#the level of feral I am for him is only a fraction of how feral he is

[arctic-oceans]

7 snippers, 7 people

Thanks for the tag @jay-avian, her post can be found here!

Sadly I didn't really understand what the rules are, so maybe I'll post seven snippets on seven characters that have been found in wgw.

This was a funny moment for me since I am not very far into my wip yet and I had to think... Have I introduced seven characters? No, no I haven't.

Juno Braudshaw

The seconds before the lightning stroke, there was silence. As blinding light tore the sky in two, the water subdued for a moment and the static in Juno’s mind quieted down. Juno couldn’t remember when was the last time they bowed their head down and cried, but the ugly sobs rose up their throat as they sucked in desperate breaths– they’d rather let their lungs burst open full of oxygen, not by the lack of it. Hot tears chased each other down their face in streams, dripping into the Ocean and ragged tremors shook their frame violently. There was no part of their body that didn’t hurt, but something about the way their throat throbbed made them wonder; it was as if someone had dug their nails deep in the sensitive skin of their neck and scratched it raw. 

Ioh Park

Juno had been broken long ago, and there was no hiding it from Ioh. On nights when it seemed like the dawn would never break, Juno and Ioh spread their beddings in front of the oven, and perched by the ashes. Only then would Ioh speak of the Second Level, in a voice softer than the feeble fire flickering in the half burnt coals. He spoke about the Ocean, and how when the sun set, the waves would turn to the colour of ripe wine and sometimes, the words stuck to his throat and he would choke on them as he reminisced the ship’s prow and the Ocean air.

Aston Metcalf

Indeed, the Stairs were visible from the train window- it hadn’t taken long before they had protruded from the summit of the Poppy Hill, although they were still blurry in the distance. Aston wasn’t sure he could have missed them even if he wanted to; he had been looking for them ever since they had boarded the vehicle- his eyes transfixed to the filthy looking glass and desperate to catch ahold of them. His heart slammed against his rib– pounding, each pulse the beat of a drum as they got closer and closer to their destination. Maybe he wouldn’t be so consumed by the idea of it had it been any other ride; but it wouldn’t leave his mind, like a feral animal trapped in a cage, ceaselessly circling the corners.

Sadly, these are the only three who have been mostly mentioned so far that are worth showing some snippets of. But here are some more:

It was even more crucial that their mathematician was worth the price they had paid for. Aston got five delhias for a day’s worth of work in the fields– sometimes, during the Summer months he might have even gotten one menha had that year’s crops been fruitful. The scholar got six hundred menhas for the calculations. A wage of a hundred days for Aston. If the estimations were incorrect even by a fraction, he might as well have killed them all before they attempted the ascent.

What once was restlessness turned into a drinking problem. Aston would snatch old bottles of aged wine from the cellar and run away at night. He’d race through the wheat fields for hours until he was panting for air, and his limbs heavy with exhaustion, and once he decided he was lost enough he’d drink himself to oblivion. He’d do anything to help him forget. He preferred the little world in his head anyway.

It wasn’t possible to climb anymore– the Stairs were too slippery. Juno’s arms were trembling with exhaustion as they desperately hung on, but they refused to loosen the death grip they had on the ladder’s metal pole; despite their bloodied palms which were scraped raw by the sea salt and the agonising pain that had almost overcome their consciousness, they couldn’t let go. As long as they were alive, they had to keep trying; they owed him at least that much.

When Seihen left, he took Ioh with him. He returned the boy to the Reformatory two days later, with a missing shirt and his back covered in inflamed cuts oozing pus made from a whip with a nasty anger. Ioh didn’t make the same mistake twice after that. Akin to the way the wind once shattered windows and doors in its passage, while now it only whistled softly through the empty rooms of a house, Ioh stilled. When there is no one in the building  to mourn what has been destructed, no matter how hard the wind blows, its spite will never be nothing more than an airy breeze passing by.

Soft tagging @imaginativemind29new @withlovelunette @obviousknife @wolfsong02 @albatris @tabswrites @cream-and-tea @cherrybombfangirlwrites @captain-kraken @faelanvance @bardic-tales @ladyazulina

[mamawolfblood]

The female who loves Ferals 2

Part 1 here

-----------------------------------------------

"She will be dead mid cold season." Iris's father said holding his female's hand. "Why did you send her away? She is my cub you and Mary always did everything to hurt her. You think I didn't hear you tell Mary to take the male that wanted Iris. Marry abandoned him soon after. I hope the beasts deity is cruel to you all. My poor cub I am so sorry I couldn't protect you." She cries making the males look sad. One got up was going to go look for Iris. "No she is not our concern anymore. She was a waist of resources and is where she needs to be." Her father growld.

"PAPA! IT'S BAD FIVE SNAKES ARE HEADING THIS WAY! A FEMALE IS WITH THEM I THINK SHE IS A KIDNAPPED FEMALE!" Mary yells from the ground. "I want every male ready to fight. He yelled before heading out with the other males. What he found shocked him and the other tiger males. Sitting on one kings tail in a white snake skin dress was Iris.

Iris pov

Ghost took his shed skin and made a dress for me.

(It looked like the first outfit Curtis made for Bai)

"Now you are one of us we can make you close out of our sheds so you will alway be beautiful." Ghost said hugging me. "He is right when we get to the village and settle, we will get to work on it." King said before picking me up. "We are leaving now." He said before leaving the cave. They changed into their serpent form making the forest animals run. I spot a few Tiger males running to the village. We stop at the entrance King placing me gently on his tail. I tiger tried stepping forward only to stop in his tracks. All five Snakes glaring at him. "Hello father I believe you owe me something." I said feeling this strange confidence. I don't know why but I'm not afraid. "Yes you do owe her something for the pain you caused." Sahara growls he looked menacing. "And if you don't give it to her. This village will no longer exist." Djin said cleaning his teeth while smiling at them. "I don't think we need to threaten them. They know its no problem for us to flatten this sorry waist of space." Ghost laughed his eyes on my father. "Boys that's enough we are here to negotiate terms for a place to stay. Let us not stoop to their level " I said standing up. "You think your hot shit now you have spouses! Your nothing more than a desperate female. You gave yourself to ferals. No wonder none of the males wanted you! Papa kicked you out how dare you come back." My sister yelled making me laugh. "At least I don't need to rape a male to be my spouse. At least I don't abandon them when I get bord of them. So please remind me who's the desperate one?" I said crossing my arms. "I don't care that you have males now. You are not welcome here! So get lost Feral loving whore!" My father foolishly yells making my males hiss with anger. "Djin,Sahara Ghost kill half of the females and males. I want you to leave a small fraction of what this village used to be. Leave the sick and weak. The cold season will do the rest." I said realizing just how little they care for me why should I. Screams filled the air while King handles me some bubble fruits. "You did eat this morning flower please have these. We will get some meat later." He said gently running his fingers threw my hair. He looked so calm what is this feeling. I don't understand it and why does it make me happy. The three come back covered in blood. "We should probably head for the city they can't turn us away sense we have a female." Djin said "We will once the cold season passes for now we will stay here. It will be warm for flower and less risk for her. We don't know if he has eggs or not. We put her needs first." King said carrying me into the village. It smelled like blood crying females and cowarding males are all that remains. It's going to be a long cold season but this I hope is a lesson well learned for them. King sets me down on some warm furs. "Let us clean up you stay here ok flower. Salem you watch over her till we get back." King said leading the others out to clean up the village. I lay down feeling a bit tired the last thing I see is Salem wrapping around me.

[pineaberry]

Fictober 2019: #14

Star Wars: The Old Republic.

Inspired by all the Quinn love on my dash, here it is: 

The Transponder Station Pt. 1!

For all my Quinn fam:

@sunsetofdoom, @fluffynexu, @doomhamster, @riajade01, @aliyamirat, @kunoichi-ume, @cinlat, and the great @semper-draca

________________________

It was easy to fool someone so completely in love with you. Academically, Malavai knew this. He had been trained as an agent and a skilled tactician his entire life, yet never before had he felt such a sickening emotion in the pit of his stomach as he brought the charade to it’s only logical conclusion. His orders were clear. Lord Tremas was not to reach Corellia.

They were orders from a man who had reached into the pits of hell and pulled him to safety.

They were orders from a man who had kept Malavai’s powerful enemies from destroying him.

Baras had saved his career, his life. Without him, Malavai was certain he would not be drawing breath today.

He stepped forward and laid out the trap. Pierce, for all his blundering idiocy, was quick to seed doubt even if it was just as an attempt to undermine him. Quinn corrected the larger soldier though he hardly needed to justify his findings to a simple grunt. Instead, he turned his attention to his Sith Lord.

"Without a signal emitter with Corellia space clearance, we will be noticed the minute we enter the system. But I have a solution," the lie flowed out of his lips easily. A part of him was surprised how she simply drank up his words with the ease of honeyed poison. Nothing, not Pierce’s doubts not Madaga-Ru’s warnings detracted her. 

Tremas’s trust in him never wavered. Why should it? He had proven himself loyal to a fault. He had wormed his way into her life, making himself invaluable... sharing her bed. 

A grave mistake on her part.

“That’s what I love about most, Quinn. You’re my answer man,” she smiled with a proud glimmer in her eye. To his credit he didn’t flinch as he replied by clinically giving his suggestions.

It was easy. Too easy. Too simple. Too clean…

It would be impossible were it anyone other than him. Another point to Baras’ for having the foresight of placing him as a double agent. He was here so that when Tremas’ time was over, she would follow Quinn to her death.

The matter now settled, they plotted a new course to the transponder station. Tremas smiled and hugged him from behind before nuzzling his hair. Selfishly, he indulged in her affections. Cynically, he sought comfort in her arms so he would have the courage to finish his mission.

He knew himself to be a manipulative bastard. Such was the fate of a spy.

The hours seemed to speed up to a blur. Time… he wanted more time. More time here, where they could still be lovers beholden to no one. More time where there was no other person in his universe. If only he could just draw out the minutes before he crushed her trust. If only he could remain loyal a moment longer.

But it was not to be.

They arrived at the transponder station and he grimly checked his blaster and equipment before joining Tremas in the docking bay. Tremas gave him that same elated grin she always did when they were about to plow into a mission head on. Adrenalin flowed through him making the dread in him manifest as nausea.

“You know the drill, Captain. Cover and assist.”

“Of course, my lord.”

She ran headlong into the noose he had fashioned for her and his heart ached.

The elevator rang out and three droids emerged. She leapt forward and lashed out, keeping their attention on her. She made short work of them before darting into the corridor. Less than a few yards, she stopped as though sensing something was amiss.

“Captain, stay behind me.”

The phrase was like a gut punch and he clenched his jaw. It shouldn’t surprise him, Tremas had always played the part of his protector even at the risk of her own life. It was reckless and the action brought a contradictory anger within him. 

Why couldn’t she have been ruthless? Why couldn’t she have been cruel? Why did she have to be so gentle… so kind… so stupid as to trust him? Why couldn’t she have hated him and killed him on a whim?

Baras was brilliant in his cruelty. She was too inexperienced, too idealistic. There was too much light in her. She was gray, corrupted...

Impure.

And he loved her for it. No amount of reasoning would take that away.

He could sense her unease grow and focus to a pinpoint as she found the station desolate. 

They’d arrived. The killing floor was set. As much as he hated himself, he irrationally resented her all the more. He hated that she had loved him, that she had trapped him in a gilded cage, that she had made him need her. He hated that it made this all the more agonizing.

His hands were ice cold as he stepped forward and left his place at her side. Ice encased his thoughts as he steeled his resolve and he felt it all grow distant, as though he were watching a play. 

The blast doors slammed shut and Tremas frowned.

The curtain lifted.

“My lord, I regret that our paths must diverge. Out of respect, I wanted to be here to witness your fate,” the words were well rehearsed and they didn’t fail him. They were delivered with a cold precision and he clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking. He was well-versed in espionage and intelligence. It should have been easy to betray her. I should have been effortless to rip out her still beating heart, and yet...

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Your senses have always been keen.” the truth spilled out in smooth phrases and eloquent excuses but that was all they were: excuses.

Tremas watched him with disbelief at first. His sharp words were carefully chosen to cut away her naive notions on love much like skinning a rabbit. Betrayal doused her her like ice water. Its icy tendrils coursed through her veins chilling her to the bone. She had willfully turned a blind eye to the danger he posed and now she would pay the price. A single phrase burned against her mind like white hot coals: “Baras is my true Master.”

He would go against the Emperor in this madness... of course he would. If he could turn on his own lover, then treason was easy. She remained stoic as she felt her heart slip out of her chest and shatter on the cold metal floor. She felt that same chill become an invasive heat as humiliation and heartbreak followed in its wake.

Perhaps he expected her to plead a case for his love; to beg him to remember the moments they’d shared. Perhaps she expected her to cry or demand to know how he could do this. Any other woman would ask if their love had meant anything to him, but to her the question was redundant. 

Tremas already knew it didn’t. 

Asking would only give him another chance for him to wound her and she never exposed a weak spot twice. She stared into his eyes evenly as her pain began accumulating dangerous levels of force energy. She wasn’t defeated, not yet. Pain turned into outrage. Outrage into hatred. Hatred into power.

“I thought you were smarter than this...”

The barb stung more than it should have. Irrationally, even now he abhorred losing her respect.

“I’ll show you how smart I am!” he bit back and the entire sordid plan poured out of his mouth like a torrent of floodwaters as though that would somehow prove anything. As though his cleverness would spark something in her detached gaze. 

If he was expecting a surge of anguish he was sorely disappointed.

“Sounds grim. I know how thorough you are, Quinn. I’m sure this will be my greatest test,” she replied grabbing her dual blades and just like that something changed. It was as though she had removed a mask and thrown it down between them. Her gaze was piercing and downright feral. For a fraction of a second, Quinn felt as though he’d lost his footing and he was now facing some unknown variable. Nevertheless he steeled his resolve and tackled the challenge head on.

“And if I’m right, your last.”

Malavai’s heart raced. 

I can’t come back. There is no coming back from this.

________________________

Read More About Tremas HERE!

Original Fictober Promp List HERE!

[mishaelle-starsong]

A Tuneless Requiem

Scarred, callused fingers played over the harp strings with little direction, lofting gentle disharmonies into the air. She could have made something from them, could have chosen a piece to play, but why? There was no audience to please, no events worth praising. Something for Elune, perhaps? No, nothing for the goddess. The Moon received her worship in the aspect of the Night Warrior now, and Star had left offerings all over Darkshore.

The coincidental unsong continued unabated, doing little but providing a focusing outlet. Her mind was… not what it once was, she supposed. Not a deterioration of function; rather she felt the edges sharpening again. She'd been mostly feral in the past. As the remnants of "civilizing" fell away, she knew she was becoming so again. I shouldn't let myself go. It was a thought she acknowledged without necessarily agreeing to. There were reasons to be wary, yes, but they were few.

A sudden confluence of notes produced a chord she thought she recognized, sliding her play into a learned pattern before she noticed what was happening. The song was an old one, full of meaning, though she couldn't recall the proper name anymore. The words escaped her as well, though they felt on the edge of her consciousness. She couldn't blame them for being evasive: most of her mind was being drawn back through years of memory.

Most of what she saw was painful. Vae was there, her quiet strength filling the space in her mind that was now vacant in her heart. A decade wasn't much in the span of a Kaldorei lifetime, but their decade had meant more to her than any other. It hurt, but she let the memories in anyway. A little suffering was fine; what was a life without it?

"Do you remember how we met?" The voice was clear in her mind, a perfect crystallization of Vae's gentleness. "You arrived in Shattrath such a mess, covered in blood and mostly incoherent. Your friend was there, too, though she seemed in much better shape. You said you'd jumped out a window, using your own body to cushion her landing. None of us knew why you'd done it, and you never did explain…"

The story went on, flowing over and through her, narrated by the most important voice in her life and one she expected to never hear again. There had been some flirting, of course; back then Star had done so regularly and one's options became extremely limited while recovering from a broken leg. It had become more than that, of course. The drift from joking to hesitant to serious had taken nearly a year. She'd told Vae her real name shortly after that, providing a clear demarcation of the change in status.

"Misha," said the voice, laughter clear in the way the name was formed, "aren't we such a pair? Both too stubborn for our own good, intent on keeping even the worst promises we make, no matter how they hurt us. Oh, mush'al, we're the most perfect fools, aren't we?"

Star nodded slowly, a tear escaping her good eye. How long since she'd been called mush'al, beloved, in their shared tongue? How long since she'd heard it without the heartache caused by her actions? How long since--

She twitched aside, the arrow burying itself in the thick wood of the harp. Others were coming, she knew, but this was nothing to her. Star was rolling, turning, evading, even as she calculated the source.

"Very rude of you," she said, loud enough to be heard, "to interrupt a private performance with violence. I suppose undeath shouldn't be expected to improve manners, should it?"

Another arrow missed, narrowly; the next deflected from her blade.

"Come now, sister, surely you have something to say. I would like to hear it before I kill you. Believe it or not, I do care about our fallen." She paused to deal with a barrage of projectiles, weapons blurring with the speed of her movement. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You left us to die," came the accusation, twisted and hollowed out by the cruelties of undeath. "Keep your lies."

Under the hatred was something recognizable, something she'd heard years before. Familiarity. Where? When? She let her memory range as she continued her circuitous trek.

"Is that you, Myrastra? No, you don't have to answer, I know it is. Do you recognize my voice? It's understandable if not, we've both been through so much since then." Incongruously, she found herself laughing. "I guess we could say the same for the stronghold, too. Just a washed out ruin off the coast now. Rebuilt or not, it's not the same. The new one isn't really home for us, is it?"

The growl was quiet, off to one side, not as distant as before. It preceded the creak of a bow being drawn, also barely audible, providing better direction. Star dove from the ruined building in the opposite direction, fractional seconds ahead of the next volley.

"Shandris spoke highly of you. I should have been more open with my praise, too. I wasn't good at it then." Another chuckle. "Not that I'm any better now, but I sometimes manage to recognize when someone deserves to be told something clearly rather than assuming they know. I was never a good leader like that."

"Then shut up," the risen Sentinel hissed, an arrow accompanying her words. "Shut up and die."

Star ignored the request. "I can help you, you know. Not give back your old life, but at least free you from this one. It's bad enough to find yourself enslaved by the foolish descendants of the Highborne who fled rather than be reasonable. I can only imagine what it must be like to have them be undead as well. The levels of abomination are striking, no?"

A snarl, filled with words. "You're hardly one to talk, Illidari. How you even found time to betray us is-"

"Shut your fool mouth, Astra." Even she was surprised at the anger in her voice. "I'm as Illidari as you are Azshari."

Conversation paused briefly, arrows providing their own input.

"These runes," Star continued, "are not a sign that I follow the Betrayer. I helped recapture him, you know, and would have gladly removed his head given the chance. My tattoos exist because, like you, I would do anything to save our people and this world. Others fought the Legion. With these markings? I destroyed the Legion."

The fallen Sentinel was silent then, though her bowstring continued to sing. She was nearly in position. Star decided to delay her death, hoping to get through first. She owed one of Shandris's troops that much.

"You died for our home, as did so many before you. I sacrificed the only happiness I've known since the Sundering to keep this world whole. We share the same commitment, Astra, the same goal. I just haven't been twisted to serve the Blighter."

"I serve no one!" The cry of denial would have been more believable if the accompanying shot had been remotely steady.

"You're doing what Sylvanas wants," Star went on, "even after she burned Teldrassil. She poisoned our lands and murdered our families, and now you help her make it even worse. You can't blame this on being 'betrayed', Myrastra. Every one of us knows we may have to give our lives in defense of our people. I'm sorry you died like that, but don't make it worse."

She found shelter in the moonshadow of a great tree, waiting. No sound from her opponent for a minute, then another and another. Nothing at all until the keening wail split the darkness, standing every hair on Star's body on end. Hardened as she was, it still put a shiver down her spine. Beneath the cry, though, she heard something else and something more: the latter was regret, the former a bowstave snapping.

The one-eyed warrior rushed over to the risen Kaldorei, ready to kill at the slightest hint of deception. Myrastra was on her knees, staring into the sky without seeing, clutching at her eyes. Bloodless furrows had been gouged into the flesh of her face; the curls of skin were still stuck under her fingernails.

"Astra," she said as gently as she knew, "it's not your fault."

The blank gaze lowered to her, the undead expression still one of shock. "I… let her make me one of them," she whispered, horrified. "I became one of them. A tool, a… a traitor. Goddess help me, I…"

She trailed off, leaving it to Star to put more words between them. "You're not the only one. But you're not a traitor. You didn't get a choice. What she did to you is… irredeemable, but that doesn't mean you are."

Myrastra shook her head, unfocused once more. "I can't. I don't know what's happening anymore, I'm losing it all suddenly, I… who are you?" Her voice lowered further. "Who am I?"

"You're Sentinel Captain Myrastra Duskarbor, one of General Shandris Feathermoon's officers. You're a skilled archer, a good leader, someone your troops can look up to."

"No, I… I don't think that's right. I'm… I'm fairly certain, actually, that I… that I… that-"

A softer heart would have been caught offguard then, but Star had never been one of those. Whatever cruel magic Astra had broken free of reasserted itself, contorting her features once more into a mask of hate. She ignored the undead Kaldorei's dagger entirely, twisting so as to let it get buried and stuck in the part of her side where it would do the least damage. That left her free to cleanly separate the head and body with a quick stroke of her sword.

She cleaned her blades and sheathed them before removing the dagger, grunting as it pulled free. Star held it out without looking, knowing her constant companion was nearly there. "I don't think it's poisoned, Ora, but you should check to be sure. There's no burning indicating it, and most of the time they only apply it to arrows anyway, but assumptions get people killed."

The young druid resumed her elven form to take the weapon, turning her focus toward its bloody blade. "I sense no toxins on this or in your blood upon it. What about your wound, Shan'do? Shall I heal it?"

Star glanced down then back to her peculiar apprentice. "No, I don't think so. The runes would likely interfere and it won't slow me down while it heals."

"But it may leave blood that would allow us to be followed."

"Very true. Excellent thinking." She didn't smile but her eye reflected the approval. "No healing, though, we'll just burn it closed."

Orellanine nodded. "Will we also burn her?" She pointed to the decapitated remains.

Star shook her head, sighing. "No. We'll… I'll carry her with us and we'll make sure she's properly dedicated to Elune. Myrastra deserves that much for breaking through. I almost regret killing her."

Ora didn't ask why. Star didn't elaborate.

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Changing (1)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, X-MEN, DEADPOOL

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  Sequel to Name Calling

After merging with your bloodthirsty alternate personality things start getting a little dicey. You’ve got two decades worth of anger to sort through, a feral mutation to figure out how to live with, a biological father who you hate trying to teach you control and if your wedding planner suggests teal for the bridesmaids again you might just eat her liver.

Luckily you have Bucky Barnes by your side, helping you figure things out. What Bucky doesn’t know is that you have found an outlet for the uncontrollable rage, one that absolutely nobody can know about. If your friends and family knew that you were out slaughtering people in the dead of night while they slept, they might be a little annoyed. Wade Wilson is happy to keep your secret though, so long as you keep bribing him with Mexican food.

For as long as you could remember, all you had wanted was to be good. Now you’re seeing the temptation in the darkness.

Chapter One - I’m Thinking Red

The walls were painted with blood, the thick viscous liquid dripping onto the floor to join the puddles of it staining the floor. Bodies were strew across the room, discarded like broken dolls and the screams that had echoed through the warehouse only moments before had given way to an eerie silence.

“I’m innocent, I swear!”He whimpered pathetically.

“Hmm, do you believe him sweetie?” You called out.

Deadpool popped his head through the broken window to see what was going on.

“No snookums, I don’t.”He said, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers.

“Me either.” You said with a savage grin, one the soon to be dead man crying at your feet couldn’t see.

“Please, I can pay you!” He pleaded.

You laughed and pulled your mask off.

“Do you think I need your money? I’m a God damn Stark.”

He went pale and stared trying to crab crawl away. You swung your hips as you slowly stalked after him.

“Peaches, what did I tell you about playing with your food?” Wade reprimanded you.

“Fine.” You huffed.

You put your foot on the mans chest and pushed, revelling in his gargled screams as you broke his ribs. It only took a few spluttering, bloody coughs before he died.

Wade slow clapped when you were done and you rolled your eyes, swinging out of the window to join him in the parking lot. There were bodies out here as well, these one’s were on Wade though.

“Wanna get food? I’m starving.” You told him, shaking your hair out of the hood and shoving the black and white mask into your bag.

Deathwave the Avenger couldn’t be seen killing people with a merc so hiding your identity was important. When Wade offered to let you tag along on his jobs you agreed to his stupid terms. You wore a black and white mask that looked eerily like his and you bought him dinner.

It was a small price to pay for access to warm bodies to take your anger out on and he kept his mouth shut. If your father (either of them) or your fiancée knew what you were doing they would be annoyed, concerned and disgusted. Not necessarily in that order.

“I’m in the mood for taco’s.” Wade said, hopping up in down in excitement.

“You got it boss.” You snorted as he slung an arm around your shoulder and led you away, singing Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves at the top of his voice.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When you padded into the kitchen the next morning Bucky was sat at the table reading the newspaper. Ignoring the headline (GANG MEMBERS FOUND SLAUGHTERED) you pushed the paper out of the way and sat on his lap.

“You were out all night again.” He said coldly.

“I fell asleep on the couch after Vanessa and I were looking at Wedding magazines.” You lied easily, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Hmm, find anything good?” He asked distractedly as his fingers crept up your sides.

“I’m thinking red for the bridesmaids.” You muttered breathily.

“I can’t believe you’re insisting on Bridesmaids and a Best Man.” He sulked.

“Sam’s got to be in the wedding Bucky!” You insisted.

“Damn right he does!” Sam shouted as he walked into the kitchen.

“Aww come on! We eat there!” He said, looking sick when he saw you and Bucky.

“So we do.” Bucky said, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Y’all are nasty.” Sam huffed.

“You have no idea.” Bucky said, smirking at you.

“I do not need to hear the details of my best friends sex life!” Sam all but shrieked.

“I do!” Darcy yelled, skidding into the kitchen.

“Morning Lewis.” Bucky said, nodding to her.

Bucky and Darcy had struck up a terrifying friendship or as you had taken to calling it, an alliance.

“Mornin Darce.” You said, waving to her with Bucky’s coffee cup which you had nabbed.

You took a sip and frowned. You and Bucky didn’t take your coffee the same way but coffee was coffee so you shrugged and drank it anyway.

“Good morning Miss Stark, would you like to go over your schedule for today?” Darcy asked you in a brisk, professional tone.

You snorted and waved for her to continue as Bucky shifted you in his lap so you could see Darcy and he could see his newspaper.

“You have a meeting with the wedding planner at 3, both of you. This morning though you have an interview with Modern Woman, your mom is going to sit in for that one. Then you have a Skype call with Peter Parker.” Darcy rattled off.

You groaned loudly. Ever since you had been made public you had been hounded by journalists. You weren’t just an Avenger, you were a Stark, it was a tantalising combination. Pepper finally convinced you to start doing interviews like all the other Avengers had to do from time to time.

Tony had talked you into finding a life outside of heroing and forced a Stark internship upon you.

Between being mentored, interning, wedding planning and being a celebrity you were so busy that Pepper had hired you an assistant. Darcy Lewis had taken the position temporarily until you found somebody permanent. It worked out well as Darcy was using the time to train for being The Avengers assistant.  

“I can’t make the meeting with the wedding planner.” Bucky said.

“You said that last time, we had to reschedule.” Darcy pointed out.

“I can’t make it either.” You added.

“I make your schedule, I know you’re lying.” Darcy said, levelling you with a look that was almost as scary as one of Natasha’s.

“Darcyyyy. Can’t you and Pepper just go instead, you plan the wedding.” You whined.

“No. You’re the one’s getting married. You have to plan it.”She informed you.

Your gently headbutted Bucky’s shoulder in annoyance.

“I suppose I had better go get ready for my interview.” You said, gritting your teeth.

You turned to gently kiss Bucky on the cheek but he turned his head and caught your lips. You got a little lost in the feel of his lips against yours as you kissed him back, running your fingers through his hair. Sam didn’t appreciate the show and threw an apple at Bucky. You caught it in mid air before breaking the kiss, snarling at Sam.

Sam looked taken aback and raised his hands in surrender. Your hand was wet and you realised you’d crushed the apple to a pulp. You quickly stood up and smiled at Sam, hoping he’d believe you had been messing with him. Thankfully he bought it, flipping you off for good measure as you left.

You wiped the sticky apple juices on your pant leg as you hurried down the corridor. You hadn’t meant to snarl at Sam and immediatley regretted it. You really needed to get a handle on this before you did something worse than snarling.

You needed to book another appointment with Doc Samson ASAP.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Thank you for your time Miss Stark” The interviewer said politely, shaking your hand as she left.

“It was a pleasure, really.” You told her as your mom shepherded you away.

It hadn’t actually been as bad as you had thought it would. You would reserve final judgement until the article was printed though.

“You did well.” Pepper assured you as she walked you back to your room.

“Is it over? Am I allowed to talk to her now?”Tony demanded, walking towards you both.

Pepper rolled her eyes and pushed you towards him.

“Pepper wouldn’t let me near you until you’d done the interview. Something about me being a bad influence.” Tony told you, trying and failing to look innocent.

You sniggered at him.

“I’ve got to go Skype Peter, are you coming to see the wedding planner with us after?” You asked him.

“Uh huh.” He looked like he’d bit into a lemon as was smiling through the pain.

“You know, there’s still the option of eloping...” You offered.

“Absolutely not!” Tony and Pepper snapped at the same time.

“Fine, fine. Big over the top Stark wedding it is!” You surrendered, walking away with a wave.

“Hey Kit Kat? I was looking over the guest list and I was wondering, aren’t you going to invite... him?” Tony asked.

“Nope!” You yelled without turning around.

You jogged back to your room and turned on your laptop in time for the annoying Skype jingle to ring out. You hit accept and Peter Parker’s face filled the screen.

“Hey Baby Stark.” He grinned.

“Spiderboy.” You retorted.

“Ok, I did the schematics for the new prototype like your dad asked. I’ll email them to you now.”

“Perfect, I’ll look them over and pretend I understand them.” You sniggered.

Interning at a tech company would be easier if you understood even a fraction of what was going on. Tony and Peter were trying to teach you but it was not an easy task. For any of you. You were starting to suspect that you just weren’t cut out for it but Tony was really insistent that you find something in you life that didn’t involve Avenging.

“It’s just a rechargeable battery that helps devices run on clean energy.” Peter tried to encourage you.

“As opposed to dirty energy.”

“Hey, Global warming is a real threat.” Peter insisted.

“What’s Global warming?” You asked with a straight face.

Peter looked stricken before he launched into an explanation. You’d quickly worked out a cheat code for these intern meetings. You asked Peter to explain something you already knew, pretended to listen then thanked him.

It was foolproof.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Do you have a minute?” Dr Banner asked as you made your way to the meeting room to meet the wedding planner.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“We destroyed all the samples you provided, we need fresh ones.” He said apologetically.

“Destroyed? Nothings working?” You asked despondently.

“I’m sorry. Dr McCoy has some theories but so far everything strong enough to destroy the mutation would also destroy...”

“Me. You can’t remove it without killing me.” You finished.

“It’s only been a few months, these things take time.” Bruce said, trying to cheer you up.

“I’ll stop by before dinner when everyone is eating to give you fresh samples.” You told him.

“Alright, I’ll see you then. I assume that means you still don’t want to tell Tony?”

“Tell my father I’m subjecting myself to experiments to try and destroy the Vernichtung mutation? Yeah, no. He’ll just worry.” You said, sighing.

Before he died, Docherty had called Vernichtung a disease. After that day you had asked Bruce to find a cure. So far he was struggling but you were holding out hope. It wouldn’t change what was going on in your head but it would change you having the power to rip people apart by the hundreds.

“It’s your choice but I think you should consider telling him.” Bruce said gently, patting you on the shoulder and heading back to his lab.

You couldn’t tell anybody, they would try to talk you out of it. They’d rather you were a danger than in danger. So you just added it to the list of secrets you were keeping.

You took a deep breath and centred yourself the way Logan had taught you (you would literally die before admitting his tutoring was helpful) before you walked into the Wedding planning meeting with a false smile.

“Miss Stark, so glad you made it. I was starting to think you weren’t coming, which would have been a shame because I brought some lovely fabric samples for the bridesmaid dresses!”The shrill woman you despised told you as soon as you walked in.

Bucky and Tony were sat at the desk, Tony looked like he was considering killing himself and Bucky looked like he was considering killing everyone.

Pepper and Darcy were looking at you pleadingly as a thick folder was shoved into your hands.

“These are all teal.” You grumbled.

“No silly, they’re ceruleans and sea foams. You said no teal.” She admonished.

“We’re going with red for the bridesmaids.” Bucky snapped.

You were mildly impressed he’d remembered what you’d said at breakfast.

“Red? Hmm, no I think a nice blueish green colour would suit the women better.” The awful woman tittered.

“Red. It suits them all and we like red.” You stated, shoving the book back at her.

“Well this is my job, trust me. You don’t want red.” She rebutted, trying to pass the book back to you.

“I don’t trust you at all, you’re a terrible listener, you’re pushy, you’re irritating, you have no taste, your voice is shrill, your fake life makes me want to rip your head off your shoulders and kick out of the window and you’re fired.” Is what you wanted to say.

“Could we see some red samples anyway? Please?” You asked sweetly.

“Hmm, well I’ll see what I have.” You said placatingly.

You rolled your eyes and threw yourself onto a chair between your father and your fiancée.

They leaned in at the same time and whispered to you.

“I’ve changed my mind, you can elope.” Tony said.

“Can we get Friday to fake an emergency?”Bucky asked.

“Now I only have a few red samples but I think it’s enough for you to see that I’m right.” She said, passing you a few scraps.

“I’m a Stark. Red is our colour. The grooms-men are wearing blue.” You told her.

“We are?” Bucky asked while Tony practically vibrated out of his chair with pride.

“You always wear blue and or black.” You told him with a shrug.

“Yes but..” The woman began.

“She said red, you heard her. Stark red. It’s an actual colour on the spectrum now. For the amount we’re paying you, you should be able to find it.” Tony interrupted her.

“Of course Mr Stark.” She said with a polite smile, turning to make a note on her tablet.

“Why does she listen to you and not me?” You whined.

“I exude authority.” He said.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you pulled it out, frowning at the number.

“Oh damn, it’s Avengers business!” You said loudly.

Darcy and Pepper looked up from the samples and narrowed their eyes at you.

“I’ve got to take this.” You said apologetically.

“We all do!” Bucky said, shooting out of his seat.

You he and Tony ran out of the room before anyone could stop you.

“Who is it?” Tony asked.

“No idea.” You said as you answered.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“We can’t keep it.”

“We can’t just release it, it’s been experimented on. Who knows what kind of mutations it has.”

“Well what do we do with it? We can’t leave it here.” Jubilee said sadly.

“I have an idea.” Negasonic told them.

She pulled out her phone and called someone.

“Yo, Deathwave. Do you want a pet?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

WE ARE BACK!!! Just a little chapter to catch us all up and ease us in. Do you like? (I really really hope you like)

Sooooooooooo, what's this nonsense about a pet??? What do you think it's gonna be? :D

I’m just using the tag list from Name Calling but you can ask to be removed, I won’t be offended or ask why.

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first @thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala @the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the--real-wombat @buckitybarnes @fairislesheets @angieptt @meganjonezzzz @dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty @memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone @piscesbarnes @free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot @captainamericasbeard @dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews @likes-to-smell-books @drdorkus @life-wanderer @metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky @jsmith509 @chipilerendi @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @ericasabe @gravedollie666 @madlykpopfan @l0kisbitch @mywinterwolf @sassysweetstories @life-wanderer

[zombriekid]

Indoctrination: the First Palpitation [Jacob Seed/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Far Cry; Far Cry 5

Summary: your attempt to take jacob’s life backfires on you

warning: brief mentions of a panic attack; pov rule break

  The wood is chipped, fragmented, splintered around a hole about the size of a grape- a hole that wasn’t there just a few seconds ago. (fast) Midday’s sun gleams off of the metal found in the hole (.50 cal round), and in record time he realizes that a. he never even heard the shot coming (gun modification; suppressor) and b. the bullet landed where his head would’ve been had he not paused. (sniper)

  Someone just tried to kill Jacob Seed.

  Now the man is by no means a fool; he’s the head of the militant flock, of the Project’s security; he’s alpha over the Judges, master of the mountains, herald in the north, and the Father’s most beloved Soldier. Because the oldest Seed has built a blood-soaked reputation from the foundation of ruthless and sadistic cruelty, subscribing to a darwinism philosophy and enforcing it on his men- culling the herd, as it were- he has procured an ever growing list of enemies as long as the Henbane River. So yes, it’s a secret to no one that hundreds of people across Hope County want him dead, hell some of these sheep have hated him so much that they’ve risked their lives trying to end his themselves, but no one… no one has ever gotten so close to succeeding.

  And this near brush with death makes his heart stutter ever so slightly.

  Instead of giving in to the adrenaline, however, he allows himself a single cycle of deep breaths while the liquid cold in his veins relaxes its invasion. If nothing else to bide time until his head clears up enough so he can properly assess the situation.

  First the trajectory of the bullet.

  Even the weakest of the flock can figure this one out: the propulsion of a gun’s blast fires the bullet in a straight path, especially given the power behind a sniper rifle, so if he looks away from the hole in the compound’s wall…

  A rocky incline with smudges of green grass, young patchy spruces, and even sparser brushes across the way; considering that the offending rifle has a silencer modification then the would be assassin is seeking some level of stealth, and in the forests of the Whitetail Mountains this feat can only be supported by wearing the proper garments in the shadows of the trees. Target’s location found.

  Now the sniper.

  Obviously they must possess at least a modicum of skill with a sniper rifle seeing as how they nearly painted a fraction of the Wolf’s Den with Jacob’s brain matter- would’ve been profitable too had he kept moving.

  But not only that there still hasn’t been a follow up shot, something that kind of serves as a signature to those Militia cowards, and he has yet to note any disturbances in the flora on the incline. Trained. It’s not one of his though. The Chosen and the Hunters use poisoned arrows to execute their prey, more likely to suffer a slower death that way.

  … He has a hunch, a feeling in his gut that fills him in on this succulent mystery because there’s only been one person in the entirety of Hope County who has been reigning sheer hell down upon the Project...all from the safety of the shadows.

  Jacob takes the fastest route to the closest radio so he can test his theory.

_______________________________________________________________________

  The Soldier lives.

  The Soldier breathes.

  The Soldier walks.

  All because you missed your shot.

  The sensation of ice pours down the contours of your spine; it drains into your wrists and your hands and it kisses your fingertips until your extremities begin to quake. Because you missed. You can’t seem to fill your lungs deep enough, and the rapid incomplete inhales and exhales robs your brain of the oxygen it needs. You’re light headed because you missed. Eli, Wheaty, Tammy, Jess, every single one of them and more are going to continue to suffer at Jacob’s hands because you fucking missed his fucking skull!

  And the absolute worst part of all of this is the fact that somewhere deep down inside your chest you feel a percentage of relief.

  The radio at your hip chirps before his voice comes through the static mere seconds later. “Oh deputy, didn’t your academy teach you to shoot to kill? I’ve heard that cops are… rather fond of that.”

  A taunt, though not one born from childish immaturity or smug superiority (this isn’t the youngest Seed brother)- he’s aware of your social condition so it’s not as if he expects you to verbally respond/react. It’s likely that he’s seeing if you’ll take the bait.

  “I have to admit I am pleasantly surprised, rook.” He says with a rough, chafed cadence not unlike a beast. “See I figured, after our last session, that you’d avoid the mountains like it has the goddamn plague… was certain that I would have to be the one to come after you. Yet here we are.”

  With little grace and even less reverence the rifle slips from your hands and collapses to the ground near your feet with a dull thump. You feel… strange. Heavy. Like you’re standing on the precipice before a storm; something’s brewing, your instincts warns, and the fine hairs all over your body rise with the pebbling of your skin.

  “Maybe you are due for more… therapy,” he voice rumbles quietly, “you did just try to kill me after all, though you failed spectacularly. Seems that there’s still some weakness I need to beat out of you. But don’t worry, there’s hope for you yet, so stay put..

  “I’ll come get you.”

  It’s foolish.

  It is goddamn foolish and you’re going to look back on this moment with such colossal self hatred that it’ll taste like bitter, rotten fruit in your teeth.

  But when the feral cry of a drug-addicted wolf reaches your ears from down below, your sense of fight or flight kicks into autopilot and it drives your legs into a burning sprint away from the Wolf’s Den like a bat out of hell.

  You proved his theory correct; you took the bait.

_______________________________________________________________________

a/u: not my best, but it was kinda nice being able to focus on something else for a bit. the reason this is titled the way it is is because i MIGHT do something for the other seed siblings, but that isn’t for certain. we’ll see. if you liked my work then please give a like, leave a comment, and reblog it so other people may enjoy it as well <3 all y’all are cash money and i love you

[inkognito97]

The sweet date of Obi-Wan and Satine during which Obi-Wan suddenly realizes that Satine is a Sith. Of course, his first thought was to take her and went with her on Coruscant to achieve the Jedi court or something like that. However Satine is successful in persuading Obi-Wan that she have nothing against him. It would be simply delightful if it will be nsfw but I have nothing against just very passionate kisses.

It was romantic, decided Obi-Wan. He had been reluctant to sneak out of the palace with the blond duchess, only to watch a couple of stars from under a tree that stood lonely on a small hill. It was risky, especially if someone were to see them. He was a Jedi Master and Satine was the duchess of Mandalore, it was not supposed to be and yet… and yet he had succumbed to the sweet temptation of love and had followed the stubborn female.

Speaking of which, Satine was currently sitting between his legs with her back to his chest, while the Jedi Master himself, leaned against the massive trunk of the tree.

“I love the stars,” said the duchess all of a sudden. A small smile played on the ginger haired man’s lips, it was mostly hidden behind his beard. “Just imagine, all the different planets and suns and moons… think about the different lifeforms and of course the beauty of nature.”

Obi-Wan hummed. “Mandalore is beautiful too.”

Satine turned her head to look at her Jedi, only to freeze at the intensity of the look he was giving her. He may have said ‘Mandalore’, but he had actually been referring to her. 

“Yes,” she agreed slowly. She turned her intelligent blue eyes back to the dark sky that was only illuminated by countless stars and one big moon. “Though it would be more beautiful, without the war.”

The arms around her waist tightened just a fraction. It was only a small hint, but it made clear that he was agreeing, on some level. “The war IS terrible,” he agreed slowly. “but we cannot simply stand down and watch while the Separatists and the Sith enslave the whole galaxy.”

A humming thought escaped the female. “But are they? Enslaving the whole galaxy, I mean?”

“Satine,” his tone was hesitant and questioning.

“Think about it, Obi. Why would so many systems and planets join the Separatists? If the Republic were as good and the democracy as fair as the Senate wants us to believe, then why are there so many, who are willing to fight and to die?”

She did not need to look to know that there was a shocked expression on his features. She could read it in his unguarded Force presence. Obi-Wan never guarded his Force presence, not when she was the only one around. 

“What are you saying there? This is not something you should joke about.”

“I am not,” she was serious and pulled away from his warm and comfortable embrace, to look him deep into the ever changing blue-green eyes. “The Republic is broken, the democracy is a lie and the Jedi Order,” she scoffed, “They have sent two Jedi, one of them a Padawan, on a mission, despite having been warned that a Sith warrior has been seen. Qui-Gon would not have been killed by Maul’s blade, had that Council of yours seen reason much sooner, my dear Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan furrowed his brows. “I never told you the Sith warrior’s name,” he replied slowly and carefully.

Satine blinked, before she let out an humorless chuckle. When she opened her eyes again, they were yellow and Obi-Wan would have pulled back, hadn’t it been for the tree at his back. Instead he found himself pinned by the blonde female, on whose face an evil grin slowly appeared. 

“No, you didn’t,” confirmed Satine. “And you have no idea how glad I was, when I heard that you killed that slimy bastard.”

Obi-Wan shook his head in denial. “No… this can’t be. Tell me…. this isn’t true.”

“You know just as well as I that this is the reality, my dear Obi-Wan. Live in the moment and ask the Force for guidance. It will tell you the truth,” she scrawled closer to the ginger haired Jedi.

“Satine,” his voice was broken and there was so much hurt in his voice. 

Slowly, so that she would not startle him away, did the female Sith raise her hand, putting it on a bearded cheek. “I am not evil, Obi-Wan. I’m still me,” she said softly, subtly using a Force suggestion to calm him down. 

Obi-Wan visibly relaxed. “You are the enemy,” he sounded apologetic and if he regretted having to say that.

Their faces were only inches apart now. “I don’t have to be,” she said.

“I won’t leave the Jedi.”

“I know,” and she sealed the male’s lips with her own, stopping any kind of protest. When Satine pulled back, there was a comical expression on the bearded male’s features and before she could react, was his gloved hand on the back of her head, pressing their mouths together again in an almost feral kiss.

“Promise me that you are not like them,” he pleaded between kissed. “Promise me that you are still the Satine Kryze I’ve gotten to know.”

“I promise,” Satine replied without hesitation. It was the truth. She was still the same, she just did not have to hide anymore. It was not like she wanted to dominate and rule the whole galaxy, but she wanted to make a change, she wanted to cause a reform and a revolution. This was her reason for joining the Sith, the Sith who - under Sidious leadership - were loosing their original goals. If the corrupt man continued this way, she would not hesitate to give his identification to her new lover.

Speaking of which, a small moan that could also have been a whimper, escaped the Jedi Master. The sound was slightly muffled by their tongues battling against each other, but Satine had heard it nevertheless. A smile appeared on her features. This night might turn out to be fun after all.

[frostkingoftheapocalypse]

Grievances

kissofmistletoe:

Loki’s calm tone was barely registered in the roar of anger that curled beneath Baldr’s skull. It was a red fog that curled in the blood vessels of his eyes, that beat a fast taboo in his ears, that lay like a storm on his tongue. It dampened all senses until the god was little more than an animal, reacting at each movement, each emotion insinuated in the speech, each shadow. There was no control over how his sinews tensed and how his muscles moved, there was no sense to the fight.

The stag punched and kicked, movements that unwilling jötnar had drilled into him slowly becoming innate, slowly refining the beast into a weapon more sensible. But at the end of each punch came nails to rip, with each irate growl were teeth to shred. The god was far from tamed, a stray still feral with hackles raised and eyes of fire.

And all they saw was blue.

Blue skin, above a babe innocent on a bloodied pedestal, blue skin between bars, coaxing a toddler to their first steps, blue skin with eyes of scorn and wariness looking down at the breathing corpse.

All he had ever seen was blue, and anger wished to make the world red.

‘’Why was I born gold?’’ snarled the fury and fire, as the torches upon the walls quivered violently in their cradles.

Another hit, fist unfurling and reversing to scour, to sear with nails and burning flesh the blue before him. If he could not bleed, he would make another do so.

‘’They say I should return to the darkness, they say I belong back there, forgotten.

I will not, I willnot return!’’

A shake of his head and the beast stepped away, a shudder running down his spine. The light flared for a moment, a desperate attempt to rid his mind of the memories, of darkness, ever-darkness, of hunger and stone and thirst. It passed in little more than a moment, before the eyes that were engulfed in pure, shining gold turned back to Loki once more.

‘’They ordered a babe to be locked away! They ordered a chain to be put on a child, and had the cruelty to leave the light burning as he cried!’’

The hit was hard, the full force of the Áss’ body moving in unison to drive his fist into Loki. The hart’s teeth came close to cobalt flesh, breath dispersing like scalding steam into the air between as Baldr moved to shove, to tumble the mighty king who so foolishly tried to calm a god.

‘’And they call me the monster?’’

Shaking were the steps backwards, shoulders hunched as talons wrenched at the black mane of hair. Useless were his tugs, there was little more than a sensation of pressure. Frustration, frustration, a storm inside of him… In his core, nothing more than sadness.

A tear fell, a drop of water that hissed and scalded the ground as it collided.

‘’They call me the monster.’’ A tone change, the roaring animal gone, a child’s tremble instead. ‘’Why?’’

In silence the accusations were hurled desperate into Loki’s face, sharp-edged slivers to pierce the soft flesh of his unwavering gaze, like sand kicked up between strengthening blows, threatening to blind him, to have him crumble and curl and weep for the pain that clawed his empathy to bleeding. He, the Son of Farbauti, the very monarch of those who had wronged this being. A Jötunn and a King - a monument of everything that had destroyed Baldr’s youth. Baldr’s family. Baldr’s birthright. Since the day the truth had come to light, so gravely Loki had been aware of it. In every interaction, every decree.

And yet was because of this, the wretched image that he stood ground upon, that this day the King could also become more. To be of use.  Áþreifanlega Áminningu. The touchable reprimand. It was a concept grasped only years after Loki’s adolescent, gangly mess of bone and absent muscle had been first split upon these marble floors, when the wrong-doing against a peoples had amassed an un-repayable debt, a need for justice, of any kind, in unbearable levels. Their victory against what he represented, a fleeting moment of peace for them, tiding them over just long enough to continue on with their lives. Those that were not caught, regardless.

Objectively now, with age and the calming of bitterness, the monarch had come to understand this. Norns knew there had been many a moment he had wished for someone to be such for him - as if it might heal the damage wrought upon him - as if he might taste what it was like to lift his burdens for a single breath, and gain a fraction of right for past wrongs. But there was only two ways for that to come to pass. To take, riding upon misplaced blame, giving ones wretchedness shape, and snatching fair payment without said sacrifice’s sanction. Or to give.

If it was his choice. If it was by his own free will---

     ----side by the side the stripes of blue and white, and the gnarled, raised ridges denoting the King’s denial of allowing others to dictate the manner of his demise, Baldr’s blows landed. Heat lashing into icy flesh, and nerve endings twinging with each split and heal before settling, solid stones of unease within his gut - despite composure, and permission, and comparison of much worse in his years, that small, primal fear of what could harm him most. Beware the fire little Jötunn. Yet dissolved just as swiftly, stifled by internal mantra, that which had rooted, somewhere from bygone mentors’ teachings of discipline and resolve;      I am marble. I am water. I hold. I flow.

Violence rammed into him, and so the King was marble - holding, shifting, directing, around and away. And then the smaller crumbled ---and Loki was all at once water. A melting tide, soft, shifting, flowing - a gentle folding of limbs to crouch before the rage that had ruptured to unveil the raw truth.

“Because you were destined for greatness. Are destined for it.” to Baldr’s hearing was the quiet rumble made for. Aware of the smaller’s disposition for physical language above the rest, fingers hesitating only a split second before touch is given to the wrenching hands, lingering upon them, despite the near-intolerable heat,

“Your very existence threatens the control of others. You are different, Baldr. People fear such things, and so they must label you. It makes you manageable to them.”