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “You’re very beautiful.”

It was almost as if they had short-circuited for just a moment, but it happened so swiftly, and they recovered in a heartbeat, that you weren’t sure you had even seen anything at all of note. They smiled, and blinked a couple of times. “Thank you,” they said, voice a little croaky again. “Honestly, I don’t normally let people see me at all - especially if I’m causing mischief. I didn’t notice you until I felt your pain hit me like a bloody freight train, and then I looked up and there you were, shining like a beacon.” They sighed. “You’re a bit better now though, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Thanks to you.”

They eyed your empty bowl. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

“Maybe halfway?” you asked, not quite sure about letting a trickster spirit know where you lived, even if they had been perfectly well behaved. Even if they had gifted you with their True Name.

If Locke’s smile was tinged with sadness, they tried to hide it from you.

They held out their hand and helped you to your feet, and then turned to wave goodnight to the lonely satyr behind the counter, who grinned back and wished you both a pleasant night.

Locke walked beside you, their dark-skinned hands tucked into their jacket pockets, and their head down turned, staring at the pavement in front of you. A late-night dog walker approached on the same side of the road as you, and as the gentle Labrador snuffed the air and caught sight of Locke, she began to growl and bark, yanking her leash, snarling and baring her teeth.

Locke reeled backwards, stately composure evaporating, drawing their hands out of their pockets. They pressed their lithe body up against the garden wall on their left and let them pass, a hurt and slightly frightened expression on their face while the dog’s owner tried to apologise and drag the animal away.

“Dogs hate me,” they sighed when you were alone again. “All dogs do, and they usually hate all of us. Cats don’t though. Cats love me,” they added with a wry grin.

You saw through the mask of loneliness then as if Locke had held up a mirror to your own.

Overcome with the desire to shelter them too, you reached out and took their hand. Their fingers trembled beneath your touch. “Come back with me,” you said.

Locke’s tapering, expressive ears swivelled back slightly into the sweetest expression you’d ever seen on anyone. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. Come on. Let’s not both be lonely on this shitty day…”

************************

There will be a part two, and it will be nsfw, and it'll probably just be for Patreons only...

___________________________

#exophilia #gender neutral reader #meet cute #april fool's story #monster reader insert #non binary monster #monster x reader #trickster

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tisfan · 5 years

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A portrait of a young man in the park not eating his sandwich

Square: S5 - writing format: breaking the fourth wall Warning: unrepentant fluff, humor, breaking the fourth wall Pairing: WinterIron Summary: Jan takes it upon herself to arrange a date for Tony Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19940161 Word Count 1439 For @27dragons @tonystarkbingo

Note: Apparently I wrote this a LONG TIME AGO and forgot to post it. So, here’s this, and it’s my final posting for Card 1 in the Tony Stark Bingo, so that’s a blackout for me!

Tony was sitting on one of the benches in Avenger’s Park, eating his lunch. And by eating his lunch, I should probably inform you that Tony Stark never actually ate lunch at all. Usually he grabbed a fruit smoothie of some sort and drank it while talking a mile a minute and working on three projects at once. Saving some special quality him time every twenty seconds or so to reflect on whether or not he’d screwed up massively in the last thirty seconds.

So when I tell you that Tony was sitting on a bench, in the Park, eating his lunch, you will understand by that that things are very, very wrong.

Tony tore off a piece of his sandwich and threw it. One of the multiple squirrels that lived in the park came down to investigate, but squirrels, I’m sorry to say, don’t really care much for liverwurst, and while he did take the sandwich, he didn’t actually eat it. The penguin that came by later did, however, and liked it very much.

You may ask why there are penguins in the park, but that’s a secret and I’m not going to tell you. You could ask Director Fury, but I promise he will only tell you it’s classified. Black Widow might know, but she doesn’t like to share secrets.

And all of this is beside the point anyway.

The point is, that Tony Stark was sitting on a bench, in the park, not eating his sandwich.

Jan noticed.

Loki noticed.

Even Scott Lang noticed. Which, if you know Scott at all, that’s pretty impressive. Scott didn’t say anything, though.

Loki and Jan, however, did.

(more below the cut)

Of course, being Jan and Loki, they had different ideas about what should be done. Loki wanted to play a prank -- such as disguising himself as a present and then turning into a snake which might make Tony jump and shriek. Jan was all right with the jumping and shrieking part, but vastly preferred Tony’s jumps to be of joy.

Jan is, you understand, an optimist.

That’s about two steps under being a fool.

Loki’s somewhat less optimistic, but he’s also not adverse to Jan’s particular manner of cheering someone up, which is, either:

-- Getting them an entirely new wardrobe, which means lots of time at the mall, one of Loki’s favorite places, or

“Hey, Tony,” Jan said, plopping down on the bench next to him. “Are you busy on Friday?”

“Hullo, Jan,” Tony said, not looking up. “Unless one of the crystal cages cracks and we have to deal with a new round of villains trying to take over the world, and Madame Hydra doesn’t assign any more homework this week -- I swear, Life Lessons is the worst class ever -- then yeah, I’m free. What do you--”

“Great! You’re going on a date.”

“Uh… I am? With who?”

“It’s a blind date, I’m setting it up.”

Loki enjoyed blind dates; they were never much fun for the person doing the dating, and they were tons of fun for everyone watching.

***

When Jan said she had an idea, we’re given to understand that she didn’t, really. She had more like the seed of an idea and the optimistic thought that throwing it on the ground would make it grow into a grand plan.

“So, who are we setting Tony up on a date with?” Loki wondered. “Don’t say me, because we already tried that and it didn’t work out for either of us. And my father’s already blind in one eye, so the blind date thing just makes him nervous.”

“No, no, it wasn’t going to be you, you’re not right for Tony at all,” Jan replied. Which made Loki angry, because he didn’t want to date Tony Stark anyway, but he also wanted it to be his idea and not someone else’s, and certainly not because he was, in any way, wrong.

“I could be,” Loki said.

“No, you couldn’t, and don’t bother to get all trickster god about it, no one has time for that. No, I need the perfect person for Tony.”

Loki sighed and let himself look around the campus. The obvious answers were there; Bruce Banner, Jane Foster (if for no other reason than it would piss off Thor, and that would be very funny), Norman Osbourn. All the scientists and people that Tony had something in common with.

“What about Barnes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why not--” Barnes was an athlete, not remotely science-y as far as Loki knew, and only spoke to Widow and Rogers. It would be a delightful disaster. Quite a bit of fun to watch. From a distance.

And maybe with some added trickery along the way.

Jan’s eyebrows went up. “I always worry when you’re right about something.”

Loki just gave her a bland smile. Defending his suggestion would just talk her out of it, and Loki wanted to see the fireworks.

He always did like fireworks.

***

By the time Friday night rolled around, he was fine. Perfectly fine, thank you very much. Not the least bit worried about who he’d been set up with, or what they were doing, or any of it.

He still didn’t know who the date was, and that didn’t bother him, either.

And by fine, I mean, very close to, but not yet having a complete panic attack in Pym’s classroom. Which was not quite the exactly the polar opposite of fine.

“It would help if I even knew how to dress,” Tony told Jan.

“Is there talking going on in my class, because there should not be talking, only science!”

Tony slumped down in his desk, pulled out his phone and tapped angrily at the screen. WHO IS IT?

You look fine, Tony.

“Of course I look fine, you’re the one that picks my wardrobe, I’m just--” Tony shrieked as his phone shrank down to the size of a Barbie toy.

“No talking, Mr. Stark,” Pym said. “If you miscalculate while using Pym particles, you could not only kill yourself, but destroy the very fabric of the universe.”

“So, like, no pressure,” someone said from the back of the class. Tony craned to look at who the joker was as everyone else laughed.

Barnes flicked him a two metal fingered wave and grinned.

Oh, oh, oh. Crap.

“Is it Barnes?” Tony hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

How the heck had Jan convinced Bucky Barnes, hero of WW2, normally a cohort with Tony’s damn father and also best friends with Tony’s damn rival, to go on a blind date?

“Relax, Tony,” Jan said. “It’ll be fine, I know what I’m doing.”

Now, that should have been reassuring, when your best friend for most of your life tells you that she knows what she’s doing. But Tony had said the same thing on any number of occasions, and only half of those had blown up in his face, slammed him into a wall, or one time, put him through a plate glass window and a fourteen story fall.

Fifty percent was… not good odds.

***

Bucky knocked on the door exactly four minutes after he was supposed to be there. Jan had told him that Tony tended to be late for just about everything, but Bucky didn’t want to be too late and make Tony think Bucky didn’t actually want to go on the date.

“Wha-- oh, Barnes, it-- should I--” Tony blinked a few times and then, “You look… scruffy.”

Bucky was wearing his second favorite pair of identical black jeans with the knees torn around and the strategic tears in the upper thigh.

In answer to Tony’s comment, he held up his skateboard. “Jan said, you uh… had a hoverboard? An’ maybe you’d like to, you know, hit the ramps. An’ then maybe we could grab a slice and some soda at the quad?”

Tony stared for a few seconds, which was really only a few seconds, but to Bucky, it seemed like the entire universes could have formed, and stars died.

“Um. Skateboarding. Yes, yes, I can do that.”

“Great.”

“Great!” Tony continued to stand there for a moment, then -- “right, let me get my board, why don’t you-- come in?”

Bucky let the door slide shut behind him.

It was going to be a great date.

And I’m happy to say-- it was.

Even when Loki did convince Noir Thor to make it rain, the two of them cuddled together under the awning of the Club Galaxy with its music throbbing from inside, and enjoyed each other’s company.

Much to Jan’s satisfaction.

Because Jan… is always right.

Even when it just means she yells louder.

#tonystarkbingo2019 #tony stark x bucky barnes #bingo fill #fluff #avenger's academy fic

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okuraiani · 5 years

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Mitsuhide’s Route Live Blog

Okay, I will probably delete this once I finish his route, but somehow I’d like to share my thoughts on his route with you guys o(*°▽°*)o I will try not to get too specific and you don’t have to mind if you’re not interested, since these are simply my thoughts on the things happening! Though, if anyone has question concerning my remarks (and thus Mitsuhide’s route), please feel free to ask me anything! ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

Episode 1 So Hideyoshi is some kind of fashion guru now? Hey, who’s vassal is that, trying to kill off Ranmaru?! Somehow, Mitsuhide really has a talent for irritating Hideyoshi... seriously... Protecting a cutie is always proof of a good person. Wow, Mitsuhide that’s... I don’t know if he’s praising MC or making fun of her. Probably both. But I guess he’s worried for her. Oooh, guess who! Who wouldn’t appreciate encountering beautiful people! Especially those who are not out to kill everyone who as much as look at them. Of course, Sasuke shouldn’t be left out. As well as his BFF~ And of course Sasuke has to be the messenger of bad news... Masamune is being his usual self, huh? Uselessly excited about the prospect of war. Okay, the other guys are equally bad. Is that Ieyasu calling MC stupid in a roundabout way? Oh well, but at least Mitsunari is genuinely concerned for her... Mitsuhide, stop reading MC’s mind already lol Awww, Ranmaru, the cutie! He’d be someone I’d instantly befriend~ Uh, I sense some kind of (un)pleasant surprise... This isn’t Mitsunari’s route, so I guess the squad in the rear is certainly not... Told ya... I had the bad feeling way before you MC lol And of course, Mitsuhide has to tell her the things she doesn’t want to her at all... On the other hand... It’s totally plausible that the enemy would go for Nobunaga’s right and left hand... Oh dear... Ooooh, I sense some kind of deep-rooted trauma or something similar! Aaah, I already love that poor trickster to the point of no return! Oh, yeah, that could have been me. I’m not good with blood. And I guess there’s A LOT! That screams betrayal to me, but let’s keep calm and watch... Moreover, hasn’t anyone taught you guys not to trust strange men?! Aww, Mitsuhide is such a good guy~ Oh... ‘Kay... That... THAT surprised me. Really. And it hurts my heart a little. Heck, who am I kidding? A lot, a LOT! Why is everyone always assuming MC’s going to run away? Well... I can’t exactly hold it against them... Hideyoshi not trusting MC is not new, so I wonder why it surprises me to see Mitsuhide not trusting her... I mean, he normally reads her like an open book... Wow, that’s... a LOT! And knowing Mitsuhide, his guidance will turn out pretty spartan. But I guess I’d be happy about his attention... Probably... Maybe...

Episode 2 And we’re back to teasing lol But I guess being taught about the Sengoku era by a Sengoku warlord is not THAT bad, right? Urgh, I take that back. Why a test, Mitsuhide? Seriously? And THEN you’re surprised about her answers? Although, come on, ‘Nobu-tan’ sounds incredibly cute~ Yes, with all that history stuff my head would explode as well. Or maybe implode. Can’t decide. Okay, is it just me or is Mitsuhide surprisingly touchy-feely? That man will be the death of me, I swear! Says he doesn’t trust MC but takes her metaphor seriously! Why does he have to be so cute, dammit?! Nooo, MC, why are you running away?? Of course, he does that to tease her, what else... Yup, telling him he’s mean gives him no damage whatsoever lol Yay, two angels to the rescue~ Yeah, you tell him Ranmaru lol NO! Don’t! Get Mitsunari away from the tea! Thank god Ranmaru is such a good boy~ If this keeps going they can have a party in MC’s room lol Pfft, I KNEW it! Tell me what you want, this is a party! I’m surprised though Hideyoshi wasn’t the first to burst into the room lol Omg, Ieyasu is too precious lol I’d love some spicy pickles, too! So... Mitsuhide is either observing them or he’s displeased right now... Well, Mitsunari is just as surprised as I am... I tell you, Mitsuhide is secretly a ninja! Maybe... Yep, they are like cats and dogs, but they still love each other. Aww, big brother Hideyoshi is the best, really! Go for it, girl! Otherwise, his route would be meaningless lol Se-Self-defense skill...? A-As in... Body contact?? Oh dear... Oh no, don’t evade, please~ Yeah, tell her first! You got my hopes up... Oh? Suddenly I remember this one certain picture from the manga... Wow, he really IS spartan... MC’s level of fear is kinda not in the right order, I think? You can’t fool me, you sly fox, hah! Wow, that was low... A horse several times smarter than MC? Noo, I don’t think so. It’s literally impossible to escape Mitsuhide. Yes, the body contact I was waiting for! Nothing extraordinary, but at this point I’ll take anything lol Well, at least this time there’s no cliff involved in her first time horse riding. Okay, that’s some elementary school level reason for teasing, Mitsuhide... While MC’s fears are apparently in the wrong order, Mitsuhide’s worries are too (he wants us to believe lol) Right now MC is too cute for words. And Mitsuhide the proud (not yet) boyfriend lol Heh, I already knew that! I can already see Hideyoshi freak out when he finds out MC and Mitsuhide have something going on lol Scary, Hideyoshi isn’t joking... Of course he has too many secrets! That’s, like, in his job description. So, Mitsuhide is unexpectedly popular with women?! How did that happen?? But I agree, once you fall for him it’s pretty much impossible to hate him. Not so popular with men, though, I see... Why do I feel like Mitsuhide’s past might hunt him down in this route? I can’t count how often I’ve aww’d at him already... He’s so honest with himself but so absolutely not with everyone else.

Episode 3 Yeah, time flies by if you have fun, Mitsuhide. !? !?!? YES! A definite Yes! OMG, this man will be the death of me! I can’t stress this enough! Oh, Mitsuhide telling her to go straight back home most likely spells danger... The dungeon spells danger, too... Yup, that’s Mitsuhide’s dark side... Oh dear, I see a suspicious fox. So, when exactly does that man sleep? I mean, he has to be busier than Hideyoshi. Mitsuhide... Is that you being honest? Wow, that was quick. Now she even wants to see Mitsuhide when she can’t lol Uff, I think I heard her innocent heart shatter right this instant... O.K. I heard my heart shatter as well. I’m sure someone set him up! I hope so... Aww, MC’s such a sweet girl. Oh, I already wondered when we’ll get one of Sasuke’s trademark visits! Pfft, Sasuke’s reaction to MC hanging out with Mitsuhide... What, as if he hasn’t spread that rumor himself. Who are you kidding, Mitsuhide? You? Embarrassed? Hah! Didn’t expect that, did you? It’s so much fun to see Mitsuhide fail to handle a single almost foolishly trusting, kind and honest girl lol Really, she had him speechless so many times already. Wah, that music got my hopes up. Aaaand then the 3rd episode comes to an end. What a cliffhanger!

Episode 4 Yeah, I knew it. That was too good to be true, haha... Okay, that’s on you, Mitsuhide. Shouldn’t have taught her that lol Awww, okay, that’s enough to compensate me right now~ I’m genuinely confused. Oh, wait a minute. No way~ she can meet Mitsuhide’s pet! (It’s called Chimaki which is... something to eat, by the way lol) I have to say, Mitsuhide has his way with words... They are mostly ambiguous lol I have to ask... Does that fall under cannibalism? ... Can you believe there’s someone equally bad or even worse than Mitsunari in terms of personal maintenance? Eat some food, you goddamn handsome man! He has a point, but still! For all the teasing, at least he’s praising MC when she’s done well. Oh good gracious! I didn’t think Mitsuhide was able to tell a genuine joke! Yeah, I can relate to that. The many mysteries make him so charming lol Aww, honest Mitsuhide is always appreciated~ Yup, his teasing is indeed addictive lol Isn’t it cute how socially awkward Mitsuhide is? Like, he’s so not used to being around people. Oh dear... That screams trouble. In capitals. Ah... I think I see a pattern... Oh, okay. Didn’t see that coming. Funny how he knew exactly where she would go... Yeah, Hideyoshi is not amused. Big scoop? Secret revealed? Seriously? That’s just a different kind of torture... OMG, blushing Mitsuhide is the BEST!!

Episode 5 Tell me what you want, Mitsuhide is a gentleman. Like, deep, DEEP down lol Lap pillow? Lap pillow! Okay, who does he remind me of...? Aww, MC genuinely praising him is so cute. Oh god, Ranmaru lol I think he has a no-monopolization policy lol And now Mitsuhide is making Ranmaru cry, the poor boy. Aww, Ranmaru is such a good friend! Yup, of course Masamune has to be the supporting friend. Figured. Those two are the least amused about that rumor going around, haha... Mom and Dad don’t approve lol Especially Mom. Yeah, can you believe it? I totally can. Does Nobu-tan suspect something? Maybe. Wow, that is way out of my expectations. Hideyoshi not putting Nobu-tan first. Uh-huh, don’t mind him at all, please. Say that before going inside lol The awkward moment when your man knows more about how to properly dress as a woman than you. ....??? Says the liar, sure. Wa-Wa-Wait! Seriously?? Uuuh, Mitsuhide’s new style is really cool! (He’s posing as a traveling performer btw) ...yeah... wife!? MC is going to flip lol “I didn’t tell you?”, yeah, no, because you’re you. I can’t tell if he’s serious already or not.

Episode 6 You could have at least taught her properly lol Okay, with how fast this whole pretend thing was progressing, I expected something else lol Wow, he’s unexpectedly good at flattering. Heh, I already thought it would come to this! Argh, can’t he just decide if he’s serious or not? I sense some big evil... *gasp* I knew it. Ugh, I don’t like that guy. Like, at all. Okay, he’s officially making me uncomfortable. Men like them can just die, seriously. If that had been me, I’d have punched the living daylights out of him and would’ve died a slow and painful death right after that. Aaah, it’s a shame I won’t buy the premium stories (since I’m saving for when it’s released in English) Aww, he was looking for her! It’s such a rare sight to see Mitsuhide so kind and serious. Oh god~ He’s most likely genuinely smiling and she can’t see it~ “All right now. I should pay him back for making my lovely wife cry.” His words, not mine! Now I wonder what happened... I love how Mitsuhide talks to himself pretending he doesn’t lol Okay, now things are getting complicated. That... was fast. Like, how did he do that?! Somehow, I think Mitsuhide would have so much fun being a modern day actor lol Didn’t expect to see them there. Yuki’s cute in every route lol Why is a guy of that rank doing something like that? Most likely in secret? Not that I started liking him, but I’m confused. Oh, now that explains a lot. Confusion lifted. Again!? Come on! ... ... oh. Did I maybe get the love rival wrong the whole time? Oh man, I hope he doesn’t plan to die or anything. I started to like him a lot in Sasuke’s route. ... oh? Oh??? True, that probably IS the biggest historical discovery. Aww, the letter is cute.

Episode 7 I somehow think they will think they succeeded and the evil guy come crawling back up at the end of episode 10... Oh, that’s the fox mask I saw in Shiro-sensei’s illustration! So that’s when it becomes useful, huh? He’s really getting affectionate~ Yuki, that’s what being 500 years apart is about lol I could be wrong but... Is that Mitsuhide slightly trolling people without knowing what that actually is? lol As I said, he’d make a great modern- day actor. !? That had me surprised. Wow... how my eyes just instantly caught the word kiss before everything else lol Usually, I’m not into mean characters (mean= teasing), partly because I’m kinda like that as well, but Mitsuhide’s level of teasing is just right. He never does anything really hurtful and is able to admit if he went too far and apologizes. I really like that. Awww, there they are, his usual clothes. I really liked the costume... He really enjoys all this “As your husband” stuff lol ... he... He’s only joking right? How can he do that to my heart~? MC, joke back! Say okay! YES! Okay, I need a sec to calm down... I think my heart stopped just now. Yeah, it stopped. Wow, I don’t know if I’m happy or disappointed. But I strongly tend to happy. I feel you. Nobody can escape, MC. Ugh, really. Really!!? Why?? This is like Hideyoshi’s route! Who ordered those soldiers!? And what do they think they are doing??? I mean, MC, just knock them out! Mitsuhide taught you some self-defense didn’t he!? I really hope for you guys you don’t believe this bs... Of course Ranmaru would know. But the other’s wouldn’t know he knows. Aaah, so many secrets... Too many secrets. Ooh, Hideyoshi is impressed. I just wondered... maybe threatening him like in Hideyoshi’s route might work... Hideyoshi is impressed 2nd I’m not sure, but does that mean he trusts him? Bless you, Nobu-tan. Uuh, back story for Mitsuhide is always appreciated! That’s not exactly my top spot for a date, but... okay? No way, don’t tell me... Oh good gracious, how can he stay so calm??? I can’t. Seriously. That’s almost too much for my poor heart. I honestly physically can’t endure this. Where’s Hideyoshi when you need him?!? Gosh, is there some equivalent of lawsuit against abuse of power in the Sengoku era?? Oh? Mitsuhide has a weakness and it’s super cute. ... omg, this is intense. And not in a positive sense. Good for him that he’s fine with it. I’m not. Great, Hideyoshi. Your timing sucks, you know? I didn’t expect that. Damn, now it’s up to three villains?!

Episode 8 Relationship status: It’s complicated. Uhm... no? Thank you. Hmm? Awwwwwww~ He. is. SO. precious. Good gracious, can anyone kick these people’s behinds, please? At least that? Really, no other route had so many disturbing side characters... It’s a mystery to me, too. And you were such a good guy, Yoshimoto~ My god, just stab him already or something! I can’t decide if I hate him or pity him. Again, I’m confused. Oh, okay, I think I’m beginning to understand. Ooooh, is that a tryst? I’m joking, of course. Though I wish it was lol Hah, so she finally figured him out, huh? Yeah, that about sums it up. “Hard to understand kindness”. Woah, that’s mean. What do you mean farwell gift?! Amazing. He’s always telling MC she’s too good-natured, but who’d have thought that Mitsuhide was the most good-natured idiot of them all. Aww, my poor baby is getting wet. Oh oh... Masamune, you can’t be serious? You... have a lot of special skills, huh? You ninja-like warlord. Yay, Mitsunari is such a precious angel. I’m sure Ranmaru is trying to confirm something. Pfff, as if he’d leave unprepared. Of course he is. He dropped hints everywhere if you look close ennough. Aww, Chimaki is still there! Uuuh, go on, Kyuubei. Spill us some secrets! Wow, he’s spilling a lot of things. I anticipated something else, but that’s also amazingly cute! I very much hope this has never happened before. Who figured out that info this fast?

And, wow, I can already tell you, I normally go for the romantic ending first, but this route (very much like Kenshin’s) in and of itself is a an entire drama, so I’ll probably get all the drama out of the way in the first playthrough, haha...

Episode 9 This is really becoming a tangled mess. I don’t know who believes in whom anymore. Hideyoshi is really loyal to a fault. Okay lol So Kennyo is now out of the picture or what? Don’t you dare believe that bs, MC! Ugh, of course not! Good job, girl. It’s interesting that Hideyoshi seriously thinks Nobu-tan would take pity on anyone. He’s taking her because she will be useful, what else. Heh, it’s quite funny to see Nobu-tan so secretive. Though I wonder what he said to make Masamune grin from ear to ear lol Ugh, that guy’s so disgusting, really... I even like Kennyo better. Heck, even Motonari is slightly more likeable. Oooh, I can imagine that. ... no way. Omg, did he really work for such a disgusting prick??? Yeah. No. Those two don’t look like they’re falling for that. Okay, I was wrong. Looks like they’re totally buying it. Oh god, there are more?! I can already see Nobu-tan using MC like a human shield lol Ooooh no. Nooo... Don’t tell me that was a careless mistake. Ugh, I knew it. Yeah, what else could he want other than his one little weakness... Uuh, that was a bit harsh, you know? But I do understand. ... That’s a bit mean, to attack his weakness like that... That’s gonna be a shock for him. I’m pretty darn sure. Told ya. Do I sense a kidnapping? Maybe. “Stupid girl.” I think I heard that kind of nickname somewhere before lol Shoul I call him Oliver from now on? Awww~ Yeah, feelings do strange things to you, huh? Who do you think taught her to be like that? I’m not sure how to interpret the letter...

Episode 10 Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Sasuke for the longest time... Um, isn’t Hideyoshi’s Nobu-tan sense tingling? Omg, if you want a demon’s head, then take a look in the mirror! Thanks, at least one of us believes in him without fail. ... I don’t dare to touch my screen to see what happened... I’m SO relieved! Oh god... and what the hell’s with that calm and composed “Sorry, my hand slipped.”!!? Just... how low can that guy sink? Really now? I think I’d have already kicked him or something to shut that guy up. Don’t tell me...? Is that what Nobu-tan... Wha~t! So Nobu-tan had it all planned out as well? (Yeah, sorry. I liked that nickname too much, so he’ll probably now always be Nobu-tan to me.) Uhm, hey, MC? Would you mind, you know, stopping him from probably landing in prison again? Or worse? Wow, he’s lower than low. He already dropped below Earth’s crust. ...??? Oooh, I see. The poor people who’ll have to rebuild the place again. Do I wanna know? No. Will I read further? You bet I do. Why are Sengoku warlords always doing something stupid? Wow... I already predicted that in episode 6... Someone, anyone, smack some sense into that beautiful head of his. It’s not like I can’t understand his reasoning, but this is just. NO. Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you are. Love rival confirmed? I think so. Oh no~ When did he sleep or eat last!?? Curse you, premium story preview! (I want to read it so bad~) Awwww, Hideyoshi still cares so much~ I already knew he’s a smooth talker but... that’s too adorable. He’s almost worse than Ieyasu at being honest. But only almost. This is so like him it’s making me tear up. Seriously. Wow, it’s really hard to read when everything’s blurry haha... But man, you really can’t leave him alone. He’ll go off and do something stupid. I tell you, we all have to love the heck out of this man. Aaah, I missed this. Wow, that surprised me a bit. Bottom line: That man is absolutely, without doubt, too pure for this world! I love how Hideyoshi doesn’t consider the possibility he might be interupting something lol It’s like he’s trying to train a dog... Pffft, Hideyoshi, really? lol That’s almost cute if you weren’t in the way. Mitsuhide is so not amused. He should have tied him to MC. Awwww~ Okay, that’s definitely cute. “The next time you disappear, at least leave a letter.” Hideyoshi, don’t give him strange ideas lol Good food! Bless you, Masamune! lol Masamune is being way too optimistic about the whole thing. Mitsuhide, you’r not Mitsunari, okay? lol I’d die from embarrassment~ I wouldn’t try that if I were you, Masamune. I knew it lol Everyone would react that way. So he’s still going, huh? Aww, Hideyoshi just wants him to come home. He’s implying he’ll kill him a second time? That’s harsh lol I just imagined MC with Mitsuhide’s tone and way of speaking. It’s hilarious lol She’s seen through you, you know? Heh, who wouold’ve thought. But wasn’t that, like... in episode 2? Wow, talk about dedicated. This is so strange. I always hoped he’d share his secrets, but honest Mitsuhide is making me slightly embarrassed lol Everything was REAL~ My heart... I can’t. I think my heart is melting. Ugh, that guy is ruining my good mood~

Episode 11 (Dramatic) I know he fled, but this feels ominous nonetheless. Man, they are all so quick to throw away their lives... Yikes, that’s harsh, Mitsuhide. It’s amazing how he can be kind through being mean or harsh. Sometimes, MItsuhide’s jokes are strange lol Okay, who’s interrupting? Kyuubei~ Why? lol When did he even have time for that?? Awww, Kyuubei gets my personal Best Subordinate award~ I knew he’d come back lol She’s a totally open book to him. Well, at least his priorities are in the correct order lol Now even Mitsuhide is a bit annoyed lol ... A guest? Hmmm??? Guests? Plural! As straightforward as always, our Yuki lol Mitsuhide is not amused... Interesting... But how do they know? Mitsuhide is SO not amused lol He’s so jealous lol Right? That’s what I wanna know, too. I can tell you one thing for certain: The temporary alliances in this route are plain crazy. Heh... So he told him, then that went that way to those two and finally reached Mitsuhide and MC. Wow, what a long way to travel for some tiny information. Caring Mitsuhide must be a pretty confusing sight for those two lol OMG, Yuki is speechless and Sasuke can’t believe his ears lol But, really, I’m almost sure he planned on saying that. Yuki gets second-hand embarrassment lol For a second... I kinda forgot Kyuubei was there, too. Sorry. I KNEW he did that on purpose. Promise? Promise what? ... I didn’t anticipate such an honest letter.

Episode 12 (Dramatic) Okay...? Awww, he’s really thoughtful. Wow, MC really IS his weakness. Those two are too cute together. Uh-oh... If Sasuke is so serious that probably means trouble. So, apparently, Bakamoto is a thing in this route... Well, at least Bakamoto still stays true to his convictions. ... That surprised me. I mean, I still remember what he said earlier... Is that another formerly very unlikely alliance? Yeah, wonder why that is, Bakamoto. Uh, I don’t think Mitsuhide is happy about this conversation. Pfft, I bet this is his cue to interrupt. Knew it lol How he quickly that went from “not closer than necessary” to “100 steps away or more” lol THAT was definitely a declaration of war lol Love rival definitely confirmed. Now, it’s either kidnapping or assassination attempt. Why is that guy so gross??? Aww, good job, Kyuubei! And Bakamoto, please stop sulking! ... I... Have a very bad feeling. That’s... I can’t find the words. It’s... almost more heart-shattering than the similar situation in Kenshin’s route... OMG, Cybird is trying to kill me. Like, emotionally. I’m terrified to red the next parts. Guys and girls, please have a huge box of tissues ready when reading episode 12 part 6 to 10 (dramatic)!!!! Oh God, even before starting this half, my heart is beating like crazy. No, no no no, I can already tell what he'll try to do. I knew it! ARGH. Damn, where are my tissues? God, zhis is too much for my poor heart. Wait, you aren’t— Seriously?? Omg, I love this MC! As if we can leave like this! But that’s exactly why you’r MItsuhide’s pair, heh. And now I finally get the whole meaning of the preview for the dramatic route.

Episode 13 (Dramatic) They’re really nervous, huh? Ninja surprise! I expected that reaction lol Though I don’t get why they look so happy about his statement... Good job, you two! No doubt there, Mitsuhide is an exceptionally good marksman. Yuki, I don’t know if you’re dissing or praising him... Ugh, I can’t stand that guy anymore. Compared to him, Kennyo looks like a cute little kitten. Those two pull off the most amazing shit I’ve ever seen. With the most funny remarks ever possible. Honestly lol Wow, that guy is also popping up everywhere, huh? Well, we could just leave it to Bakamoto. You can’t say he doesn’t pay back those he owes. How can I hate a 2D character so much? Seriously. Every time this guy shows up I wanna punch him so bad. ... I wouldn’t make him mad if I were you, bastard. Nnnh, I know you can’t, but just stab him already! Come again...? Did he just suggest what I think he did? Nooo~ No Mitsuhide, you don’t! ??? Secret ninja around? Ooooh! No, that’s even better! Serves you right, you rotten bastard! That’s what was meant with controlling posion with poison! And who’d have thought, of course that dickhead has the antidote. You have some nerve, trying to trick the world’s greatest trickster. I should have known Mitsuhide already knew. Heh, I didn’t anticipate this. That’s almost mean, but let’s be honest, that jerk deserves it. Aww, Bakamoto is such a good guy. He wouldn’t needlessly kill anyone. And that’s as funny as it is harsh. Yay~ he made it in time! Aww, they are already leaving? Of course, Yuki doesn’t place value on Mitsuhide being there lol Yup, that’s our favorite tsun. For Yuki, idiot is an affectionate nickname lol And even Bakamoto realizes it now lol Wait wait wait. WHAT?! Noooo~ Seriously?! I think that’s the first time this happened in ANY route!!? I feel you MC. I’d be so startled. But awwww, she’s such a good girl. Oh? Oh!! Mitsuhide is the best! So they’re staying there for a bit? Well, it’s understandable. ... Are you kidding me? lol Well, at least he’s being responsible... Yeah, I can’t live without him as well lol Oooh, okay, so they’re making a quick detour before coming back. On Nobu-tan’s orders, I see. Phew, I was a bit worried about that, tbh. Mitsuhide disguising his affection as jokes/teasing is never getting old lol Oh wow. He’s like... super popular? Or more like... super loved? And if this were modern times he’d definitely share his declaration of MC being his girl on every single social network possible lol Awww, that’s cute. Pfffft, Hideyoshi! Really? lol Kyuubei, you little snitch. Heh, who am I kidding? We love you for that! And so, another one of Mitsuhide’s mysteries is solved. Well, at least for MC, since she’s probably only the second person who knows this. ... uhm, what? Why are you doubting yourself!? Bad taste? Seriously?? You trick her constantly and NOW you claim that could be a problem? Mitsuhide, please. Yay~ Sexy timez~ Oh my, that was dropped like a bomb. But I’m happy about it~ Holy... This might be just me, but that illustration has to be illegal!!! I also have no words, trust me.

Episode 11 (Romantic) Yeah, as if it would be that easy. Oooh, that’s nice, though! Awww, we all know what you wanna say with that, hehe. ... Excuse me, but... WTF??? Okay. Maybe Mitsuhide has lost his mind after everything that happened... Once again I have to acknowledge the hellish ability of his to use words with lotsa meanings... Now, that’s what I’m also curious about now. Don’t like to agree with him, but... – yes, he’s crazy. ... It’s not strange that I’m not trusting this guy, is it? Damn... He’s saying some irritatingly true things. Yikes... If Mitsuhide is oozing killing intent you can bet he’s being 1000% serious...

(Updating when I’m done with episode 11 romantic route second half (￣▽￣*)ゞ)

#Ikemen Sengoku #Akechi Mitsuhide #Main Route #Personal Entry #イケメン戦国 #IkeSen Spoiler

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aprettystrangeblog · 6 years

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Not sure what you meant by organic but..Prompt: The Cloak of Levitation pulls a renaissance floating cloth impression about Stephen's hips when he walks out of his room at the Compound to announce that someone had stollen all of his clothes.

I meant it to mean original prompts, which this definitely is! If anyone wants to illustrate this, P L E A S E feel free to reblog this/tag me in your art because HOOOO BOY

——————–

By the usual standards of the typical compound chaos, it had been a pretty uneventful day.

A handful of team members were taking advantage of the peace in the common area– Thor and Bruce were crashed on the couch huddled over a small screen and sharing earbuds, Tony was hanging off the back of his armchair checking his email, Peter was lying on the floor half asleep on top of a thick history textbook, and Sam and Bucky were in the corner arguing over a game of Sims on the desktop computer. Something that was clearly Steve’s tiny sim on the screen shouted gibberish, breaking the silence in the room and making Sam slap Bucky on the arm, producing a hollow clanging noise and a glare. Pretty typical afternoon.

But this was the compound, so no one was particularly surprised when a strangled shout came echoing from the hall that led to the team’s private rooms.

“What was that?” Bruce mumbled, plucking his earbud out and squinting upwards from the screen held between him and Thor.

“Eh, maybe Clint and Nat are up to something,” Tony suggested, merely raising an eyebrow and idly swiping upwards on his tablet. “You know how they are.” He sat upright and cupped his hands around his mouth, rolling his eyes before shouting– “HEY, YOU IDIOTS, pipe down back there. You better not be breaking something!”

A string of obscenities was the only reply.

“Clint? Wow, where’d you pick up that kind of language? I’m blushing.”

“I am most certainly NOT Clint,” a deep, irritated voice shouted back. Oh. That wasn’t Clint.

“Mr. Strange?” Peter piped up from the floor, cracking his eyes open and pushing himself up in curiosity. “Is everything okay?”

“What do you think?” Heavy, quick footsteps thudded down the hallway towards the common area. “Look–”

Stephen Strange stuck his head out from behind the door frame, an impressively deep scowl on his face. “I don’t know what kind of hazing rituals you guys pull on new members of the compound, but this isn’t remotely funny.”

The scattered occupants of the room all exchanged confused glances with one another. Tony opened his mouth, only to tilt his head to the side and close it again. Even Bucky poked his head up to give Stephen a sort of bemused shrug before returning to the computer to drop sim-Steve into a sim pool without a ladder.

“Wizard, I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Thor spoke up, breaking the baffled silence. “We would never… what is the word you used? ‘Haze’? A new member of the team. At least, I would hope we’re all above that,” he added lightly, glancing around in an almost accusatory way, as if someone in the room was thinking about doing it.

Stephen gave a derisive snort from the doorway. “Oh? Well in that case, explain this–”

The sorcerer stepped out from behind the frame of the door, and everyone else collectively, to put it lightly, lost their shit.

Stephen was wearing absolutely nothing but his cloak, which hung from its usual position about is shoulders, and both of them were very clearly pissed off. To its credit, the Cloak of Levitation was doing a spectacular job at keeping its master decent; it was doing a wonderful impression of some Renaissance-era drapery, and was carefully and cheekily floating about Strange’s waist, keeping anything inappropriate from peeking out. It didn’t, however, cover the rest of Stephen’s not-so-hard-on-the-eyes body. Or a majority of his ass, as Tony seemed to notice in the reflection of the window, as he raised a hand to cover his view of the sorcerer’s body with a high-pitched ‘oh!’” Peter slapped his hands over his eyes like some kind of giggling twelve year old, Bruce had gone bright red, and even Bucky and Sam had their mouths hanging open slightly, Sims game momentarily forgotten. Only Thor let out a hearty, unembarrassed guffaw.

“I wholeheartedly approve of this new look! A needed improvement on those dusty old robes of yours,” Thor said, grabbing his half-empty mug from the coffee table and raising it in a ‘cheers’ motion.

A muscle in Stephen’s jaw twitched as he crossed his arms, looking to all the world like some kind of scorned deity. The soft glow from the windows and framing of the door behind him didn’t help but to reinforce the ethereal image of the sorcerer standing there, much to the chagrin of certain people in the room.

“While I appreciate the compliment,” Stephen started carefully, his voice low and strained, “it doesn’t change the fact that someone stole all of my clothes.”

“Stole. All. Your clothes?” Tony asked haltingly, his eyebrows threatening to travel straight up towards his hairline in disbelief.

“My entire wardrobe is gone, and I don’t particularly remember relieving my closet of all my worldly clothes.”

“You’re… sure?”

“Do I look blind to you?” Stephen shot back, a soft crackle of magic sparking to life in his fingertips at his rising levels of irritation.

“No, no, I just–”

“Wait,” Bruce interrupted, raising one hand and desperately trying to avoid looking at the reflection of Stephen in the window. “Do you have more clothes back at the Sanctum? Can you portal there and, and find a spare outfit?”

“I admire your quick thinking, Doctor Banner, but my spare clothes there are gone as well.”

Bruce’s eyebrows squished together in a confused frown. “How’s that possible?”

“I don’t mean to offend you all, but hardly any of you are permitted into the Sanctum without me present, and Wong hasn’t reported any visitors to me. So,” Stephen concluded, crossing his arms more tightly over his chest, “one of you is either stealthy enough to fool Wong and the Sanctum, or there’s some sneaky magic involved here.” Stephen eyed each person in the room, suspicious.

“While I do enjoy you in this form, Sorcerer Strange, I’m innocent in this,” Thor said defensively, raising his hands. “My brother is the trickster god, not I.”

“I’m new here too! I would never prank you, at least, uh, like that,” Peter chimed in, one hand searching around for his phone. He wouldn’t sink low enough to steal Stephen’s clothes, but he was definitely plummeting to the level of posting this to Instagram.

“Bruce and I, we have an alibi,” Tony added, motioning between the two of them hurriedly. “We’ve been working all morning together, and just left the lab an half hour ago.”

“Mhm. Well. Sam? Bucky? Any information?” Stephen asked, raising his gaze towards the corner of the room.

“Hey man, I’d never steal another dude’s clothes,” Sam said defensively, shaking his head. “Majorly uncool. I ain’t some college frat guy.”

“Right,” Bucky agreed simply, a slight undercurrent of sarcasm in his voice as he eyed Sam.

Stephen grunted, unconvinced, but uncrossed his arms after a moment, seeming to deflate a bit.

“Anyone else have any inclination of what might have happened?”

“…Clint and Nat can be, um, kind of childish sometimes,” Bruce suggested, glancing over at Thor. “They set Thor’s cape on fire one time.”

“Ah! Now that was an eventful party!” Thor grinned, clapping Bruce on the shoulder. “But yes, the two of them do cause mischief from time to time.”

Stephen shifted his weight from foot to foot, weighing his options as his cloak swirled around his waist. “So I’ve heard. Do you know where they are?”

“No, I haven’t seen them in a couple hours,” Bruce admitted, shifting so that he was sitting up a little taller, “but Thor’s pretty good at finding them when they’ve, uh, hid.”

“Think you could lead me to them?” Stephen asked, appraising Thor lightly.

“Certainly. Though I would advise perhaps seeking out some more clothing beforehand. They tend to gloat quite heavily upon seeing the product of their mischief.”

“Well, you’re roughly my size, Stephen,” Tony spoke up, getting to his feet. “You can borrow anything you’d like from my own closet. Just, y’know, keep the underwear.”

Stephen’s cheeks flushed, but he seemed to soften a little. “Really? Thank you. I’d appreciate a pair of pants right about now.”

“Sure thing, magic man. Follow me,” Tony said, motioning for Stephen to follow him down the hallway. “Bruce, Thor, you’ll go find Clint and Nat?”

“Most certainly,” Thor assured, clapping a fist over his chest and tugging Bruce to his feet. “It’s a dishonor to shame such a man like this.”

“I’m flattered,” Stephen replied, a glint of appreciative amusement in his eyes. “Sam, Bucky, can you tell us if you find anything?” he asked as he followed Tony towards the bedroom hallway.

“Sure, sure,” Bucky mumbled, waving a hand as he returned to clicking at the computer screen. “Sam’ll have his eyes out.”

“You will too, you lazy dumbass,” Sam retorted, giving Bucky’s metal arm a shove. He didn’t budge. “You shouldn’t have introduce him to the Sims, Pete, he won’t get off the goddamned computer.”

“Sorry,” Peter grinned, pulling himself off the floor and abandoning his textbook. “I’ll come back later to check out the sim house he built, but I’ll go help Thor and Mr. Banner for now.”

“Ah! Extra help! Excellent,” Thor grinned, holding out an arm to Peter as he tripped across the room. “Alright. Let’s check in the laundry area first, Clint rather enjoys hiding in the industrial washing machines, if my memory serves me.”

“Really?!” Peter asked excitedly, his voice jumping up an octave of disbelief as he followed Bruce and Thor towards the other doorway. “I can’t believe that–”

Their voices faded away along with their footsteps, and after a moment it was just Sam and Bucky left in the room.

“Bucky,” Sam whispered, glancing around before lowering his voice. “Bucky!”

“What?” Bucky murmured, raising his eyebrows innocently as he put down the mouse.

“What did you do?”

Bucky cracked a smile and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, diamond-shaped artifact and pinching it between two metal fingers. “Remember this thing you nicked from the Harry Potter’s magic fun house?”

“Ay, I didn’t nick it, it was just lying on the floor, I figured I’d return it at some point–”

“The point is, I figured out how to do stuff with it,” Bucky interrupted, absolute mayhem dancing in his eyes. “But I didn’t know it was gonna do… that.”

Sam blinked, a slow grin starting to spread across his face. “…do you have all of Strange’s clothes somewhere?”

“Uh huh.”

“…wanna show me?”

“Oh, definitely. C’mon.”

500 notes · View notes

mattzerella-sticks · 6 years

Text

The Spooky Specter on Set (Coda to 13x16 Scoobynatural)

Dean thought that his animated vacation was a one-time deal. So why is he back? And why are he and his friends the Scooby Gang? Dean's going to have to get through the episode, solve the mystery, and work out a few things if he's ever going to find his way out. But just what has the power to bring him back there? And who thought it was funny to make him...

(AO3)

You’re not fooling me

Cause I can see!

The way you shake and shiver

C’mon we got a mystery to solve so-

“Huh?”

Dean blinks back into awareness, adjusting to the light. He’s pressed into a warm, solid weight, nestled against soft fabric. He turns his face in towards his makeshift pillow and whines, feeling the last shackles of sleep breaking free no matter how much he wanted to stay imprisoned.

“Whoops, sorry ‘bout that Dean. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He reels back, jarred by the deep, familiar rumble coming from his leaning post. Dean doesn’t know how long he’s gaping at Cas before blue eyes meet his. It’s only for a moment – a concerned glance before he has to return focus onto the road.

“I know you can be picky about the music,” Cas says, grip tightening on the wheel, “but I figured a quiet van might make for an easier rest.” Dean wants to make a comment – they drive a car, not a van – but another voice pops up.

“Makes it easier to read, that’s for sure.”

Dean has to crane his head back to where Sam is sitting, nose buried in a book. He looks up slightly, to meet Sam’s eyes and – ‘When did Sam start wearing glasses?’

Next to Sam, Jack tilts his head in concern. It’s the same expression as the Doberman slobbering all over his leg. “Like, are you okay, Dean?” Jack asks, “You look like someone scuffed your boots.”

Dean wants to scoff. To fire back a witty retort, saying that he’s gotten far worse on his boots then a scuff. To tell Jack to stop looking at him like that and kick the dog out his Baby. But then he notices.

How spacious the back of the car is – there’s no backseat, just a flat bed where Sam and Jack and that dog can spread out. How the roof isn’t hovering inches away, in fact a good foot above his head. How the usual track deck was replaced with a sky blue and slime green 8-track player. The fuzzy dice hanging over the rearview mirror.

“What the -,” Dean wheezes, looking around, “Where’s Baby?”

The Doberman perks up, and she tilts her head to the side again, “Ri’m right rere, Rean.”

‘This is it,’ Dean thinks, staring wide-eyed into the deep brown eyes of a talking Doberman, ‘I’ve officially lost my mind.’

“Dean,” Cas starts, drawing Dean away from ‘Baby’ and to him, “You don’t – are you feeling okay?” He’s not that observant – anyone with functioning vision could tell Dean wasn’t doing his best. Dean’s trying not to fall into a panic attack, but it seems like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. “Maybe,” Cas continues, “Maybe your scarf is too tight? Why don’t you loosen it?”

‘Scarf?’ Dean feels for the material around his neck, and loosens it the tiniest bit. It’s not a lot, but his breathing does start to even out. Probably because instead of worrying about the car – ‘van, I’m in a van’ – Dean’s focus is drawn to the scarf.

The green scarf with ends that hang delicately at the dip of his collarbone. It pairs nicely with the snug, purple button-down he’s wearing and – ‘bubblegum pink jeans?!?’

‘No, c’mon… why am I…’

It seemed like only yesterday he, Sam, and Cas had jumped out of the cartoon world and back into theirs. It was an unusual adventure – the only normalcy being the dead bodies they happened upon. But they solved the case, helped a poor boy, made some friends, and fulfilled a couple, but not all, of Dean’s childhood fantasies.

Yet here he is. Back in the Mystery Machine – only now instead of meeting the Scooby gang, they’ve become them. And curse whatever ghost, spell, or trickster that decided he should be Daphne. When he said he wanted in Daphne’s pants, he never meant it literally.

“Is that better, Dean?” Cas asks, drawing him away from further spiraling. He takes a good look at him, and tries not to frown. Dean may not have been Fred’s biggest fan, but at least he got to drive the damn Mystery Machine. Why give that power to Cas? He’s a total Scooby.

He’s not even in his usual get-up, either: the tan trench coat and blue tie exchanged for a similarly colored sweater and ascot.

There isn’t much he can do. It doesn’t look like anyone else can tell there’s something wrong with the situation. Sam has finally abandoned his book and is giving him a weird calculated stare that would be scarier if he wasn’t being cocooned by the orange turtleneck he’s wearing. At least Jack and… Baby… have moved on to sandwiches. Those two are wearing exactly what Shaggy and Scooby wore; save for Baby’s tag demarking a solitary ‘B’.

His plan of action is clear: play along until the mystery is solved and they’re zapped back into their own world. Maybe figure out what spirit is causing it this time. If it worked once before, it can work again.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, pressing up against Cas again, “I think I just woke up too fast.”

Sam snorts, turning back to his reading. He says, “Leave it to Dean to find a way to make even napping dangerous.”

Dean bites back the ‘Bitch’ that’s balancing precariously on his tongue. It would be easy, but judging by the wholesomeness of the van, he’s afraid his PG-13 language would be too sensitive for their ears. So instead he turns his attention back to Cas.

“So,” he starts, getting comfortable, “how long was I out for?”

“A while,” Cas says, glancing down at him with a smile, “You conked out pretty early, muttering about ‘early starts’ and ‘beauty sleep’,” Dean blushes, “But you woke up at a good time. We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?”

“Like, you can’t be serious!” Jack yelps from behind, leaning up until his head presses between Dean and Cas. Dean frowns at the kid, upset at how rudely he butted in. “We’re only going to see the most fantastic, super amazing, spectacular television show in all of television history!” Jack continues, Baby nodding along behind, going “Reah, reah!”

“Given that television hasn’t been around that long, there isn’t much to that claim,” Sam says, without even looking up, “Although having been on the air for this long… that, I will admit, is a laudable feat.”

“Like anyone could ever cancel Dick Morrison, Ghost Detective!” Jack says, plopping back on his rear, “There’s no mystery that man can’t solve!”

Cas, this time, leans closer to Dean, whispering, “You’d think he’d get this excited when it comes to our mysteries.” Dean bites back a giggle – because he’s a man – but there’s no harm in the chuckle that rasps its way from between his lips.

“Like, whatever man,” Jack says, crossing his arms, “Second-hand excitement is, like, all I can handle.”

“Still, it must get tedious to watch someone do exactly what you do, shouldn’t it?” Sam asks, abandoning his book.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, “Shouldn’t television be about escape and relaxation?”

“Like, c’mon, Dean!” Jack whines, “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Dean blinks at him, “I am?”

Sam snorts, “Please, we all know why Dean happens to like that show – and it’s not because of the plot.” Dean glares at him, trying to piece together what he meant. And why the comment had Cas bristling beside him.

“Look, we can all gang up on Jack later,” Cas says, “We’re rounding the block – everyone be on your best behavior.” The grumbled assent puts a small smile on Cas’s face, which he shares with Dean. It’s a special one that shines from his eyes and works at the crinkles near there. He returns it, of course. Not because of the weird flutter in his chest, but because it would be rude not to.

‘Oh, whatever!’

He’ll do what it takes to solve this case – but not that. The ghoul can put Dean in the purple boots but he can’t take the scratchy flannel out of Dean.

He looks down, eyeing his shoes.

‘Who even owns purple boots?’

For the Groovy Sixties, this studio sure looks cutting edge. Well, for its time. Dean was looking over a large camera while the rest of his gang filtered their way in. He needed to distract himself with something – on the way in, he’d already been accosted by the security guard, the janitor, two production assistants, and three extras. One who had been over seventy.

It wasn’t easy being Daphne.

“They are fascinating, aren’t they?”

Case in point: the guy who’s plastered to his back, whispering into his ear.

“Yeah, man,” Dean sighed bitterly, “But I don’t think you need to inspect it this close – oh.”

Dean had turned to give him his piece of mind – he’d had enough: key word here being had. Because after catching a good look at the man, the fight left his body. Like his steely, grey eyes were the calamine lotion that soothed his prickly irritation.

“My apologies,” he said, taking a scant step backwards, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just believe that when it comes to inspecting true beauties,” he grins, raking his eyes over Dean’s body, “one must get as close as possible.”

Dean can’t help it this time – he giggles. He couldn’t hold it in, distracted, unable to put more than two words together let alone control reactions. It slipped out. But it was the right call, because now his eyes are shining, and Dean’s skin is flushing deeper, and –

“Like, it’s Dick Morrison!”

Jack and Baby pounce, pushing Dean back and away into something solid – Cas, by the deep ‘oof’.

“Please, please, call me Dominic,” he says, “I just play Dick on television.”

“Like, Dick – I mean, Mr. Morrison – no, no Dominic,” Jack rushes out, stumbling over himself, “I’m a huge fan,” he holds up a small notepad, “Could I, like, get your autograph?”

“Reah, reah,” Baby nods, holding up her own notepad, “Rautograph!”

“Anything for my fans,” he takes a pad, signing without looking, eyes trained on Dean, “I take it you are the winners we were told would be joining us?”

“Yep!” Jack carries on, “Me ‘n Baby here entered your ‘Spend a Day on Set with Dick’ contest, and we brought our friends: Cas, Sam, and Dean.”

“Dean,” Dominic practically purrs his name, stepping forward to grab his hand, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He presses a light kiss to Dean’s knuckles. Dean would say he enjoyed it, but there were two things making that hard. The fact that Dominic was a dude, and the serious glare Cas is shooting the man.

“Pantomere!” a heavy-set man in a sweat-stained button-down calls, “You’re needed for the next scene. Stop making eyes and get a move on.”

“Unfortunately, our time is cut short,” he says, frowning a beat before dazzling Dean with another smile. “Wait for me, and when I’m done, we can pick up where we left off.” He squeezes Dean’s hand before walking away, his trench coat billowing behind him. Dean didn’t even realize he was wearing one, too caught up in the scene to pay any attention.

Cas clears his throat behind him, and Dean turns around sheepishly. He doesn’t know why – just because Cas is Fred and Dean is Daphne doesn’t mean Dean and Cas are Fred and Daphne. But the anxious worry is still there, like being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“And just what,” he starts, flexing and releasing his fists, “was interrupted?”

Dean blushes, unable to meet Cas’s interrogative eyes.

“S’nothin’,” he mutters, “We were looking at the camera –“

“Typical,” Sam cuts in, smirking, “We’re here not five minutes and the first thing you head towards is the camera. Classic Dean.”

Dean glares at him, “Could you be quiet, peanut gallery?” Sam shrugs, looking quiet pleased. He can just picture the canary feathers poking out of Sam’s feline smile.

“Can you believe it,” Jack joins in, staring at Dominic’s writing, “Dick Morrison’s autograph! This day is shaping up to be really hip!”

“Rou raid it, Rack,” Baby said, “Really rip! Reheeheeheehee!”

Another production assistant slides by, looking at her clipboard, “Quiet on set! We’ll be shooting in five – everyone be ready!”

“C’mon,” Jack says, “Let’s get a good seat! I wanna be able to feel the action!”

“Jack,” Sam starts, about to lecture Jack on small-screen acting and the power of editing, but the excited innocence startles him, and he lets his words slide away, “Sure, buddy, let’s find a spot.” They follow the assistant, Baby on their heels.

Dean tries to follow, but a firm grip tugs at his wrist. He turns, Cas still looking at him in that strange and electrifying way. Dean tries to shake it off, not used to feeling like this. At least… as a cartoon.

“Everything good?” Dean asks him.

Cas opens his mouth, as if to say something. But after a beat, he closes, something in his eyes shifting course. “No,” he says, “it’s… it’s fine,” he clenches his jaw, “We should follow… go and watch Dominic.”

Cas’s voice is blendered gravel on a good day, but when he said Dominic’s name it struck a harsh chord; like it were an avalanche rolling thunderously down a mountainside.

“You sure?” Dean continues, “I mean… yeah, we were close but it wasn’t gonna go anywhere,” he’s blushing, ducking his head, avoiding Cas’s searching eyes.

“Didn’t look that way,” Cas mutters, “How flustered you were getting –“

Dean cuts him off, “I don’t get flustered, especially over guys.” It’s defensive – too much. He laid it on thick, Cas’s suspicion raising the hairs on his neck. Still, Dean needed to lay the law down. He might be Daphne, but broad shoulders and ascots don’t do it for him.

Except Dominic’s shoulders were kind of slim and narrow. And he had a red tie, not an ascot.

He’s looking at broad shoulders and an ascot and too-blue eyes and a cute smirk and –

“ZOINKS!!!!!!!”

They turn, looking at where their friends walked off. Cas darts forward, hand still on Dean’s wrist, dragging him. He doesn’t pull free until they’re at the scene, and even then he waits a few seconds.

It’s a sight. An upturned desk, scattered papers, a shattered light. Dominic is being fawned over by several people, and Jack and Baby are shaking in Sam’s arms.

“What happened?”

Sam turns to them, dropping the terrified twosome and stepping over to them. “It turns out art imitates life.”

Dean scrunches his face up in confusion, “What?”

Sam points to a nearby wall, where large, dripping red letters are practically carved into the plywood.

L E A V E T H E S H O W A N D N E V E R R E T U R N

“Who could have done such a thing?” Cas asks, turning back to Sam.

Jack and Baby, somewhat out of their stupor, still clinging tight to each other, bark out a shaky, “G-G-G-G-GHOST!”

Dean can’t help the thought that crosses his mind:

‘Again?’

Apparently, this wasn’t the first incident. There’d been other attempts made during filming – each Dominic tried to downplay as his director overplayed them.

“Do not worry, Dean,” he was whispering to him, while the director talked the others’ ears off, “I face stuff like this all the time on the show. I do not scare easily.”

It was easier to push him away now that the case appeared. “Neither do I,” he grinned, pulling away from the hand on his lower back and towards his friends. “So,” he says to them, “What’s the plan? Interview the crew, see if there’s any unfinished business here by some dead, disgruntled worker then a good ol’ salt and burn?” Four pairs of blank stares blink back at him. His mind catches up with his mouth, and he feels heat crawling up his cheeks.

‘So more like a regular episode and less like a day in my life,’ Dean thinks, ‘Looking more and more like a Trickster… if he were still alive.’

“I mean, uh,” Dean continues, hoping what he says next is true, “That’s what they do on the show, right?”

“Not everything you see on television is true, Dean,” Sam admonishes. Dean would be annoyed if his quick thinking didn’t pay off. “Besides,” Sam says, “This isn’t a ghost –“

“But we saw it!” Jack says, “It had a pale, icky face… long, dark hair… bloody, sharp claws -!”

“Rand a rhostly rail!” Baby adds, paws akimbo in a mock imitation, “Roud and rary!”

“Whatever it is,” Cas says, “It seems to be scaring a lot of people. We need to get to the bottom of this, and fast!”

“Then we better start looking for clues, then?” Dean asks, “Maybe around the scene?” He jerks a thumb over towards the ruined detective’s office, and the gang heads over soon enough. Well, almost all of them. Dean sees Jack and Baby sneaking off towards craft services, but pays them little mind. Not like they came in handy until towards the end of the episode – when they needed bait.

Sam begins inspecting the letters (“It’s paint – not blood.”) while Cas looks over a few of the marks left by the ghost’s entrance. Dean decided to check around the desk. Besides the tattered scraps of paper lying about – pages of a script marked to hell – there’s nothing else really catching his eye. No slime, no shine… another sign they’re dealing with a more human monster.

‘Wonder if someone’s trying to buy the studio…’

“Excuse me, just what do you think you’re doing?”

Dean looks up, where a scrawny man is glaring at him, half his face obscured by the large beret he’s wearing.

“Umm… cleaning?” Dean tries, but the unimpressed expression doesn’t bode well for any chance at stardom.

“Mister DeMilo, be kind,” Dominic approaches, having changed into a fuzzy-white robe, “He’s a guest – one of the contest winners.”

“Oh.” That’s not a good sign. Neither is the creeping intensity of his stare. “Of course, not only do I have to deal with this mess, but the danged marketing gimmick is interrupting my creative work.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Cas starts, walking over to them, “We know a thing or two about solving mysteries – and we can help you out.”

DeMilo points an accusing finger at him, “What you can all do is get out of my way, and stay sequestered somewhere out of my sight until this day is over, got it?”

“Hey,” Dean barks, getting between DeMilo and Cas, “We’re trying to help. No need to act like that.”

“And you should learn some manners, boy,” DeMilo warns, “Before speaking to someone like me. Now, Pantomere,” he turns to his actor, “Don’t think that this means you get an extended break. Once the crew gets rid of the… mess,” he casts a withering glance at them, “we are getting back on track. If you need me, I’ll be in my trailer.” He stomps away before Dean could get in a good hit.

‘Keep your cool, Dean,’ he thinks, fist tight, ‘Daphne doesn’t punch.’

But she does know how to use her mouth. “Well… he’s a piece of work, ain’t he?” he asks, Cas’s snort a sign of agreement.

“He’s a little rough around the edges,” Dominic apologizes, “But he’s really dedicated to his work. We were lucky to get such a big profile name to be a regular director –“

“Wait,” Sam stops him, “DeMilo? You mean that was Vince DeMilo?”

Dean shoots him a weird look, “You know who that was?”

“Vince DeMilo is an award-winning film director,” Sam continues, “What’s he doing working in television?” He looks at Dominic, “No offense.”

“None taken,” he shrugs, “I was surprised as well. But the studio paid a pretty penny for him – why we had to cut our episodes down,” he turns to Dean, winking, “And why my trailer is much more intimate. If you need to investigate…”

“We’ll get there soon enough,” Cas steps in, mouth set and firm. Dean rolls his eyes.

‘Men.’

Cas and Dominic seem to be in a staring match, neither wanting to be the first to look away. Dean would do something about it, if he wanted to. But there was something about the scene that punched him in the gut and took his breath. Maybe the cocky grin and brows of Dominic, or the righteous fury sparking out from behind Cas’s eyes. It was something out of a Western, which appealed more to Dean’s sensibilities than this hippie period.

Thankfully, Sam still has his senses about him to step in. “If you two are done,” he says, “We need to get back to what we’re doing.”

“My apologies,” he says, stepping past Cas and to Dean, “if you need me, I’ll be running lines with my co-star. Work never stops…” he presses another kiss to Dean’s knuckles, but this time he pulls his hand back instead of letting it linger in Dominic’s smooth palm. He winks, and struts away, oblivious or uncaring to Cas’s fiery stare.

Dean turns to him, “Cas…”

“I think I’ll go make sure Jack and Baby haven’t eaten the crew out of their meals,” he says, walking off in the other direction. Dean watches him, wanting to say something. But the thick feelings of disappointment and shame choke him, and he focuses on that. Because why should he be ashamed of not saying anything to stop Dominic. Or disappointed that Cas didn’t… defend his honor or something.

He’s Fred, and Dean might be Daphne… but they’re not Fred and Daphne…

‘Right?’

“What you’re doing isn’t right, y’know,” Sam says, knocking Dean out of his thoughts. He’s giving him a bitch face – at least they kept thatin this cartoon.

Dean stills, his fear replacing everything else. That maybe Sam can hear what he’s thinking – judging him for the feelings that clearly aren’t his.

Because they’re not his. They’re Daphne’s. That’s the story he’s sticking to.

“I don’t,” he wheezes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Look, I know you’re star struck –“

“I am not star struck –“

“Dean,” Sam stops him, “I’ve seen your poster of Dominic hanging in your room.” And now Dean feels that shame again, “And just because he’s famous doesn’t mean you have to be nice.”

“I’m not being nice.”

“Yes, you are!” Sam groans, “You always act like this when someone flirts with you. I’d have thought you’d grown out of it since…” ‘Since what?’ “well, y’know,” ‘No, I don’t know!’ “But in front of his face? That’s low.”

Dean might have a sneaking suspicion of what Sam is getting at, but he doesn’t get the chance to see if he’s right. Not before Cas, Jack, and Baby are sprinting towards them – with a ghastly figure on their tails.

“Run!”

“Like, that was a close one!” Jack rasps out, leaning against Baby while he and the others catch their breaths. The Specter (‘So generic, did he name himself?’) had run on ahead, not bothering to check the supply closet the group hid in.

“You said it,” Cas says, standing up straight, “Gang, this monster doesn’t want us looking into it. So you know what that means?”

“We should, like, listen to it and get going?”

“Reah, reah!”

“No, Jack, Baby, we need… to split up!”

Dean sighs; thankful they’re up to this part already. ‘Halfway out of this emotional turmoil.’

“Alright,” Dean claps Cas on the shoulder, “Where are you and I going?” Cas gives him an odd look, uncertain what to make of Dean’s statement. Now if that doesn’t twist the knife deeper into his wounded heart?

“Are you sure?” Cas asks, murmuring, “If you run into Dominic again… I don’t want to – to cramp your style.”

Dean winces. It wasn’t a pretty sight, that’s for sure. During the chase, Dean had tripped – because of course. Cas tried to catch him, but got barreled over by Baby and Jack, while Dominic managed to make the save. He was leaning in close after, as if to sneak a quick ‘thank you’, before Cas grabbed Dean’s arm, ripping him from Dominic’s embrace. Dean squawked, more annoyed at Cas for nearly pulling his arm out of his socket than freeing him from the actor’s hold.

But it mustn’t have looked that way to him.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” Dean smiles, hoping it soothes over the hurt. And he means it, too. For once, this isn’t a Daphne feeling. Cas always makes him feel better, and when he’s out of sight there’s nothing left but the mosquito-like worry for his return.

The slight blush working its way up his cheeks because of Cas’s boyish grin – that Dean blames on Daphne.

“Okay,” Cas says, turning back to the gang, “So Dean and I will check out more of the studio. Maybe see if there are any offices we can take a peek in. Sam – you, Jack, and Baby can turn over the trailers.”

“Oh no,” Jack says, “Baby and I are going to go wait in the van until you three come to your senses and join us!” Baby nods, mirroring his crossed arms and fierce frown.

Sam sighs, “Would you two do it for some Baby Bites?” He pulls the box seemingly out of nowhere – but that doesn’t matter in a cartoon. What matters is that soon enough, the three of them are on their way towards the trailers while Cas and Dean dive deeper into the studio.

“Look,” Cas starts, “I want to… apologize, if I am acting a bit strange,” he’s not meeting Dean’s eyes, and he seems to be fiddling with his ascot, “I know that you’d never… with Dominic. I just – I’m nervous –“

“You? Nervous?” Dean chuckles, “I thought you ‘don’t sweat’?”

“I do, though,” Cas continues, “I sweat, I doubt, I – I get jealous,” he sighs, wringing his hands, “I know I shouldn’t be, we discussed the possibility of this happening when Jack and Baby won,” ‘We did?’ “But talking and joking about it is entirely different than seeing it with my own eyes.” And, ‘ah shit’, there’s no masking the pain in Cas’s voice.

Sam was right, whatever Dean is doing – it’s low. And Cas, sweet, lovable, big-hearted Cas, is suffering from Dean’s blindsided actions. He needs to stop letting Daphne get into his head and be firm. Just because some guy gives you a smile, oozes on the charm and lays it on thick, doesn’t mean Dean has to give him the time of day.

Daphne might have been nice to Dean, but Dean doesn’t have to be like that for Dominic.

And then it hits him. He stops, eyes wide as the realization rolls over.

“Dean?” Cas asks, stopping just outside an office door, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean wheezes out, “S’fine… peachy. This the place?”

“Looks like the producer’s office,” Cas reads the nameplate, “Let’s check it out.”

The door’s unlocked – because of course – so there’s not much trouble in their investigation. The only problem is Dean’s mind, unfocused because it’s busy laying into him about his own actions.

‘Daphne was never interested in you, ya doof,’ he starts, ‘She’s just too nice to say no – it’s how she was written. Her heart belonged to Fred, there was nothing you could have done to convince her you were even an option.’ And thinking about that doesn’t put him in any great mood either. It was like finding out Santa Claus wasn’t real – he held onto that little bit of his childhood for so long. Now, he’s spiraling without it, on uneven footing – with no idea where to turn or what was next.

“Hey, Dean, take a look at this.”

Snapping out of his daze, Dean makes his way over to Cas. At least he knows where he stands with him. There are a few papers in his hands, and he’s furrowed his brow in thought.

“What do you have?” Dean asks, taking some of the pages in his hands and glancing through them.

“I’m not sure… there’s a lot there, but nothing that adds up to one suspect,” Cas says, “You’re looking at the contract for DeMilo –“

“Wow that’s a lot of money!”

“You’d think,” Cas says, “But from these secretary notes, DeMilo was insulted. That if he wasn’t unable to work anywhere else, he would turn them away.”

“With a personality like that, who’d want him?”

Cas smiles, “They don’t want him for his personality, but for his talent.” Dean chuckles, agreeing.

“What else is there?”

“Just more notes,” Cas says, flipping through pages, “Meetings with different people about the show… oh.”

“What?”

“Very hurried notes… from a meeting between the producer and… Dominic,” Cas grumbles, “It seems he…”

“He… he what?”

“I’m not sure,” Cas admits, “These are smudged. No idea what they could be.”

“It’s okay,” Dean says, squeezing at Cas’s elbow, “I’m sure it was probably something like he needs a new trailer or he’s had it up to herewith the food on set.” Cas snorts, shooting an amused glance at Dean. The uptick of his mouth is just what Dean wanted to see, and something blooms in Dean’s chest. It causes him to stand a bit straighter, his heart to beat faster, and to really take in Cas’s face – ‘how can animated lips look so plush?’

‘Maybe this is why you’re Daphne.’

Like a switch, Dean feels his world up-end. He lets go and takes a step back, trapping himself between Cas and the desk. His eyes are wide, and he’s moving his mouth – but no words come out.

Cas drops the papers and moves closer, reaching out, “Dean? Are you alright?”

“Y – yeah…” Dean rasps, moving further away, walking around the desk, “Just feel a bit… light-headed. I think I might take a seat.”

And that’s why he should have seen it coming. You don’t just ‘sit’ when you’re in Scooby-Doo. Especially when you’re Daphne.

Because that chair is going to fly back, and Dean will find himself in a dark room, alone, with nothing but the monster.

‘Should have known,’ Dean thinks, watching as Cas tries to save him, ‘Damn not-background props.’

The wall slam shuts.

The one thing Dean didn’t need right now was to be alone with his thoughts. But when you’re tied up, blindfolded, and gagged – all you have are your thoughts.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he thinks, ‘They made it look so quick in the show – how long was Daphne tied up whenever this happened?!?’

He gave up struggling half-and-hour ago. By cartoon law – old-school cartoon law – Dean was here until his friends found him, or the monster happened to let him go. And judging by how tight the rope on his wrists is, that won’t be anytime soon.

‘The perks of being the damsel in distress…’

Why couldn’t he have been live-action Daphne instead of the original? At least Sarah Michele-Gellar kicked some serious ass. She’s never the damsel – straight up.

But no, he has to wait for his knight in shining ascot to waltz in and free him.

Until then… all he can do is think.

‘I learned my lesson, didn’t I? That’s why whoever did this made me Daphne. To show what it’s like to walk a mile in her purple pumps? So get me out of here!’

…Nothing.

Well, until someone stumbles upon him, he might as well sort a couple of things out. Maybe if he hits the right epiphany, he won’t need the cavalry to come barging in. He can be out of this show and back to his normal life like before. …Unless the ropes and the blindfold and the gag come with, too.

He doesn’t need live-action Cas seeing him like this anymore than animated Cas.

And – ‘oh crap,’ – why did he have to think that? He doesn’t want to be anymore uncomfortable. But, this show must be PG through and through, because the familiar stirring and tightness doesn’t pop up.

…Not that thoughts of Cas and those warm, good feelings were well acquainted in the first place.

Those feelings popped up when a bartender’s shirt was a little too low-cut, when a waitress customer service became a little too friendly, whenever he flipped the station over to Scooby-Doo to catch sight of that special member of the gang.

In fact, that show was what kindled the roaring fire of Dean’s sexuality. He’s not ashamed to admit he popped his first boner to a cartoon – who hasn’t in today’s day and age. And who could blame him? That episode had probably been one of the animators’ best works. Just thinking about how each scene with Fred –

‘…With Fred?’

No, it must be Daphne – her personality is slipping through again. He’d always been jealous of Fred – the guy didn’t deserve what they gave him. He got to hold Daphne with his big, beefy arms, smile at her with his perfect grin, take charge when the goings got rough and tough and –

‘Holy crap,’ Dean realizes, ‘I had a crush on Fred.’

Dean is glad he’s gagged because he would rather not hear the hysterical squawk that tried to pass his lips. Instead he’s got to deal with the whirlwind of thoughts about things like perspective and clarity.

‘Somebody please come quick and save me!’

Nothing. He’s tied up, with no sight, no voice, and now he’s dealing with a gay panic. Why couldn’t he suffer the sixties bleaching everyone else’s thoughts had gotten. Instead, a single cartoon character has upended his entire near forty years of life.

‘Better late then never, though… right?’

So, maybe he had a crush on Fred. He’s man enough to admit liking another man. It’s not like it meant anything – he was a cartoon character! Those things are genderless, right? It’d only mean something if he had a crush on an actual human man.

And Dr. Sexy doesn’t count. Neither does Harrison Ford – Indiana Jones and Han Solo (‘like anyone could choose between those two’). Nor Gunner, that was hero worship. And Ryder, a kid he used to trade hand jobs with behind the bleachers, he didn’t count; those were business transactions. Benny didn’t either because he was a vampire. And if Benny doesn’t count then you better believe he’s not gonna count –

‘If you have this many exceptions,’ Dean thinks, ‘Maybe you’re not as straight as you think.’

That was the nail in the coffin of Dean’s heterosexuality. He salts and burns the corpse, just to make sure it doesn’t linger. Because now that he’s admitted it, he can’t go back.

‘Not like I’m fully gay anyway,’ he rationalizes, ‘Still like girls. I just… expanded my tastes.’

And no one says he ever has to act on those tastes. Dean has a good enough self-control, if he’s held himself at bay for ten years, he can handle the rest of his life.

‘Ten years,’ he thinks, ‘that’s specific.’

It’s not like there’s been anything in the past decade or so that started making cracks in the foundation of his sexuality. Nothing he can think of. Not one person. If there was, he’d have to be a bad-ass, a total stud, with a jaw that can cut glass and a voice that’s been bathed in shards and really intense baby-blues…

‘Maybe that’s why you’re Daphne,’ he thinks, ‘Because he’s Fred.’

And that’s when they find him.

“Like I said, I’m fine.”

Dean blushes at the concern, unable to meet Cas’s eyes. It was hard enough not to stare into them when they’re the only things he can see. Cas’s face was close and personal when he untied Dean’s blindfold.

He felt both safe and in danger at the same time – his fight or flight reflexes thrown into haywire.

Dean had been hidden away in a prop closet, and missing for a good few hours. Thankfully, Baby managed to catch his scent at some point, and the four of them found him.

“Lucky for us you’re so Danger-prone, Dean,” Sam says, “because of you, we were able to find a few more clues.”

“You were?”

“Yes,” Cas smiles, squeezing his shoulder, “And we’ve got nearly all the pieces to solve this mystery.”

Dean blinks – ‘I must have missed out on a lot,’ – “So what’s left?”

“The monster,” Cas smiles, “It’s time for the trap!”

The trap. Which means Dean is walking closer and closer towards the light. Too bad he still has to deal with the trap’s failure, the chase, and the twist capture. But the way Cas’s eyes light up when he details just how they’re going to capture the Specter… he doesn’t have the heart to say anything.

He’ll just watch it go up in flames and then – and then he’ll just make it up as they go.

And boy, does it go up in flames. Literally. Jack and Baby are lucky that they don’t get burned. But with the monster still running free, it seems they’ve got one thing left to do before they unmask this creep.

The chase montage; cue the groovy music!

Cas, Dean, and Sam hightail it out of there, making their rounds throughout the studio. They separate and group up in a bunch of different combinations. At one point, Sam, him, and Baby were running across a light platform with the Specter close behind them. At one point he thinks he saw Jack and Baby plop the monster down in a chair and slapstick some makeup on him.

And the doors – second time around doesn’t make it any less confusing. He thinks he might have been chasing the Specter at one point.

At least the music isn’t half-bad.

‘I wonder if anyone else can hear it?’

It doesn’t matter, as it fades away soon enough – leaving him, Cas, and Sam cornered by the Specter.

“You didn’t heed my warning,” it moans, “now prepare to pay the price!” He advances, claws up and getting closers. Dean huddles close to Cas, throwing his arms around his neck.

‘C’mon, where’s the damn miracle!’

“Like, watch out!”

Jack and Baby descend in the nick of time, riding the rope of a fallen sandbag. They jump towards them, letting the bag knock the Specter out in that non-threatening cartoon way.

“We did it!” Cas cries, “We got the Specter!”

“Now let’s get this show on the road, then,” Dean walks towards the Specter, taking the rope from the sandbag and wrapping it up in it before it could escape. He can feel the rest of the gang crowd around them, ready to announce the person behind the mask. Dean can’t wait, putting his fingers under the sweaty latex and tearing it from the neck up.

He didn’t expect who was under the mask, but judging by the cries of his friends, they knew.

“Dominic Pantomere!”

“What?”

Dominic glares up at Dean from his position, any trace of charm and glamour gone from his face.

“Just like I thought,” Sam says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Dominic Pantomere –“

“Hold it,” Dean cuts him off, “Just how does this make any sense?”

“It was obvious, really,” Sam continues, “Our biggest clue came from the trailer. While Jack and Baby distracted Dominic with questions about the show, I happened to find a letter from his manager, discussing needed reassurance that he’d be available for a new movie.”

“Which lines up with what we found in the producer’s office,” Cas continues, “It was written in shorthand – about a fight between Dominic and the producer about his contract. Apparently, he wanted this to be the last season. But with great fan appeal and committed backing, Dick Morrison would be going on for a long time.”

“Just beat that dead horse, why don’t they?” Dean huffs.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Dominic speaks up, just as security made their way over, “Do you know how disappointing it is to have this be my only career? I was promised fame, fortune, and awards – not a lifetime of servitude wasting my talent acting with less worthy actors!” The guards drag him up by his elbows, putting him at eye level with Dean, “I deserve so much more than this gig. I was named one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors! I was made for so much more than this!”

“Yeah, well it looks like you’re not gonna be made for much after this, bub,” he taps him on the cheek, “Have fun being an extra!”

“I was going to be a star!” he shouts, kicking and flailing against the floor, “I would have had it all… if it weren’t for you meddling kids!”

‘That never gets old.’

“Well… I think it’s safe to say that the Ghost Detective has closed his last case,” Dean jokes, turning to everyone.

Jack looks close to tears, sighing, “Why can’t I ever have nice things.”

“Rou ro, Rack,” Baby comforts him, “Rere’s rizza… randwiches… rice ream… raggheti…”

“Now I’m sad and hungry!”

“Come on you two,” Sam grabs them by their collars, “Let’s get you fed.”

“Like, thanks Sam!”

“Reah, ranks Ram!”

They disappear not soon after, leaving just Dean and Cas in the large, empty studio. A weird draft works its way through the building, and Dean takes a step closer to Cas and his weird warmth.

‘Fred and Daphne… Fred and Daphne… Fred and Daphne…’

“So, Cas,” Dean starts, licking his lips, “You must be very happy Dominic was under the mask… is that why you couldn’t wait to set up the trap?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Cas smiles, reaching out to tangle his fingers with Dean’s, “It didn’t make me feel bad, however. I knew there was something off about him.”

“You just didn’t like the way he looked at me,” Dean giggles, pressing his forehead in close. Cas darts his eyes to Dean’s lips, and he licks his own.

“But,” Dean continues, “I do like the way you look at me.”

Cas flutters his eyes closed, “Oh, Dean…”

“Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Dean?”

Dean blinks back into awareness, where Cas is looking over him with his usual head tilt. He jumps up.

“Jeepers!” he cries, “I’m back?”

“Back?” Cas asks, “Where did you go?”

“You mean you don’t remember?” Dean asks, “We were… we were back in Scooby Doo – but, like we were Scooby Doo. You, me, Sam… Jack – even Baby was there! But Baby wasn’t Baby, she was a dog!”

“Dean, you… you didn’t go anywhere.”

He shoots him a weird look. “What are you talkin’ about Cas? It was so… so vivid. I had to have been transported by some spell or ghost or… whatever.” Dean looks towards the TV – the new one he picked up from Wal-Mart, smaller then the haunted one. An episode of Scooby-Doo is playing on the screen.

“No, trust me, you’ve been here the entire time,” Cas starts, sitting on the arm of Dean’s chair, “You dozed off a few hours ago during our marathon. Remember? You wanted us to officially christen your,” he holds up finger quotes, “ ‘Dean Cave’.”

“I… I did?”

Cas smiles now, letting his hand drop to Dean’s shoulder. “You were really tired. I tried to tell you I could have waited for our marathon… but you insisted. I must say you were… very convincing.” His free hand plays with Dean’s red ascot, which is tied around his own neck. Dean blushes at the sight.

‘Fred and Daphne… Fred and Daphne…’

“I gotta say, you make the ascot work better than I could, hell… even better then Fred,” Dean says, voice rough and raw. Cas looks up at him through his lashes, smiling softly. “Was that what made you stay?”

“No,” Cas admits softly, “When I asked you why you wanted to do this now, even if you looked exhausted, you simply shrugged and said ‘It don’t matter, if it’s important you make the time.’ I… I was very flattered you consider our time together important.”

“It is,” Dean blurts out, clutching at Cas’s hand – the one on his shoulder, “Hanging out with you… there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Cas is giving him his special look. One Dean only now realizes… is his look. Where the lips pull up ever so slightly on the side, Cas’s nose scrunches up, and his eyes… they’re brimming with an untold energy. Like a pool struck by lightning. He always figured his racing heart, sweaty palms, and dry mouth could be blamed by the power that rested behind those eyes. But it was never that. It was because of the sheer feeling Cas communicated freely, and how much Dean’s body responded in kind.

“If you’re still up to it,” Dean whispers, afraid anything louder might break the spell between them, “I’m sure we can squeeze in a few more episodes before we need to get back to work.”

“I’d like that,” Cas admits, looking to the screen, “I’ve grown fond of this show. I can see why you love it.”

Dean’s eyes never leave Cas’s profile. “Yeah, I see why I feel that way, too, now.”

On screen the episode plays out, and Dean can’t help the small thrill every time Fred and Daphne pop up – grinning at the way she looks at him.

‘Yep,’ he thinks, ‘I'm a total Daphne.’

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn13 #Spn13x16 #13x16 #Scoobynatural #Spn Coda #13x16 Coda #Supernatural fanfiction #Spn fanfic #spn ff #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Destiel #Sam Winchester #Jack Kline #Scooby-Doo Fusion #Destiel fanfiction

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opendoorlorien · 7 years

Note

If your up for on more how about Kaze/Orochi?

OKAY KAZE AND OROCHI. THIS SUPPORT. (This is long but you have me the opportunity to get deep into this so here we go)

I actually find it to be a pretty interesting support. However I guess I have to get this out of the way first before I talk about these two, but I don’t really like Orochi. Don’t get me wrong I dont hate her or despise her by any means no. It’s just… I don’t agree with the way she goes about doing things. Personally I’ve experienced a few times the phenomenon of “liking a character AS a character, but disliking them on a personal level”. Like if you met them irl you would NOT be friends with them and would keep any interactions to a minimum. There are a few characters I feel that way about in Fates (not many in Awakening now that I think about it) and Orochi is one of them. So I dont really hate her by any means but like I can’t feel???? her hybrid rainbow, if you know what I mean okay (her support with Jakob makes me like mad tho omg. She made him hurt himself and put himself in a dangerous situation just for the lulz. Like geez sister..).

Okay so taking that into account, we know that Orochi likes to have fun. She likes to play her games and manipulate and trick people for her own amusement. And then there’s Kaze. The sweet… soft… goodboy. Who, you could say, words like naive and innocent are not inappropriate to use when describing him, yes. And then you wonder, or perhaps dread, what would come about when someone like him meets a sneaky snek like Orochi. WELL, actually, it’s kind of rather surprising.

Many of Orochi’s supports consist of her playing games and tricks on people, and they usually fall for it HOOK LINE AND SINKER. Because she’s a woman who usually gets what she wants.

However, surprisingly actually, in Kaze’s support that doesnt actually happen. For those who aren’t familiar with the support, it consists of Kaze accidentally scaring and surprising Orochi every time he appears out of nowhere because he’s got his NINJA BUSINESS. Now this kinda frustrates Orochi (it’d probably annoy me too I’m really jumpy lol) so they work out a compromise that Kaze wears a little bell that you can just barely hear, so Orochi can hear him coming, and then eventually catch him like a cat does a mouse, and learn to hear his NINJA BUSINESS.

So this goes on for a little while and it’s all fun and good times for a bit. And during the while you maybe start to think that yeah Orochi really is playin Kaze right now he’s about to get beaned dat boi RIGHT.

BUT THEN, EVENTUALLY, Orochi finally is able to perceive Kaze with the bell on and can hear him coming before he arrives. GOOD JOB OROCHI YOU CAUGHT KAZE. OR… DID SHE.

And then Kaze is probably the most fukkin savage he is in any one of his supports in the entire game and says

[[Orochi: Your days of creeping up on me are over. Now…I can pounce on you! You see? That was my ploy all along. Orochi, a mouse? Never! I just didn’t like getting outcatted by you. Now the hunt begins.Kaze: The hunt…for? Oh, I see.Orochi: You’d better start running, Kaze. Orochi is on the prowl.Kaze: Ah, just one problem.Orochi: Which is?Kaze: You may be able to hear a ninja—with a bell—but can you catch one? I’m fleet of foot. Gone before you can turn around.Orochi: But I trained so hard to outcat you! Maybe if you wear heavy chains…Kaze: Training is over, Orochi. For you… and for me. I’ve learned what I wanted to: what my threshold of detection is. Now I know. So, off with the bell. Back to the shadows. Thank you for playing my little game. It’s made me a better ninja.Orochi: Your game?! But this was MY game!Kaze: Heh. Was it?(Kaze leaves)]]

HOLYF.

So honestly I find it really surprisingly refreshing that instead of getting MEGAPLAY’d by Orochi, Kaze is actually the one who plays HER for a change (if we ignore their S rank, which I like to LOL. I’m going to let Kaze have this victory okay lol). Which is also funny when you take into account that Saizo gets SUPERMEGAPLAYED by Orochi in their support together. It’s actually kinda brutal how hard she totally destroys him on every fundamental level. She plays him right to his face and he just accepts it. Get it together Saizo oh my god.

So honestly I find Kaze/Orochi’s support amusing simply because he gets to turn her tricks back on her for a change.

And it shows that while Kaze is naive and innocent about some things, he’s NOT stupid and not gullible I suppose you could say (his naivete comes more from him taking things a bit too seriously and being SRS NINJ) but from this we know Kaze is not someone to be played for a fool. AND ACTUALLY, I have more to say about this.

So now we will proceed into the “I am reading way too deep into Kaze’s character to the point where I’m piecing together things that I’m not entirely sure the game makers even intended to be pieced together when creating his character, but they sure are there yo” section of this ….thing

SO. We all know that Kaze is, on a regular or semi regular basis, attracted by the unwarranted affections of women which range from verbal adoration, gift giving, to even love letters lmao poorguy. Now we never actually find out how long this has been going on for but honestly I think it’d be cute if when he was a kid little girls in the village used to give him love letters and stuff and he’d just be confused like ??????????????

And this is never stated anywhere so it could just fully be me REACHING. But it made me wonder that what if Kaze ended up running into a few bad women before? I mean the deceptive ones who play games and trick people for their own amusement (kinda like Orochi but I mean with more ill intentions. Orochi doesnt actually want to hurt anyone in a super bad way (she says anyway)). I mean like the kind of women who fake loving someone to get something they want (usually money or something like that) And Kaze sure aint rich so I don’t know why a succubus would try to prey on him. but the way he acts in Orochi’s support, and not just hers but Camilla’s too, makes me wonder that if he had a bad experience or two with a woman before.

Like if we look at his support with Orochi again, RIGHT AWAY he knows she’s a trickster and RIGHT AWAY he’s actually much more cool and curt with her than he is with any other rando army member. Like you can tell he has his guard up and is cautious around her, which is why he keeps conversation brief and lacks the usual softnice warmth he usually has when talking to others. Like from his dialogue I just feel that he doesn’t feel relaxed here and isnt going to be casual and chill. He knows to be cautious and careful around her so he doesn’t get played. He displays semi similar behavior in his support with Camilla when she keeps inviting him out for tea (we also know she is provocative by nature. Even in their S rank he said “At first I wasn’t sure what your game was” which implies he thought she had ulterior motives or perhaps ‘not above board’ intent).

This is just generally something I’ve noticed about Kaze in the both of these supports which leads me to believe he’s had one or two sour encounters with his female fanbase before. I like to entertain the thought anyway. Which is why the naturally sweet Kaze doesnt end up getting manipulated like you might think he would in both of these supports.

OKAY, so now aside from that. I don’t care for them together romantically. Like I said Kaze seems like he’s putting up a wall in Orochi’s support and kinda wants to not get too close to her. Though I do think eventually he finds his own enjoyment in the cat and mouse game and I do think he relishes a little in one upping her just this once lol. Because of their spice I’m sure they’d have an okay or so relationship. They have an interesting differing personality balance which I’m sure could lead to one thing or another. Personally it’s not really my taste though.

I’d mention eugenics here too but we know in Fates that eugenics don’t really matter aside from skill inheritance (even then) and hair color. All in all its far from my least favorite Kaze ship, but I generally avoid putting these two together even platonically. Like I said since I dont like Orochi that much I like to opt for using Hayato over her (I do think she has a great design though and I used her the first time I played BR).

So all in all its a ‘interesting food for thought support/10"

#inquiries #Anonymous #k this is fukkin LONGE and if any yall actually read all this I'll be surprised #most of it is just conjecture #btw I said this before but I will reiterate it as many times as necessary #but the only romantic Kaze ship I care about is his with Corrin #I'd basically never marry him to anyone else unless someone put a gun to my head #AND ITS NOT JUST BC I'M SELF INSERTING I SWEAR I MEAN LIKE THEY'RE GOOD FOR EACH OTHER IN EVERY WAY #so when I talk about other Kaze ships I just dont have an opinion on them romantically #I can only talk about them in a platonic sense #bc I just cant see them as anything beyond that #and it doesnt help either I'm not really a big shipper to begin with #even with my non Kaze/Corrin OTPs like #I would advocate them sure #but I wouldnt die for them #or let them consume my life #Kaze/Corrin is like an acception #BECAUSE I'M FUKKIN ACE #well technically demisexual if we want to split hairs here OHOHO #but ya there ya go

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cyriusli · 7 years

Text

Raventhief

So, like, I posted this a couple weeks ago with an outside link, but some things have changed in it and I just decided, fuck it, gonna post it here.

Some original stuff under the cut concerning a couple of my favorite Viking lore ravens. It’s pretty long, around 5k I think and is something I have been working on all semester. I have done hours of research, written and rewritten it time and time again and I fucking love it.

“For all-seeing ravens, you two were fairly easy to catch.”

Huginn stepped in front of Muninn, raising his wings and hissing at the human that sneered at them from the other side of the bone bars to their cage. Shaking his head, Huginn could feel the hazy fog-like remains of an unknown spell clinging to his senses. He could see the blue flare of his eyes reflecting in the human’s dark irises and it only made Huginn raise his wings higher and caw louder.

Whatever spells that were imbued into the bones had been hidden from them, making it seem like nothing more than the remains of an old kill. It had been the vision of blood and sweat that had lured them to that field. The scent of death was heavy as they soared over the mud trampled ground, looking for those who would be worthy of passing through the gates of Valhalla.

The battle had been fierce, rival clans rising up and surging against one another until few were left alive and those that remained were soaked in the blood of their enemies. Huginn and Muninn had seen it all, from the first horns at the break of dawn, to the last warrior’s victory cry around high noon.

Crows from their flock swooped in, screaming to the Valkyrie who waited to guide fallen warriors to the great hall. Huginn and Muninn had watched for a time before joining their kin in finding Odin’s chosen throughout the carnage. Soaring high above the field, the remains had caught the ravens’ attention; both deciding to investigate why none of the other ravens would go near it.

Powerful sorcerous magics were carved into those dry bones and Huginn knew it was going to take serious effort on their part to break the spell and be free of their hold. Maybe it had been stupid to take a closer look at the animal carcass that seemed so out of place in the middle of the battlefield, but curiosity had gotten the best of them in the end.

Huginn hissed, blue eyes glowing with his anger and he raised his wings in aggression as he stood tall on his feet. Muninn ducked low, his red eyes catching the heat of the fire as he screamed in rage at being put on display.

“Odin’s Great Ravens,” the human started, misbegotten pride in his voice. There was no honor in capturing them, and both of them knew Odin’s wrath would soon be upon the wretched human. It was not within their power to place a sentence to the human’s crime, but they would enjoy watching the outcome just the same. “Tomorrow you will tell me what glory awaits me so that I may go out into the world and claim it.”

The crowd of humans gathered round, roaring to life again with drunken cheers and shouts of congratulations. There was whispered talk of the gods’ vengeance, but it was hushed and drowned out with more ale and the temptations of hot food.

Muninn laughed at the human’s words. “You may not like what it is that we have to tell you,” he hissed, his voice low like the echoing remnants of a yell on the winds. “You may not like what it is that fate has in store for you.”

Their captor’s eyes went wide as he stood, grabbing his mug from where it sat beside their cage. “I will be the one to decide that,” he growled before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.

The two ravens huddled close to one another on the single perch in the cage, pressing their bodies flush and lowering their heads until they touched. Huginn could only feel rage at the situation, his thoughts narrowed to defending his other half. Despite their imprisonment, Muninn was calm, soothing Huginn and lulling him to sleep with his whispered promises of gaining freedom. He still didn’t exactly know how it was going to come about because the waters of Muninn’s visions were murky thanks to the spells cast upon them, but he reassured Huginn it was going to happen.

Muninn clacked his beak, red eyes focused on the people dancing and singing about the open room. Huginn stepped close, lifting his head to peer through the crowd in an attempt to find the one who had captured them. An unusual presence caught their attention and both ravens twisted to look to their right as a warrior approached their cage. He was carrying a large drinking horn, half falling into the seat at the end of the table near them. Resting his left arm on the wooden surface, the warrior crossed his legs at the knee and took a long drink from his horn, eyes surveying the crowd that danced and sang around them. “Funny, seeing you here.”

Muninn’s eyes began to glow as he hissed at the man. “Thor,” he started, weaving back and forth on his feet. “What brings you here?”

Huginn narrowed his eyes. “Do you come to mock us?” He asked, cocking his head to the side to focus his glare on the disguised god.

The thunder god waved his hand to dismiss their words. “I heard word of a feast and so I decided I would come to see what it was about. Imagine my surprise when I see that you two are the main attraction.” Smirking, Thor raised his drinking horn, casting a lazy gaze around the room before turning to face them. “That’s some powerful magic in those bones.”

“You can feel it, too?” The ravens questioned. The thunder god turned back to the crowd.

“Aye.” Thor nodded, keeping his eyes forward and suddenly sounding and acting far more sober than he had led on to have been. He lifted the horn to his lips, taking a small sip before resting it against his thigh. “I would know that power anywhere. I am surprised you haven’t figured it out for yourselves.”

“It is masked from us. It’s fooling our abilities from finding the truth to the spell.” The two birds spoke as one, their shifting tones coming together to form one powerful voice. One that could only be used in the presence of the gods themselves.

“Give the man what he wants.” Raising his empty hand, Thor pointed off to the far left of the room where the human who had captured them stood talking to a few other men, a young woman pressed close to his side. “Tell him what you see.”

“This cage binds us until we have done so.”

“Ah, yes; well, that makes sense.” Thor picked up the horn one final time, draining it of its contents before fully turning his head to meet the eyes of the two ravens. Huginn lifted his head, blue eyes glowing as the power he controlled hummed through him. Next to him, Muninn shifted on his feet, making the perch they stood on shake with his irritation.

Reaching out, Thor tapped the center bar to the cage, sending a tingle through the entire structure. The magics used to carve the runes into the bone cage became clear and both birds hissed at the same time, their feathers bristling as their rage bubbled to the surface. “Loki,” they both screamed, their loud caws echoing around the room.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Huginn and Muninn, but they didn’t notice as their eyes flared with their fury at the trickster god. Both of them watched as Thor stood, closing his eyes as he tipped his head in a slight nod. “The spell will be broken as soon as you tell him what it is he wants to hear.” With that, the god spread his arms wide, laughter in his voice. “Is the celebration over simply because the Great Ravens have screamed for the trickster? Let us drink and forget all of this!”

Cheers rang through the room and the two birds were soon forgotten. They stood there, feathers still puffed in irritation as they brooded silently; waiting for the moment that human would come to them and ask for his future. Then they could break free of his hold and be gone from this place.

It was long into the night, mere hours before the dawn when the merriment finally died down. The fire spit and hissed in its hearth, the once roaring flames licking quietly at the bed of hot coals they rested in. Most of the humans who had entered the large building had gone, while some slept with heads resting on crossed arms at tables. In the corner one man slumped against the wall, a beer mug dangling from his fingers.

Their captor was nowhere to be seen. Muninn dozed, his red eyes slipping closed, the low grinding of his beak bringing comfort to Huginn. Thor was gone, his presence simply vanishing hours before. His indifference angered Huginn, as well. The thunder god could have easily broken Loki’s spell, but instead he’d simply changed it, incurring their wrath and testing their patience.

Huginn briefly wondered if this human was a champion of Thor’s, but decided, it didn’t matter. He would consider it a better justice to see the human off to Helheim, carried away on the silent and stagnant wings of death, instead of being lifted to Valhalla. Muninn’s stance may have been different than his own, but he wasn’t about to wake him to argue over trivial things. In the meantime, Huginn counted the quiet popping of the dying fire until he, too, fell asleep.

Finally as dawn approached, the sun just cresting the mountains surrounding their location, their captor appeared. Wordlessly, he walked up to the cage, his gait heavy and staggered. Huginn thought him still drunk, taking in his unkempt appearance. Narrowing his eyes, the human threw the fur blanket from the day before over the bone cage, picking it up and moving from the table.

Muninn stirred from his sleep, his red eyes glowing in the shadow of the fur. Huginn leaned down, unable to see where they were going thanks to the length of the furs, but able to catch glimpses of the ground instead. They sat in a pensive silence as they observed their captor leave the lodgings to walk along a dirt path before finally crossing over onto grass. A few minutes later they were set down and a hand fell to the top of the cage, rattling the bones and startling a screech of anger from Muninn.

“I had a dream last night; a vision,” the human murmured quietly. Both ravens looked to one another. The tone of their captor’s voice was much quieter than it had been previously and they silently listened to his words. “The great Thor came to me and with him, the mighty hammer, Mjøllnir.”

The fur came away and the ravens blinked as the sun shone down upon them. The human sat on a rock a step away, hands laced together as he rested his forearms on his knees with his head bowed. Huginn and Muninn took in the look of the young man once more. He seemed somber this dawn, even if still slightly drunk. The two ravens stepped close to one another on their perch, their vision becoming one as they prepared to tell this human what he sought and be free of his hold.

“We do not care what the thunder god told you,” they spoke as one, their voices rising from a barely audible whisper to a loud shout that made their captor jerk away even from where he sat. Huginn and Muninn weaved back and forth on the perch, both of them wondering why it was that Thor had decided to visit the human in his slumber.

“I have always been fearless; seeking out battles to prove my strength and worth. Capturing you was another test of my valor. That was how I felt last night when I fell asleep and it is still how I feel now.” The human’s voice remained low and with the exception of the occasional flick of his eyes to look at them, his gaze remained on the ground as well.

The young warrior’s face hardened, his mouth set in a thin line as he picked his head up to look at the ravens. “Thor warned me of your wrath, but it’s already too late for me to change that. Tell me what I want to know.”

Huginn and Muninn felt their powers flood through them at the human’s command. Their eyes were glowing as the life of the man before them flashed through their vision. For the first time, they abandoned their anger to objectively contemplate the soul who lay bare in front of them; following the twisting ties of his life as it spidered out, weaving and intertwining with others until his dying breath.

“Stian,” Muninn hissed, weaving back and forth on his feet, red eyes glowing brightly. “One who will wander.” The human— Stian —sat up straight even as a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Huginn could already see that he was displeased with what they were going to say and all they had managed to breathe out was his name. He couldn’t help the surge of glee that ran through him; Stian deserved every bit of hardship they could see in his future. Rearing back, Huginn spread his wings as much as the cage would allow, screeching at the human as he did.

Settling down, Huginn pressed against Muninn as they continued to speak. “You will find what you desire far from these lands,” they started together, speaking as if their voices echoed one another.

“Will my name be known and feared throughout the lands that I cross? Will I acquire vast amounts of wealth and live like a king? Will I fight many battles for the glory of Odin and drink from the golden horns that sit on the tables in Valhalla?” Stian leaned forward, new excitement in his words as he rambled his questions in one hurried slur.

Munnin inhaled to speak. “All that you seek—”

“And more.” Huginn added resentfully, unable to stop the words tumbling from him.

“Shall be yours.” Muninn’s voice rumbled through Huginn and he knew that it shook the very bones in Stian’s body as well. He felt the other raven stiffen, his head tossing wildly as the words continued to pour from his mouth. Huginn stepped closer to him; the urge to protect him overwhelming. When the other raven fell deep into his premonitions, nothing could shake him free until he was done. As Muninn continued, his eyes were glowing as bright as the early morning sun. “Man and woman alike will fear your name, yet seek you out on the battlefield, and after you accomplish great things, you will eventually die, carried to Valhalla on the wings of the Valkyrie.”

Stian’s face lit up, Muninn’s words pleasing him and he nodded. His mouth parted as he licked his lips in preparation to ask more questions, however, a low hum filled the air, cutting him off, and with a resounding crack, the spell broke on the cage. The carved bones splintered and shattered as the magic that held the ravens captive gave way.

Wings flaring, both ravens took to the sky, circling over Stian and screeching their displeasure. Their former captor stood, head tipped back toward the sky, watching them. Huginn was impressed that Stian did not flinch, even as Muninn dived at him; threatening him with taloned feet extended only to break away at the last moment to swoop back into the air.

“I am not going to apologize for my actions, Great Ravens,” Stian’s voice carried on the wind as Huginn and Muninn rose higher into the sky. He cupped his hands around his mouth so his words could be heard. “But I must thank you for giving me what I sought and I only hope to live up to the warrior that you have seen in your visions.”

Muninn looked over at Huginn, his red eyes still glowing and Huginn could see fire dancing in the other raven’s irises. He knew that Muninn was still very upset; not only at being unable to see their capture, but at the life of renown the human below was going to lead. Despite capturing them, the gods still seemed to keep him in their favor and Stian would eventually gain all that he sought in life. There was nothing more that they could do here. With one final dive at the young man, the two ravens took to the sky, letting the winds carry them high into the clouds and letting Stian fall from their thoughts as they flew out of sight.

It wasn’t until years later that Huginn and Muninn thought of the young man once more. They both sat on the top of Odin’s high backed chair in the great hall of Valhalla, dozing where they perched as they listened to the merriment around them. Munninn ground his beak together, crimson eyes falling shut as he leaned on Huginn, who stood firm, looking out across the many tables to the drunken cheering and boisterous laughter of the numerous vikings who sat around them.

Without warning, the hall’s doors were pushed inward, opening silently under the strength of the Valkyrie. Both ravens fluffed up their feathers, but thought nothing of the group of warriors that were entering, each one accompanied by one of the maidens of Odin. As the warriors came forth, many found friends, family and even occasionally a lover, among the tables. The roars and cheers that rose to welcome the newly fallen echoed off the high ceilings, vibrating through the two ravens. It was common, comforting, and Huginn found himself slipping into slumber as he stood on the back of the highest chair overlooking the rest of the hall.

When Odin stood, pushing the chair back, both birds were startled fully awake, wings flaring to keep their balance, as they cawed in irritation at their master’s actions. Odin, himself, seemed displeased as he raised a hand toward one human who dared step up to his table. While Odin didn’t mind sharing his hall, his food and his wine with his warriors, few dared to draw near the great table where the mightiest of their gods sat.

“Let him speak,” Thor spoke from Odin’s left side as he picked up his beer stein, swallowing a large mouthful. “Surely one of my champions has great reason to approach us.” Odin looked down at the thunder god before he slowly sat back into his chair.

“Ah,” Loki began, sitting forward in his chair on Odin’s other side and lacing his fingers together. “I remember you.”

The warrior in question fell to one knee, bowing his head forward before he spoke. Huginn and Muninn turned their heads in interest and listened to his words. Despite the noise, the man’s voice rang loud and clear to those of whom were willing to listen. “Mighty Odin, I come before you to humbly ask a request.”

“What is your name? I would know who it is that comes to my table.” Odin nodded as Huginn and Muninn looked on with curiosity. It could have only been a combination of Thor’s words as well as the humble approach that kept Odin from simply sending the man away.

“The name given to me by my father is Stian Tougard.” The man’s voice was solid; with not even the slightest hint or waiver of fear. The two ravens looked at one another, that name sounding familiar from a time they had forgotten. “But you may better know me as Stian Raventhief.”

“Raventhief?” Odin asked as both ravens screamed in rekindled anger. They remembered him now; the one who’d managed to capture them with the help of Loki, was champion of Thor and walked the lands knowing what lay in store for him in his future. “Aye, I have heard of you. You’ve proven yourself a great warrior over and over. My son did well in finding you.”

Odin fell silent as Huginn and Muninn continued to yell their rage at seeing Stian again. “How dare he come to this table!” They screamed together, their voice as one. “How dare he approach after what he did to us!”

“Settle down,” Odin waved a hand at the two birds and they shied away from him, while still glaring down at Stian, who had not spoken another word. “What is it you would ask of us, Stian Raventhief?”

“I ask to address the Great Ravens.” The warrior remained where he was kneeling, the tension in his shoulders visible. Muninn cawed once before hopping down from their perch to stand on Odin’s shoulder. Stepping foot over foot as he walked down their master’s arm, the red eyed raven drew closer to the table, gaze never leaving the man. Huginn followed suit, coming to stand on the table next to Muninn as they cocked their heads to the side in question. This warrior, who knelt at the foot of the table, was not the same man who had schemed to capture them years before. Not only was he a fair bit older and battle-worn, but even his soul seemed different.

“My ravens have not rejected your request,” Odin began, giving a nod. “Stand and speak.”

Only now did Stian lift his head, meeting the red and blue-eyed glares of the ravens. He remained where he knelt, taking a deep breath and never looking away. “Please,” he started, looking to each of them in turn. “Huginn, Muninn, forgive me for my foolishness when I was young; I know now that I was wrong.”

“Interesting,” Loki purred from where he sat, raising an eyebrow as a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “Such noble words.”

“Spoken like a true warrior!” Thor raised his mug in cheer, tipping his head back to drain it fully before someone appeared to fill it once more.

“Hush, both of you.” Odin gave each god a glare before turning back to Stian. Huginn knew that Odin’s eyes were upon them, wondering what it was the two birds were going to do. Huginn, himself, was unsure of how to respond to such an apology and he turned to look at Muninn for guidance in this matter.

Muninn was staring directly at the man, his red eyes dimly glowing as he looked Stian over. Huginn didn’t sense the same hatred he had previously from the other raven; instead he felt only a reservation of judgement. Clacking his beak, Muninn leaned forward, hunching his shoulders and partially flaring his wings. “Why is it that we should forgive you for your selfishness when you were young? A fool is still a fool, even if he has had the gods’ protection.”

“Have you not gained all that we foretold?” Huginn hissed, stepping close to Muninn as his blue eyes flared in anger. “Were you not happy with the future you stole from us?”

“I was very happy, for a time.” Stian shook his head, his voice low and even. All around them voices roared with laughter and song; the other warriors enjoying the hot food and good drink. Yet, instead of joining them, Stian had first come to seek their forgiveness. “I soon found my happiness tasted bitter, like ash in my mouth, and I began to loathe the knowledge I knew.”

“So you harbored ill will toward us all these years?” Muninn hissed the words, pacing back and forth along the edge of the table. His eyes flared brightly and he cawed in rage at the human who still knelt before them. Huginn was grudgingly impressed at that. He had yet to even try and move from his vulnerable position at their feet.

“No,” Stian’s face dropped and he truly seemed taken aback by Muninn’s words. “No, Great Ravens, not at you. You did everything that I asked of you, even if it was through trickery and wrongful doing.”

Loki laughed before trailing off with a sigh, but otherwise remained silent where he sat. Neither Odin, nor Thor spoke at all as they watched. They all seemed to understand that this was between the two ravens and Stian and there was no need to interfere.

“Then what?” Huginn demanded, spreading his wings. “What caused you such grief that you could not even enjoy the spoils you ripped from us?”

“Myself,” Stian spoke plainly. “It was my own greed that took away the joy of the life that I lived. There were parts of it that I still found comfort in— my children for one —but knowing I would obtain fame and glory before I did so ended up not being as fulfilling as I thought it would when I asked it of you.”

“Ah,” Thor finally spoke up. “The Seer’s Curse. There is a reason they talk in riddles.”

“Only you came to the purest source. A source that doesn’t speak in the twisted tongue of the Seer’s game.” Loki added knowingly.

“What is it you are saying, Stian Raventhief?” Odin asked, head held high and voice rumbling with thunder. Huginn and Muninn twisted their heads back to look at their master, their anger slowly abating as they, themselves, wondered what it was that Stian was after.

“I am saying, I regret knowing what lay ahead of me and that I fear I may have missed some of life’s greatest lessons before my journey was complete.” Stian bowed his head once more. “And I beg for the Great Ravens forgiveness for my selfish acts when I was young. I thought myself clever when I was nothing but naïve and foolish.”

“Naïve and foolish is what you still are if you think your words alone can placate us.” Muninn raised his head high, looking down to Stian as the man lifted his head once more.

“You trapped us, humiliated us,” Huginn bobbed his head, weaving back and forth on his feet. “Demanded of us and now you want us to simply forgive that treachery?”

“I have nothing but my words left to offer you.” Stian’s voice remained low, his tone humble and apologetic.

“You have much to offer us,” Muninn hissed, eyes glowing brightly. “And we will take it.”

Huginn felt Muninn’s thoughts flood his mind and he jerked his head back as the idea struck him. He’d never thought of such a thing, but as he looked over to the other raven, he knew Muninn’s mind had been made up. Huginn stood with Muninn, nodding in his agreement to the other raven’s unvoiced words.

“We want your soul.” Muninn paced across the table, eyes trained on the crown on Stian’s head. “We demand payment and since we cannot have it in blood, we will take it in the only means we can.”

Stian looked up, eyes widening in hesitation before he licked his lips. “Whatever it is that I can offer you to make up for my wrong doings, I will gladly give you, Great Ravens.”

Huginn narrowed his eyes as he studied the character of the soul that flowed through Stian as he knelt before them. Indeed, this truly wasn’t the same selfish human that had captured them long ago. He’d grown, he’d changed; Stian had matured. Despite having led the life of a brave warrior, he was honest and humble before them now as he waited for whatever judgement they were about to pass on him.

“We demand that you are to join our flock.” Muninn craned his head back as he spoke, eyes trained on Stian, who remained unmoving where he knelt.

The last word had barely left Muninn’s beak before Loki spoke up, interfering like he always did. “Excellent.” The tricker snapped his fingers, a resounding crack echoing throughout the hall, drawing everyone’s attention, including the ravens. For a moment there was absolute silence as everyone looked on. Loki grinned, feral and cat-like as he waved a hand to dismiss the entire occurrence. “It is done,” he commented, gesturing with his hand toward where the human had been.

When they turned back to Stian, a black raven stood before them, dark eyes looking up at the Great Ravens in horror and fear. Stian’s thoughts flooded Huginn and Muninn’s mind, as did the thoughts of all raven kind. Stian was unsure of how to react or what to think, his heart pounding in his chest and blood rushing through his veins.

Next to Huginn, Muninn’s aura hummed in approval and flooded with calmness as he directly spoke to Stian. “You should be thanking us, truly. You will be one of our many voices that watches over the human world.”

“The freedom this opportunity gives you is more than you deserve,” Huginn added, watching as Stian spread his wings and tested their movements. The two ravens looked on, a sense of foreign pride swelling in their chests as Stian took to the air, flying gracefully around the hall before disappearing into the rafters with the numerous other ravens that dwelled there when not out scouting across the world.

“He will remain that way until the Great Ravens feel they have been given their justice,” Loki’s voice was barely above a murmur; the soft spoken god grinning madly as he picked up his cup to take a drink. “Only their word can break that spell now.”

The leg of a goose was pointed directly at Loki as the thunder god yelled, voice ringing out across the hall. “What have you done to my champion?”

Loki raised his hands in mock-surrender, quietly going back to his meal even as a smirk made it’s way onto his pale features. Huginn and Muninn turned their attention to Thor. “Stian Tougard,” Thor firmly reminded the ravens. “Is my champion and you have no right to treat him this way.”

“The Raventhief,” Loki butted in once more. “Wanted to know his future and was granted the means to do so, the Great Ravens have every right as far as they are concerned,” the trickster chuckled despite the glare being cast his way by the thunder god.

“This was all your doing to begin with, Loki,” Thor spat at the other god. “Just stay out of it.” Thor waved a hand toward the rafters. “I think he has paid his due, by his own words, he regrets ever asking such things of you. Let my champion be free of your wrath, Great Ravens, and allow him to drink his fill at my father’s tables.”

Huginn and Muninn cawed in disdain at Thor’s demand. Huginn could feel an annoyance bubble through Muninn that matched his own, and was not surprised when the other raven spoke. “He is ours now and we will free him when we feel he has atoned for his wrongdoings.” Thor scowled at them, rising to his feet and jabbing a finger in their faces as he inhaled to speak.

“Do not think to sway us,” Huginn added, cutting off what they knew would be an attempt to change their minds. “He will remain ours until the end of time.”

“That is not fair,” the thunder god snapped, flinging a hand into the air. “He is one of my chosen, a great warrior and he deserves the afterlife all Viking warriors receive.”

“He also sought out the Great Ravens and trapped them to gain that knowledge. Are you one to reward such selfish behavior, Thor?” Odin spoke up, casting his stern gaze toward his son.

“He humbled himself when he first approached your table, Father, asking for forgiveness.”

“And the ravens have not granted that.”

“Father—”

“Sit down and stop making a fool of yourself, Thor!” Odin’s voice cracked with thunder as he spoke. From their place on the table, Huginn and Muninn hissed, just as angry that the thunder god tried to gain what he was after by swaying Odin himself. “The ravens have spoken. Stian Tougard is theirs now.”

Thor slammed his mug down, splashing ale across the table, but he didn’t speak further, instead brooding in silent anger at his father’s side. Huginn and Muninn turned their attention to Stian, who perched in the rafters above the gods’ table already mingling with the other ravens that called Valhalla home. There was no need for them to speak as they both looked at the small raven.

Huginn and Muninn still felt a hatred toward him, most likely never forgiving what it was he had done to them. Already Stian’s voice was mixing with the rest of the flock and it wasn’t long before neither Huginn or Muninn could single out the once-human’s voice from the rest. The Raventhief was theirs, and would remain so, even after they fell from grace, as all gods did eventually.

#original work #huginn and muninn #viking lore #let me know what you think #i seriously worked my ass off on this

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