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vina-writes · 3 years

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Ten Favorite Drarry Fic Recs

I’ve reached a bit of a follower milestone, and I thought, why not celebrate? I’m happy! This is an incredible feeling that I honestly can’t fully articulate in writing. Knowing someone enjoyed my work and presence enough that they’d want to be notified if I posted again just makes me squeal and want to hug everyone from joy!! Thank you to anyone who has ever left me kudos, a comment, a tag, a note, an emoji, a tag emoji!! I am endlessly grateful to you all for this support and kindness.

Now, since it’s party time, I’ve compiled a personal list of my ten favorite Drarry fics to share the love. This is by no means a stamp of quality (as there are thousands of brilliant fics out there) and neither is it a guarantee that these are everyone’s cup of tea. But they are certainly my cup of tea— my whole buffet honestly.

I chose fics that made me feel deeply. Fics that made me cry, laugh, throw my phone, squeal and wiggle and dance at the end. These (mostly) weren’t fics which answered deep philosophical questions. They were fics which instead showed me love and adventure, joys and betrayals, misunderstandings and occasionally unbelievable (but appreciated) levels of smut (you know who you are). These are stories I read to be entertained, entranced, delighted, and happy. These are stories that made me feel in love.

In honor of that (and of my Canva addiction) I’ve made little banners for each. I hope they do some justice to these works. I’ve tried to capture the feeling of each fic in just one image. Without further ado, read on to find out exactly what my guilty pleasure (as if Drarry isn’t enough) is:

The Songbirds of Avebury Manor by Tessa Crowley [E, 18k]

Summary: Harry Potter presents as alpha at fifteen, and it is supposed to change his life for the better. Instead, it leads him to a beautiful noble omega he cannot have, a political plot he cannot escape, and a threat on his life.

This story. Oh my stars, this story. What can I even say to properly express how I feel about it? This is the Romeo and Juliet, the Pride and Prejudice, the Hades and Persephone of Drarry. Reading this made me feel like an unwedded Victorian lass waiting for her Prince Charming. It’s a wonderful Historical AU that throws around power dynamics and questions of who is worthy of love, freedom, and respect despite them. This is a brilliant portrait of deep romantic love. Harry’s dedication to Draco is all-encompassing, beautiful, intense, intimate— earth shattering, really. The way they fall in love despite class and situation made me want to cry and write poetry. This is a true fairytale romance.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette, maniacani [E, 49k]

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

The moment I started this story I knew it was going to be an instant favorite. It’s swashbuckling, debonair yet disheveled, dangerous, fun, adventurous— everything you could desire from a romance on the high seas! Though they come from very different backgrounds, this Draco and Harry are a power couple to the core. Their romance is once again beautiful, intense, and dedicated, but this time it’s mixed with a healthy dose of self-exploration and mutual acceptance. But apart from romance this fic holds delicious secrecy and identity issues, an astounding knowledge of sailing ships, plenty of piratey shenanigans, some heart-wrenching found family dynamics, a cursing parrot, and a glorious angst with a happy ending finale!

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats [E, 104k]

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

What can I say about Soup-pocalypse? It will lure you in with tales of Veelas and romance, and then it will kidnap you and throw you in cooking class and therapy. You’ll come out wondering what just happened and how two days have passed. There will, of course, be Veelas and romance aplenty, but it will be a caring romance, a familial romance, a supportive and kind and nurturing romance. This story feels like family, good cooking, sunny days, the deep heartbreak of change, and through all of it, the truth of a real and solid partnership. This is the humorous yet angst-ridden tale of two idiots learning to love as adults, and then in turn learning to face the world together.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakickass [M, 20k]

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Right then. On to the angstiest story I’ve ever read and truly enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, adored! Worshipped! Come back to time and again whenever I needed a good cry! Here is the beauty of it: this fic is deeply painful and heartbreaking, yet it steers clear of emotions like disgust and discomfort. Never once was it disturbing— only sorrowful, in the purest and most heart-wrenching way. Yet despite the pain strung throughout the majority of it, this fic left me feeling relieved and rejuvenated, the way one feels after crying their heart out over something simple. It’s an emotional release that does not leave you broken.

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [E, 84k]

Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

Truly one of my favorite takes on canon divergence. Truly. This is an exploration of isolation and the joys and comforts that come with it. It is the power couple Drarry to rule them all— a Draco and Harry so strongly connected, in love, and attuned to one another that the world could fall at their feet. This story leaves you on the edge of your seat until the very bitter end— one of those where the second things are briefly peaceful the world goes up in a new set of flames. Those of you who daydream about a partnership that needs no others, two souls who are each other’s family, friend, and future, and would gladly abandon everything to spend eternity alone together: this is for you.

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummel [E, 30k]

Summary: After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right.

Yes. YES. YES!!! The Beauty and the Beast take you didn’t know you needed! Still canon-compliant to an extent, this is realistic and raw and incredible. Draco makes the choice to help Harry here, and the vulnerability of their interactions while Harry struggles with the curse is everything you could hope it to be. There’s a distinct fairytale atmosphere in this fic— both of them confined together, finding support and comfort in one another while struggling through the effects of the curse, and falling in love along the way. I could write sonnets about the ending using my tears for ink, but they shan’t be revealed here.

Picking Up Pieces by Tessa Crowley [E, 43k]

Summary of Part One: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other's identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple.

Picking Up Pieces deserves no introduction, but if you haven’t read it yet, please find a blanket, and cup of tea, and a quiet place to read, cry, and recover. I sobbed my little heart out through the entire second half— the tears were really never ending. How does it end up on a reclist by a fluff lover like me? The answer is similar to Antidote— though this story broke me apart, it was never twisted nor ugly, never disturbing. It was an incredibly touching tale of redemption, forgiveness, human nature, and recompense. The writing does put you through the emotional wringer, but it leaves you relieved and whole. I would lay down my life for this Draco. He truly needs to be protected and loved at all costs. Even though I’m usually careful when recommending heavy stories, I would encourage everyone to read this— it made me feel new, it made me feel like I’d spent an hour crying in the shower, but most of all, it really did make me happy.

Two Trees by LakeWitch [E, 36k]

Summary (shortened): In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. [...] Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

This is the comfort fic of all comfort fics. It feels like camping, like sitting by a lake in the sun, like marshmallows over a fire and sparks against a starry sky, and cool, feather-soft hotel sheets. Draco is dealing with several different anxieties here, but the brilliant setting and easy plot turn them into a cathartic read. This is a fic about young love and the ability to build bonds on trips. It made me remember my first crushes and the feeling of getting breakfast in a hotel lobby. There’s cuddling, there’s love, there’s some highly emo Draco (both warranted and unwarranted), and there’s a truckload of nature. Go read it!

Your Place Or Mine? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark [E, 26k]

Summary: "This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?"

At first I was like, “Damn, Harry,” but then I was all, “Damn Harry!” but then I went, “DAMN Harry!” (interspersed with a lot of whistling and cursing). I could have slapped him, and you will want to. This is another Draco that deserves endless love and hot chocolate, with a Harry that deserves a good smack. I think about this fic weekly, and not just because it’s endlessly hot— although it is scorching hot, like how do you even write something that hot type of hot. Draco’s pining and Harry’s stupidity makes for the angstiest yet most satisfying friends-with-benefits-but-really-there’s-more combination, and the climax (pun intended) and resulting spill of emotions is everything anyone could hope for. Ten out of ten.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken [T, 19k]

Summary (shortened): Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship...

This thing of beauty is exactly as hilarious as it sounds. However, it is so much more than the endless laughs (although there are many). It is sweet, tender, touching, and filled with glorious pining and misunderstandings. Inside you’ll find extravagant (the word was literally invented for Cibee’s Draco) outfits, confusing customs, a blanket that brought me to tears, one badass house-elf, one very confused beloved, absolutely no fornication (wink), and one hopelessly smitten pureblood. Be warned, this fic is actually three “What the fuck, Draco?”s in a trenchcoat. I read it when I want to laugh, facepalm, and submerge myself in the adorable stupidity that is Draco Malfoy in love. It is well worth your time and is sure to bring a smile to your face.

With this final fic we conclude my list on a happy note! It’s long, it’s tedious, and I had a spanking good time writing it. I hope these bring some joy or happy tears to your day.

Love, Vina

#vina recs #oh my look a new tag!#long post #drarry #drarry fic rec

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gravityunforgiven · 3 years

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Right Where You Left Me (Kakashi x OC)

Pairings: Kakashi x OC, Jiraiya x Tsunade, Dan x Tsunade

Synopsis:

She was the daughter of a Legendary Sannin, He, a son of a disgraced shinobi. Fate brought them together but life tore them apart. Will they be able to take control of their destinies and find their way back to each other?

...Or will they be another victim of the cruel shinobi world they are both a part of?

Chapter Three

She was barely three when their paths first met. She had his attention for about ten minutes then that was it for the first meeting. It was because of her age and her last name. The Senju clan, nowadays, was only seen or heard in their history textbooks. Now there was one standing right infront of the class.

This is new. He remembered thinking.

They never really interacted because he was a chūnin a week later. She didn’t really notice his departure either. All she knew was the. class celebrated for something and the boy with the scarf was gone.

She stayed in the academy until she was six. She was hardly at school in her first year and the teachers didn’t question it. She was still young after all. She can take her time. She spent most of her days that year in the Medical Division of Konohagakure. She can learn ninjutsu from a lot of people but there was only one person to learn medical ninjutsu from.

Their paths crossed again when she was nine. Her mother just left. Jiraiya was knee-deep in his travels and she was stayed with her master, Inoichi Yamanka, before she moved to her own apartment. The Senju compound was too big for to live in alone.

Minato was teaching her a jutsu when the team he was leading arrived. This time he was able to introduce himself.

“Kakashi Hatake.” He said, almost too impatiently.

“Nice too meet you.” She replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She stayed with them for the rest of the afternoon then tagged along for a couple of B-Rank missions. They never talked more than what was needed. Rin became good friends with her. Obito was amused to see the girls braiding each other’s hair.

Minato, along with Inoichi Yamanaka, took her under their wing. They said she was special.

More than me? He so carelessly thought back then.

He wouldn’t realize until years later that she was so unique she became dispensable.

Because of her training with Minato, Akira became close to his-then girlfriend, Kushina. Kakashi saw how close they became they were almost like sisters.

Akira became a permanent figure in Kakashi’s life. They mostly ignored each other’s presence but he got so used to seeing her in the takoyaki shop he half-expected her to be there everytime he walked by. She wasn’t always with friends, most of the time she ate there on her own, in the same spot every single time.

That was until Team Minato was pulled into a mission. When they came back, she was nowhere to be found. At first no one was really bothered. After all, they were all shinobis and when duty calls, they go. But then weeks turned into months and still not even Akira’s shadow was seen. Rumors began spreading in the ranks about her whereabouts. Some says she was in a long term mission in the Land of Rains, others say she was captured and was being held and even Kurenai, who was like her older sister, together with the rest of their batch had no idea where she was or if she was in a mission. He heard Asuma talking about how he asked the Third Hokage about Akira, however, much to their dismay, his lips remained shut and he simply dismissed his son from his office.

Finally, Rin gathered her courage and asked their own sense if he knew anything about this. Minato fought with himself for a while. It was classified information but seeing the look from his students even Kakashi was enough him to give in. He made them swore to never breathe a word of what he was about to say.

“She joined the ANBU Black Ops.” Rin gasped. Obito’s jaw hung wide open. Kakashi who always seemed to be unfazed struggled to keep his cold composture together. They didn’t see that coming. Not in a million years. Kakashi remembered how her name was so fitting for her. She was always so...bright. She was like the sun on a beautiful day. Wherever you go, or whoever you are she will always graze you with her presence like the rays of a sunlight. She lacked the darkness necessary to be an ANBU. She was the complete opposite of those people.

“The Third Hokage allowed it?” Obito asked. Lord Third treated Akira like his very own grand-daughter. After all, she was the daughter of one of his legendary students. It was only fitting that he looed after all while her mother was unavailable.

“ No. He didn’t.” Minato replied.

“ She joined The Foundation.”

—————

He didn’t see her again until Rin’s death. Once, he had asked Minato why Akira was always sent on dangerous missions. Missions they usually were not allowed to do until they were further into their career. This took Minato by surprise. He didn’t know Kakashi had been observing the girl since he usually ignored her presence and vice-versa. The time the two would acknowledge each other is through their relentless bickering due to the fact that no one wants to admit they’re wrong and often times than not, it ends in a full-blown fight between the two prodigies.

Minato eyed the silver-haired ninja. He was usually not bothered by anything that doesn’t have to do with abiding with the rules but the look on his face was clear enough for Minato to realize that this was not the case.

“Being unique isn’t always good.” Minato started.

“You know she uses Wood Release right?”

Kakashi silently nodded. That was common knowledge in the village. Even in the neigboring lands, her reputation preceded her.

“Villages seek power to protect their lands. Right now, Akira is one of the greatest threats to their lands that’s why we train her as hard as we possibly can. A lot of people wants to hurt her and use her for their own good. They want to use one of our own against us.” He remembered Minato saying.

During Rin’s funeral, he caught only a glimpse of her from where he stood by the trees. She was at the back despite being a close friend of Rin’s. She stood silently and kept her eyes firmly on the floor. Kakashi wouldn’t have recognized her if it weren’t for her golden hair that stood out among the sea of dark colored heads. She’s so different. Everything’s changed so much. After a few hi’s and hello’s, she was once again gone. But despite the dark hole Kakashi fell into, for some reason, the girl with the blonde hair never completely left the his mind.

—————

The first time she actually talked to him first, he just joined the ANBU under the Fourth Hokage’s Command.

“I guess we’re teammates now.’ She said removing a wolf-shaped mask. He looked up from the bench he was sitting on in the locker rooms.

A grin was plastered on her face.He immediately recognized her voice though it’s been years since he last heard it. She was twelve and he was just about to turn fourteen that day. But they were so much older and wiser than the kids their age. They had witnessed so many deaths to be called children.

It was the burden of being one of a kind.

They now worked often with each other since they are now both under the Hokage’s command. Gone were the days of bickering and throwing insults at each other. He now knew the burden of being an ANBU. He wondered how much worse she had to do while under Lord Danzo’s command. How many had she killed? Can she even count it at this point?

Minato, after being named Hokage, recruited Akira back from The Foundation to his own a little too quickly than the elders were comfortable with. But the Yondaime Hokage was adamant to have Akira back on his care knowing how much the irreversible damage The Foundation can cause to a person.

Even now, the changes in Akira’s disposition was easily seen by those who knew her before her time in the Root. She still smiled and laughed like she did before but her eyes no longer had the same shine they had before. She tried to hide it. But Kakashi wasn’t so easily fooled. She was just glad he never said a single word about it.

Kakashi and Akira were placed on different teams. She was already leading a group of three people twice her size when he joined but every now and then, when the circumstances call for it, they will be paired together. An unspoken rule was formed between the two. As the only living members of Team Minato (though she tagged along for only a couple of missions) they were to protect each other as best they can.

Though she didn’t need much protection, Kakashi kept an eye on her for old times sake. Just like a few years earlier, they didn’t really talked much during their time in the ANBU. He was too busy wallowing in his guilt and she was kind enough to leave him in in his own knowing it was what he wanted but not exactly what he needed. All she could do was keep an eye on him and make sure he knows that she was there if he needed her.

Their relationship didn’t change from what it was during the time of Team Minato but this time, they treated each other with the utmost respect. They were comrades now. Though the rules of the ANBU stated that the mission comes first, they both knew they had each other’s back. After all, among their classmates, the two of them are the only ones who understood the loneliness of being an ANBU.

Of being truly and utterly alone.

—————

He knew she was brave. She had proven it time and time again. He had seen it from their time together when they were younger, they had heard stories from the older shinobis who had worked with her, and he saw it again every time they were paired in a mission. There was no question that she was brave but that night during the Kyūubi Attack, he was almost certain she too was looking for an easy way to just die. He had a good reason. Unlike her, he was dispensable. He had no one. All he had was the nightmares that haunt him at night. The faces of his fallen teammates and the cold body of his father playing again and again like a broken record every time he closes his eyes. That was all he had. If he dies, people would mourn, yes, but they would move on and go about their life. They would eventually forget and he would always remain the ninja who killed his friend to others.

He had no real purpose. He doesn’t have anyone left to protect. Or to live for.

She was different. She was loved by everyone. She was alone most of the time but she still had Jiraiya who comes and visit every now and then. She had a purpose. She had a reason to live.

Or so he thought.

They were placed inside a barrier the night of the Nine-Tails Attack. The elders said it wasn’t their fight. They have to sit this one out so they could live another day.

Kakashi looked around the group that they have formed. Most of his former classmates were on the front of the pack together with a few other shinobis their age but as he scanned the crowd, he quickly realized Akira was not among them.

He knew she took her first day off in months today. She had deliberately worked during her time off in order to gain more experience and training. Kakashi always thought how Akira seemed to always seem to act as if she was running out of time and how she wouldn’t take rest until she was forced to by the injuries she acquired during her missions.

This time was no different. She came back from a mission in the Land of Lighting only a couple of days ago and if it wasn’t for the direct order from the Hokage to take a break, she would have been out for another one by this time. He was unusually aware that she was hardly in the village these days.

It was a few minutes later when Akira’s figure emerged from the woods. She stopped dead at her tracks halfway into the clearing. A look of confusion was visible on her face as she scanned the scene ahead of her. What the hell?

Kakashi watched as Akira stopped dead in her tracks and stiffened as she took in the scene in front of her. For a moment, their eyes met and almost instantly, the look of confusion was gone in her face replaced with outrage.

She shoved the two jonins on her either side then she was on the run back to the village. Her path was quickly blocked by more leaf shinobis assigned to keep the younger ninjas safe.

“Lady Akira, please.” Shinku Yuhi, Kurenai’s father, pleaded.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” She spatted back. Her eyes were full of rage. This isn’t where she’s supposed to be. She should be where the fighting is, not kept away from it. This isn’t what she’s been training for.

“We’re just followi-“ He wasn’t able to finish his sentence because Akira was on him. pinning him down with earth style.

Kakashi and the rest of the group inside the barrier couldn’t do anything but watch as Akira battled five jōnins at once. Their mouths hung wide open as they saw firsthand Akira’s proficiency in using the wood style. The group, excluding Kakashi, had never seen someone use wood style in person. Despite the common knowledge that Akira was a wood style user, she only uses it as a last resort knowing that it would only gain more unwanted attention in terms of her capabilities. She usually relies on other nature transformations as much as she can.

This was the first time for most of the people in the clearing see someone use wood style and handle it with such finesse and ease as well. They thought that her skills was on full display that night but Kakashi knew how much she was trying to hold back. He knew she would have defeated them if she wasn’t being as cautious as she is in making sure to not harm any of her comrades and if she wasn’t still recovering from her recent injuries.

Eventually, Akira was outnumbered by the seven jōnins who fought with her and they tackled her to the ground. Her cheek pressed on the dirt as they tied her hands behind her back and made sure she could not weave any more signs.

She could see her classmates staring at her in shock. They haven’t really seen her in action as she didn’t officially join any team after graduation. They had no idea what she can do. Or what I’ve done.

Once she was in the barrier Kurenai quickly untied the younger girl’s hand. Akira was still half a foot shorter than herself but she seemed so much older already.

Akira relentlessly pounded on the barrier. Her right hand was still bandaged but her hits did not falter.

“Listen, I know you have your orders but it doesn’t include me! I can help capture the nine tails with wood style! Don’t you understand that?!” She was practically screaming at her superiors standing only a fees feet away. She was trained to fight. To save the village. To not let anyone get hurt, to help the Hokage the best she can. That was what they drilled into her brain growing up. There was a reason she had all these abilities and she should use to help others. Being stuck inside a barrier wasn’t part of any plan.

“Lord Third specifically mentioned you, Akira.” Shinku replied. Akira was confused. She was the protector not the one who needed protecting. She would gladly lay her life for the billage but now, they’re asking her to sit back and watch the village burn just so she could remain safe?

“Akira, stop.” Kurenai was barely able to grab her arm mid-punch to keep it from colliding with the barrier once again.

“Damn it!” She gave the barrier once last hit and turned around. She didn’t saw it but the rest did as the barrier flickered and for a moment, a crack appeared from where punched the barrier.

Her abilities were one thing, her raw power were another.

“Just calm down, will you?” Kurenai was on Akira’s heels as she made her way to the back.

“Lord Third must have a reason of he wanted you here, Akira.” Gai chirped in attempt to help Kurenai calm the still seething Akira.

“Orders are orders, Akira. We can’t do anything about that.” Kakashi says. He wanted to fight as bad as she does. He knew Minato was out there fighting the kyūubi and having them in the field would be a great help for the village. Kakashi secretly hoped Akira could somehow break them out of this bubble so they could fulfill their duties instead of being forced to watch as the nine-tails burn their village just because they were not old enough.

“You know I don’t care about orders, Kakashi.”She snapped right back at him. She followed orders because it was the right thing to do, but unlike him, she had no problem on breaking it when push comes to shove.

Akira had already decided what she needed to do when Kurenai noticed. “No,no. Don’t even think about it.” Kurenai had grabbed Akira’s arm and gave her a stern look. She can’t do this.

“You can die.” Akira didn’t need any reminder. She was aware of the risks she as taking but she couldn’t care less about that right now. There were just some things that had to be done no matter what the consequences were.

“Only one way to know.” She said, already performing the hand signs for the jutsu. She’ll deal with the consequences for her action later, for now, she’ll do what she knows is right.

“Ghost Transformation Jutsu!” Akira’s body fell on the ground as her soul ascended. She was engulfed in a white glow as the others watched in awe. She didn’t waste any more time and disappeared in the sky like a shooting star to the direction of their village. She didn’t know if she can comeback to her body as she hadn’t mastered the jutsu yet and Inoichi had strongly discouraged in practicing without his guidance. She still haven’t got the right skill and the possibility of her being stuck in this form until her death was much greater than she would like to admit.

Kurenai watched as the girl’s body fell onto the ground as her soul left her body and into the night. She barely caught Akira’s head before her body collided on the soil. She was well-aware of the fact that Inoichi had barred Akira in practicing this jutsu without his guidance proving that the jutsu was more dangerous than what Akira could handle at the moment. It was no simple technique that could be undone in a matter of days. They were talking about life and death on this one.

The people outside the barrier were also alarmed of the what Akira had done. They were former comrades with her father, Dan, and they were well aware of the implications that came in using this jutsu. Even with Akira’s huge chakra reserves, she could still potentially ran out of it if she wasn’t careful of her actions.

They soon realized Akira was not being careful at all as blood soaked through her shirt and the land beneath her darkened from the massive amount of blood leaving her body.

No one knew what happened but a loud explosion was heard from where they were and the next thing they knew, Akira was just bleeding on the ground.

Kakashi was quick to react and firmly pressed his hands on Akira’s wounds on her midsection. There was just so much blood oozing out of her wound despite the pressure Kakashi was putting on. Kurenai was nearly in tears as she held the smaller girl’s head in her lap.

“It’s the jutsu.” Kurenai said when Kakashi’s clearly worried eye met hers. “Whatever happens to her soul also happens to her body.”

She was unconscious for two weeks. People wondered if another name was to be added in the already long list of the people who lost their lives that night.

What happened with her, the Third Hokage was the only one alive who knows.

Next Up: LOTS of Kakashi fluff.

Ask or Reblog for a tag!

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

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Hogmanay Hauntings: A Christmas Carol Crossover

Chapter 1 -- Past: Creideamh

Read on AO3

“No.”

It was a grunt, a growl, a snarl, perhaps all three.

“For Christ’s sake, brother, ye didna even let me finish,” Jenny huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

“I didna need ye to,” he snapped. “I’m no’ going.”

“And why no’? If no one is in danger, can ye even think of another reason to no’ go?”

“Ye canna guarantee safety, and ye ken it.”

“Jamie, it’s been four years since Culloden. We havena had any visitors in a year! The villagers said the harassment has lightened considerably,” she reasoned. “The tenants miss their Laird, Jamie.”

“I’m not their Laird.”

Jenny flinched a bit at the coldness. “Aye, I ken. But they do still see ye as such. Ye’re their hero whether ye like it or not.” She paused, moving her hands from her hips and crossing her arms over her chest. “And the tenants arena the only people that feel that way.”

“What d’ye mean?” He was still staring at the dirt between his feet, still refusing to look at her.

“The lad,” she said, her voice softening. “Your lad.”

Your adopted boy.

She had called him that.

“He’s...no,” Jamie said hoarsely. “He isna mine.”

I have no children.

“Christ, Jamie,” her voice regained the bite it had lost. “Try telling that to him.”

“What d’ye mean by such?”

She sighed with exasperation. “Ye’re no’ the only one that lost her.”

He stood up abruptly, propelled by boiling rage exploding in his blood.

“I’ll no’ be intimidated by yer pathetic excuse fer a towering bear.” Jenny rolled her eyes. “Claire was — ”

“Don’t say her name.”

“ — the only mother the lad ever knew. And ye ken it well,” she went on as if uninterrupted. “There was no need fer him to be orphaned entirely. Yet here we are.”

Jamie growled with rage, shoving over one of his piles of books, sending them flying all about. He should not have been surprised that Jenny would turn asking about Hogmanay into throwing her into his face.

“Fine,” Jenny said calmly, unaffected by his tantrum. “Suit yourself.” She hiked up her skirts and made to leave, but paused at the entrance of the cave, turning around again. “Christ, Jamie...I ken ye have sorrow. And I only wanted to bring ye a bit of happiness. I ken how much the holiday meant to ye when we were bairns. And it’s the grandest party we can afford since the rising.”

Jamie was momentarily seized by guilt, remembering the sad holiday they’d had last year. After Caitlin. Jenny had been grief stricken nearly to the point of no return, and Ian had suggested they not have a party at all. But she’d picked herself back up and thrown together whatever they could afford at the last minute. For the children, perhaps; they’d already lost enough. But for herself, as well. It had always been important to her, too, Hogmanay. And Jamie knew it.

“I just...I miss my brother. This…” She gestured to his hunched, ragged form, the cramped quarters of his cave, “isna my brother.”

“This,” Jamie bit back bitterly, “exists to keep the rest of ye safe.”

“One night, Jamie. That’s all. But if ye canna bring yerself to quit yer wallowing...suit yourself.” She turned again, and then she was gone.

He stood still for a moment, allowing his sister’s enormous presence to truly leave the cave, his chest tight, his fists clenched.

No, he would not go. Not only was it a threat to their safety, no matter how Jenny insisted that she’d insured there would be protection, but his presence was a blight. He would not bring misery to those he loved by dampening their joy on a night meant for rebirth and celebration.

He had nothing to celebrate, nothing to look forward to in the new year, or any year thereafter.

His future was gone. All that existed was his present, these dark walls, the quiet forest on days where he hunted. And pain. Such...pain.

His future...her future.

For the hundredth time in just that day, he thought of her. He thought of them. Four years...his bairn would be four years old. Running around with Jenny’s bairns, a child now, not an infant anymore. Claire would struggle to pick up the child, especially if it grew like a Fraser.

It. He’d never know what to call it.

The months he’d spent in the Bastille, not knowing the fate of his wife or child, trapped in his own mind as much as in his cell...he was living there again. Except this time, nobody would come to his rescue, nobody would enlighten him about his child, tell him it was a beautiful girl, what she looked like…

Ah, my sweet Faith.

And for the hundredth time in just that day, he thought of her, too.

Claire and the bairn were not dead, not really. But their loss had felt just as acute as that of his wee lost daughter.

I have no children.

A small scuttling sound jolted him from his reverie, and he sniffled, swiping at the tears on his cheeks.

“Uncle Jamie?”

Christ! How had the bairn…?

“Milord?”

Ah.

The smaller voice belonged to the head of strawberry blonde that bobbed into the cave, blue eyes wide.

“Are ye really no’ coming to Hogmanay, Uncle?” she said, her lips full and drawn into a sad frown.

Jamie was always sinfully grateful for the isolation of his cave. It physically pained him to look at the children. Especially wee Maggie. The red hues of her hair, always accentuated in firelight, were far too much like the copper hair he saw in his dreams, copper hair that only Claire had really seen. He couldn’t bear to look at her, at any of the lasses, and think that Faith would have played their wee games with them, and perhaps so would the new bairn, were she a lass. Were he a lad, he’d be traipsing around wee Jamie and Michael.

If he had his own bairn with him, if he had its mother with him...perhaps it would be different.

But that hair, those eyes, that sweet frown...it was too much.

“No. I’m not.”

His voice was far too short and harsh. She was only seven years old.

“But Kitty and I made ye a gift to give ye at midnight.” She twisted her apron in her hands, swaying a bit.

“Yer Ma will give it to me. Dinna come back here, it isna safe.” His eyes flicked up to Fergus, who’d been hanging back to allow this conversation to unfold. “Ye’re a fool to bring her here.”

“She will not remember,” Fergus said. “She was crying, Milord. I thought — ”

“Ye thought wrong. Quit my sight.”

The wee girl sniffled and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. He was wracked with guilt at the sound, at the sight. For a split second, he almost fell to his knees and pulled her into him, whispered into her hair, rocked her.

No, he’d fall apart if he did that, and he’d never be able to put himself back together. He’d never be able to let her go.

“Now, Fergus,” Jamie snarled. He couldn’t bear to listen to her anymore. He couldn’t bear to be confronted with the knowledge that he was incapable of bringing a child comfort. Because all of his children had been stolen from him.

“You are a heartless beast,” Fergus said with great disdain. “I do not want you at Hogmanay anyway.” He stepped forward and took Maggie’s hand. “Come, petit.”

And they were gone.

Aye, lad. I am a heartless beast.

His heart had been gone for four years. Never to return.

——

Jamie was in a deep, heavy sleep. Ian had come by with whisky, not to try and persuade him to come — quite the opposite in fact. He’d essentially encouraged Jamie to get piss drunk alone in the cave, and that was exactly what he’d done. His head had hit the pillow like a stone, and he’d passed out.

A gushing wind roared inside the cave, and it roused him immediately, like a bucket of icy water poured on his head. His eyes shot open just in time to see his singular candle knocked over by the gust, blowing the light out. He lay there in silence for a moment, waiting for the deafening wind to stop. When it did, he counted a few breaths, swallowing thickly.

He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a deeply ingrained sense of foreboding and dread.

He got up then to re-light the candle; though it was night, sleeping without the light of the moon had always been difficult, even after four years. A candle was a poor substitute, but it had to do.

As he fumbled around blindly, he was aware of something glowing behind him, as if someone had suddenly lit a fire. Yet the color was different, as if the fire were ignited by the moon itself. Brow furrowing, he turned around, and he staggered back at what he saw.

It was a child. A wee lass, barely even reaching the height of his waist. Barely bigger than wee Janet. But she was glowing, like her tiny slip of a nightgown was sewn from strands of moonlight. If Jamie didn’t know any better, he’d say that above her head was a flickering flame. Or maybe it was just her hair...fiery red. Like his.

And her eyes, how they glowed.

Like amber in front of a flame.

Like whisky.

“Hallo.”

She spoke, and her voice sounded like music underwater, like ringing bells in an echoing cave. Far away, yet right in his ear. He jumped at the sound, staggering back again, stumbling until he landed on his rear in his makeshift bed.

“W...what d’ye want…?” Jamie stammered, his eyes frozen and unblinking on the ethereal being. “Are ye...a spirit?”

“Aye,” she said calmly, a placid, gentle smile on her cherubic face. “I was sent to ye.”

“Sent...to me?”

“Aye.” She giggled, and it made his head spin. She was so...sweet. So lovely. Her hair was floating above and around her, never resting on her shoulders or back, like it was floating in water behind her. For the first time, he noticed the wreath of holly she wore atop her little head.

“By who?” Jamie’s eyes narrowed. He was a devout man; he’d not be tempted by one of Satan’s visions, sweet bairn or no. Yet, there was a lingering paganism in him, the part of him that believed his dreams of Claire were not makings of his own fevered imagination.

“By the Ghost of Hogmanay past,” she said proudly, as if reciting a poem taught to her in her lessons. She smiled, giggling again, and Jamie was overwhelmed by how small her glowing white teeth were.

“The...the what…?”

“She’s a little girl spirit like me,” the wee thing explained. “She gave me this crown of holly berries so I could do her job fer tonight.”

Jamie blinked dumbly, not at all understanding.

“It’s a very rare thing fer the spirits to appear,” she said, again like reciting lessons. “And even rarer that the honor be given to someone else. Like me.”

Jamie swallowed against a painfully dry throat, wracking his brain for what to say. “Why...why’ve they given ye the honor this time?”

She giggled again, and he swore he could feel it fluttering his heart. “Because the mortal they needed to reach was my Da.”

Something pricked him on the skull between his eyes, and he blinked rapidly.

“Da…?” His voice was nearly inaudible.

She nodded, her fiery tendrils bobbing midair, that flame that may or may not be atop her head flickering. She smiled sweetly, beatifically. “It’s me, Da.”

He thought he might faint. Copper hair, her mother’s eyes —

“It’s Faith.”

He lost vision completely for several seconds, but still glowed behind his eyelids, burned into his mind.

Faith.

His eyes opened again, burning and watery. The tears slipped out, unabashed, and a sob tore through him.

“Faith…?” he stammered, making to stand, but falling to his knees on the stone. “My...my Faith…?”

She was still smiling, twirling back and forth like any mortal wee lass, oblivious as to the effect she had on her father.

“Oh, mo chridhe…” he wept, inching forward toward her on the floor. “Christ, ye’re beautiful...I never even dared dream of ye...and here ye are...so bonny…”

She was now in arm’s reach, and he made a desperate grab for her, meaning to gather her in his strong arms and cradle her to his chest, rock her there for hours, never let her go.

But his hands met nothing but thin air, white-hot air, and he fell forward, his palms slapping the stones.

“I’m sorry, Da.”

She said it like she’d been caught eating too many bannocks or tormenting the chickens.

He heaved with shuddering breath, unable to look up at her again just yet after having his heart broken like that. He watched as his tears dotted the stone beneath her glowing feet.

“Mortals canna touch spirits.”

He bit back another sob, swallowing hard. Spirit or no, his daughter deserved better than to see her father completely unravel like this.

“It’s…” He sniffled. “It’s alright, lass.” He picked his head up, daring to look at her again. “It’s enough to...to see ye. To hear yer sweet wee voice.” He sniffled again, breaking out into a smile against his will. “I’ve...I’ve always loved ye, though I never saw ye. D’ye ken that?”

“Aye.” She nodded sweetly. “I ken. And I always loved ye, too.”

He was wracked by another sob, overwhelmed.

“Yer...yer mother…” he stammered. “Have ye…”

“No,” she said lightly. “Ma doesna need me.”

His brow furrowed. It was incomprehensible. How could Claire not need this? How could some powers-that-be decide that a mother need not see her child?

“Doesna need ye…?”

“I ken she misses me. But that’s no’ the same as needing me. That’s what the Ghost of Hogmanay Past said.”

“And why is it that I...need ye? And what’s all this about a Ghost of Hogmanay…?”

“It’s my job to show ye things ye need to see,” she said, that sweet, youthful pride pouring out of her again. “Hogmanay’s past.”

“I...I dinna understand…”

“It’s alright, Da. I’ll just show ye.”

She stooped down, reaching for his hand, and Jamie’s heart leapt into his throat. Perhaps he couldn’t touch her, but she could touch him. The thought almost had him weeping again.

But then there was fiery heat in his left hand, and his guts were in his mouth as the world dissolved around him. He cried out in fright, but there was no sound to be heard above the roaring wind.

As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped, and Faith was no longer holding his hand. He didn’t even see her at first, and the panic that that created was enough to make him completely unaware of his surroundings.

“Faith, mo chridhe? Where are ye? Come back, please…”

He whirled around and was met with a rowdy pair of children running headlong for him, and it was far too late to move out of their way. Much to Jamie’s horror, they ran right through him, as his hands had gone right through Faith.

Christ! Am I dead?

A small giggle.

He whirled around, and there she was, floating, flaming hair, glowing white skin and all.

“Ye’re no’ dead,” she said, shaking her head at his foolishness. “Ye’re...a visitor. But ye’re no’ really here. Everything here has already happened. Ye ken?”

His brow furrowed, and he finally took in his surroundings. He was...home?

But he wasn’t just inside the main house. No...something was different.

The parlor was decked out as Jenny always had it for Hogmanay when they could afford it, but it was far more extravagant than as far back as Jamie could remember. The greenery and the holly and the wreaths and the candles were simply beautiful. It was like stepping into a magical woodland castle, the air drugged with joy and high spirits.

And then he saw them.

“Da? Mam…?” His voice was no more than a choked whisper, and he found his feet bringing him closer to them before he even willed it.

They were whirling around the dance floor, and Jamie sidestepped other couples in vain. It didn’t matter anyway; they danced and twirled right through him. His mother was radiant. He’d forgotten, forgotten how beautiful she’d been, how full of life. And his father...he looked at his mother like he was holding the entire world in his arms. Jamie had forgotten what it was like to look at two people so in love, knowing that he had come from that love, however abstractly he’d known it at that age.

They were both laughing, red in the face from exertion. Jamie could not even keep up with them in following them around the room. He felt inexplicable giddiness bubbling in his chest. He used to watch them whirl around the floor all night, lost in the music of the fiddler accompanied by the laughter of love. Mam used to blow kisses at him and wink, sometimes Da would throw him up on his shoulders, or Jenny, or even both at once, tossing them both over each shoulder like sacks of grain.

“Willie! Lemme! Lemme!”

A piercing, chillingly familiar voice stood out among the throng. Jamie whirled around and completely froze.

That’s me.

Little Jamie was standing there, the tips of his ears red, his face twisted in a ridiculous scowl. He was watching two other children dancing clumsily, a little girl twirling around the finger of her partner.

“Willie…” Jamie breathed reverently, coming closer to the cloister of three children, unblinking, hardly daring to breathe.

“I want tae dance!” Little Jamie protested, stamping his foot. “Lemme!”

“Haud yer whisht!” Little Jenny scolded. “If ye dinna quit yer scowling, I’ll tell Mother to hide yer presents!”

“Jenny,” Willie interrupted. “He’s just a wee lad. Let him dance wi’ us.”

“He’s clumsy!” she protested, little nose wrinkling beneath mirthful, cunning blue eyes.

“He’ll never learn if he doesna get to try.”

Jamie crouched down nearby, watching and listening in awe. There Willie was, protesting about his brother being a wee lad, when he himself was only ten years old. He was wee as anything to Jamie.

And he’d be dead in a year.

“This must’ve been our last Hogmanay all together,” Jamie whispered before he realized he was saying it aloud. He didn’t need to look to know that Faith was standing beside him; he could feel the heat of her fiery presence, could see her glowing from the corner of his eye.

The little Jamie he was looking at was no older than five, Jenny was about seven. Willie would be eleven and dead soon, and his mother would follow in three more years. This was the last time everything had been truly magical during Hogmanay.

“This was...the last time,” Jamie said, unable to elaborate so that his tiny daughter would understand.

Willie finally convinced Jenny to allow Little Jamie to hold one of each of their hands, and they twirled and skipped in a circle. Little Jamie’s scowl seemed to transfer to his sister’s face, apparently unhappy that her nagging wee brother had gotten his way, but before long, all three children were laughing and squealing, tripping over each other in glee.

“The last time what, Da?” Jamie could not tell if his daughter was genuinely asking, or if she was wiser than she seemed and was trying to get him to reveal the contents of his weary soul.

“The last time we were...together. Happy.” Tears stung his eyes. “Willie was my very best friend, ye ken? I was so young when I lost him that I...I dinna even remember what it was like. But look at me....I’m looking at him like he hung the stars.”

And he was, Little Jamie. He adored his big brother. So did Jenny.

The fiddler ceased that particular tune, and everyone paused to applaud wildly, whooping and cheering. Da made his way over to his trio of wee Frasers. Jenny began hounding him to allow her to dance with him instead of Ma, Jamie began demanding to be sat on his shoulders. To compensate, he reached down with a great playful growl, scooping them up and tossing them over his shoulders as the fiddler started in again. Little Jamie and Jenny squealed their wee heads off as Da fully performed a jig with two bairns on his back, and Ma laughed her head off, taking Willie’s hands and swinging their arms between them.

Before long, the rest of the room took notice of Brian’s absurdity and was cheering him on, and then both of his wee children were sitting atop his shoulders, clinging to each other over his head as he danced. The jig finished and the room erupted again. Eyes leaking with tears of laughter, Ellen took Little Jamie into her arms, kissing his temple and rustling his wild hair as Jenny settled on Brian’s hip. His parents kissed, sweet and chaste and beautiful, and Jamie’s heart felt full and empty all at once.

“This truly was the last joyful holiday we had,” Jamie said with a sense of finality. He could live in this memory forever, forget the suffering that was to come, the fate of his poor brother and mother, the fate of himself all those years later. He wanted to fold himself into that loving embrace of that family of five, to meld himself with his five year old soul and live this night forever and ever.

“It wasna the last one, Da,” Faith said gently.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt a tiny, delicate hand grasping his again, and before he could speak the panicked protest on his lips into existence, his family was melting away in a whir of color, and the deafening wind was back. Jamie’s frightened cry made no sound, lost to the howling wind.

Colors began leaking back in around them, dimly lit and getting brighter by the second. It was like watching a painting being created right before his eyes, all around him. Then the parlor was back, the Hogmanay decorations all in their place, but just the slightest bit different. Jamie frantically whipped his head around, completely disoriented. His eyes took in a crowd gathered around a dancing couple, and he weaved in and out of them, apparently forgetting that he could just walk right through them if he wished. His heart soared, ready to find his mother and father again, but his breath was taken away at what he saw instead.

Jenny was grown now, hair long and flowing and tied back with a bow, her face bright and beaming, hands clasped with…

Ian.

He was laughing just as heartily, twirling and skipping and dancing right in step with Jenny.

Both of his legs.

Jenny was a young woman, clearly in love with the man that would be her husband, so this must have been…

“The last holiday before...” Jamie breathed reverently. “Before…everything.”

Before Fort William, before Da, before Ian’s leg was taken.

Before Claire.

“Mhmm.” Faith nodded in confirmation, swaying ethereally to the music. “Auntie is very bonny, aye?”

It took Jamie a moment to register her words, entranced as he was by the sight of his sister’s joy. So much had been lost, her brother, her mother. She’d become the woman of the house before she could even see over a washtub. Far too young. Yet, here she was, glowing, radiant.

She’s already stronger than I’ll ever be.

He smiled then, nodding. “Aye, lass. She’s bonny.”

He’d been so blind! How on earth hadn’t he seen the way his sister looked at his best friend? Where was he now that he hadn’t seen this, hadn’t heard the crowd whispering about what a bonny match they’d make someday?

A whooping roar sounded behind him, and Jamie whirled around, following the sound into the dining room, where he laughed out loud at what he saw.

Murtagh and his father were tossing back mugs of whisky and so was…

Himself.

It was not the same as looking at himself as a bairn; it was much stranger. It was so clearly him, yet it wasn’t at all. He was so young, this Jamie. So foolish; present Jamie could tell. He had that stupid glint in his eye, like he was seconds away from doing something foolish at any given time. The crowd roared again as the three men — or, rather, two men and the lad — slammed their mugs down. A drinking game of sorts.

“Aye, I remember,” Jamie breathed, laughing. “Da is about to drink me under the table!”

He’d passed out that night, so hell-bent on drinking more than his father and godfather that he hadn’t taken into account exactly how much he’d been consuming.

“I was sick as a bloody dog the next day,” Jamie went on, still laughing to Faith. “Da wouldna let it go fer weeks. Jenny didna even seem to notice, didna nag me as she would ha’ to see me in such a state. Her mind was elsewhere, I reckon.”

Jamie threw a look over his shoulder into the parlor, finding Jenny still bounding about the room with Ian, joined now by other couples. Jamie looked back again, watched as his father slapped younger Jamie’s back ruthlessly, causing him to sway, and causing the crowd to laugh raucously.

Then there was Da, beaming bright as young-and-in-love Jenny was.

Jamie had seen with his own two eyes how much losing his mother had crumbled his father. They were the loves of each other’s lives, there was no getting around it. Brian lost a piece of his heart when Ellen died, after having already buried a piece of it with Willie. Jamie knew the pain of losing a child, and he knew the pain of losing his wife.

And yet there he was, his father.

None could deny that there was always a quiet sadness about him after Willie, after Ma. But then he tossed his head back, howling with laughter as his son stumbled again, and Jamie’s heart twisted.

He carried on.

He looked back at Jenny again upon hearing her laugh, a shrill, shrieking sound that he’d always hated as a lad, but that now brought him such aching joy.

Certainly growing up too quickly had hardened her; it was unavoidable. And the horrors to come, Randall harming her, the rising and its aftermath, losing her own child...they’d all make her harder still. Jamie could see it in their present.

But she carried on.

Jamie did a visual sweep of the dining room, practically overflowing with food and decoration, every painstaking detail in place to give joy. He was certain that Jenny had done her best to recreate such a thing in her present day, for her children, for Fergus.

For him.

The way his Da had carried on and continued to make each holiday special after losing pieces of his heart had instilled itself into his daughter as well.

And it had missed Jamie himself.

Jamie was overwhelmed with crushing shame, tears stinging his eyes. His eyes bore into his father, so full of life, into himself so full of life. So young.

“Da...I…” he rasped, swallowing thickly. “I’ve failed ye. I have. I’ve failed Jenny, and Ma. I ken ye’d be disappointed in the man I’ve let myself become.”

How far had he fallen that such strength had eluded him? What was so bloody pathetic about him that he could not carry on as his father had set the example for his entire life?

“D’ye see, Da?” A little voice jolted him out of his reverie of self pity, and he finally tore his eyes away from the pillar of a man that he still loved fiercely, still missed with a painful ache.

Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Aye, lass...I see. I see that I’m a...a bloody coward. A puir excuse fer a son.”

“Oh, Da,” Faith’s wee voice was tinged with sympathy, as if she were coddling one of her dollies.

Jamie sniffled, then turned to look down at his beautiful wee daughter. “The spirits sent ye to humble me, then?” he said, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice for her sake. “To remind me how far I’ve fallen from this time of great joy?”

“Aye...I think so.”

Had he not felt sick to his stomach, Jamie might have laughed at her sweet innocence.

“But,” she went on, “all is not lost.”

She grasped his hand again, and Jamie threw a desperate glance back at his father, tossing his head back in laughter again; the last time he’d ever see him until the Eternal Kingdom.

The lights, the music, the laughter, and the joy all faded away like melting wax until the cave molded back into existence around them. His candle was still turned over, the only light in the room Faith’s glowing essence. Jamie’s head was spinning, so much so that he nearly forgot what Faith had just said:

All is not lost.

“What...what did ye mean, mo chridhe…? What isna lost?”

She giggled. “All!”

He laughed despite himself, his heart straining in his chest. He knelt down in front of his daughter, his hands physically aching with the need to reach out and touch her, and his heart splitting upon remembering that he couldn’t.

“Cheeky wee thing,” he said softly, his eyes glistening.

“It’ll be alright, Da,” Faith said sweetly. “The other spirits will help ye understand.”

“Others?”

“Aye, I only showed ye the past. The spirits said ye must see the present and future as well.”

“But what...what good’ll it do…?”

She smiled, reaching out to ghost a white hot finger over his nose. “It’ll do all the good in the world, Da. I promise.”

Jamie leaned into her touch, but was met with nothing but air.

“Can ye promise me ye’ll keep yer heart open?” Faith asked, and the room suddenly seemed to get darker.

Her light is fading.

“Faith? Faith, mo chridhe, what’s happening?”

“Promise, Da. Promise that what I showed ye has opened yer heart fer the next spirits.”

She’s leaving.

“Please, lass, dinna leave me…”

“Promise,” she begged, fading dimmer and dimmer.

“Aye,” Jamie choked, a sob wracking through his body. “Aye, my sweet babe...I promise.”

Faith sighed with relief, smiling brightly. “Thank ye, Da.”

“Wait…!”

“I love you, Da.”

And she was gone.

Jamie fell forward onto his hands and knees, sobbing gutturally, every inch of his body alight with the horrible pain of losing her again.

“I...I love you too, Faith.”

The room was entirely black, black as his heart felt now that she was gone. He didn’t bother to light the candle, didn’t even move from his hands and knees as he wept for his lost brother, parents, his poor daughter, and the mother that would never be given such a gift as he had to see her and hear her voice.

Then there was light again; he could see it behind his burning eyelids. He looked behind him. The candle was still turned over, unlit. He turned back around, sitting on his haunches and beholding the next glowing spirit to grace his presence.

He almost fainted.

“...Sassenach?”

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jessikahathaway · 5 years

Text

Witch’s Brew

I’M BAAACCCKKKK. Happy thanksgiving to my amazing followers who put up with me not posting new fics for forever and a half. Please take this kinda fluffy, banter filled smut as my apology for being gone. I do have other fics in the work so stick with me? I love you guys! If you don’t celebrate thanksgiving then I hope you had a wonderful day regardless :) Love ya, now, please enjoy ;)

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Fantasy!AU, Knight!Jungkook, Witch!Reader, Smut, Fluff (kinda)

Warnings: Fighting, Mentions of Blood (Kookies a strong boi), unprotected sex (don’t do as I write please), creampie, loss of virginity, Oral (f receiving), I may have forgotten some other things so if you find them let me know!

Words: 8,104

Jeon Jungkook took his job on the Royal Guard extremely serious. The day he swore his oath was the day he found his purpose. He protected the Royals with his dying breath, because they were benevolent rulers that deserved respect…

Orphaned as a child, his future certainly would’ve been a bleak one. Thrown into the streets and his life would have no meaning. However, the King took him in. Keeping him safe and raising him like one of his own.

As Jungkook came of age, the King decided it was time for him to make a choice. Continue to live in the palace, perhaps be an advisor of his son. Or, take on the role of the Captain of the Royal Guard.

Jungkook jumped at the chance to give back to the man who had given him everything. Fed him, clothed him and loved him like any father would. Even though Jungkook was a beggar’s son. It didn’t matter because children don’t get to choose their parents. They choose who they want to be regardless of their beginnings.

And that is what Jungkook has been doing for three years, proudly. He has brought the Royal Guard out of their disorganized mess and made them carry pride in their hearts. Jungkook has lead them valiantly into battles, losing good men... But, to lose good men means to gain more knowledge. However, the heartbreak doesn’t ease at these statements.

And today, was the day he had to travel alone.

Jungkook wandered through the castle halls, heading towards the throne room. The King had requested an audience with him, and he was quick to obey. Jungkook smiled at the paintings of the family on the wall. The family he’d care for until the day he took his last breath.

Walking into the beautiful throne room, the guardsmen let him pass, giving a bow in respect. Jungkook did a small head tilt in acknowledgment before going to his knee before his king.

“Rise, my child,” he said, nothing but love in his voice. Jungkook did so, standing to attention.

“What do I owe the pleasure your Majesty?” he asked, giving the king a soft smile. His gesture was returned, as the king stood to approach him.

“My child, I have a task for you,” he said, walking next to Jungkook and placing his arm on his shoulder. “Walk with me,” he asked. Jungkook nodded and the two were off.

“What is it you’d ask of me?” Jungkook questioned as the King wandered through the garden with practiced grace.

“You have brought me great pride, Jungkook. Something that I feel for you, my children. You may not be of royal birth, but you hold as much of my heart as my true born son, your future King. Your hard work, has not gone unnoticed by me,” he said, placing his hand on Jungkook’s head in admiration.

“Thank you, your Majest-”

“Please, it’s just us my child. Father will do fine,” he gently urged. Jungkook nodded before going to speak again.

“Father.”

Just the word brought a bright smile to Jungkook’s face. “Father, I have done only what you’ve asked of me. I live to please you, and bring the kingdom peace,” Jungkook announced honestly. The King smiled with the utmost compassion in his eyes.

“That you have my son, and more. Saving the Kingdom from every threat. Taking on a guard that hadn’t seen organization since before my grandfather. What I tasked you with wasn’t easy, and yet here you are today. Captain of the Royal Guard of the Kingdom. From the small, boney child I raised you from... Out has come a man, worthy of any request he could make of me. Yet, you ask for nothing, simply to stay with us here... Something I will forever oblige, and Seokjin will as well. You know how he adores you,” the King smiled, thinking of the boys as children. How Seokjin wipes Jungkook’s tears and became the brother he always needed.

“I love him the same,” Jungkook agreed, feeling his heart swell to think of his brother.

“So, I hate to ask anymore of you... I feel that doing so is taking your love and compassion for granted. Something I never wish to do,” the King breathed.

“You could never ask too much of me, Father. I want to protect you, my brother and make mother in Heaven proud,” Jungkook declared.

“You’ve already made her proud... I’m certain she’d kick me for asking any more of you. Yet, here I stand, emploring,” he whispered.

“What is it you’d ask of me?” Jungkook repeated.

“There is a witch in our province,” the King began. Jungkook’s blood boiled thinking of such a wicked creature encroaching on his homeland.

“Where is she?” Jungkook pressed.

“Now now, my son, patience is a virtue you still need to learn,” the King tutted. Jungkook was silent and listened once more. “She has been practicing on the dead in the village. Desecrating their resting places with her black magic,” the King stated.

Jungkook wanted to retch at the thought of his loved one’s remains being tampered with. The witch would certainly pay for what she’d done.

“What would you have me do, my King,” Jungkook asked, turning formal. The King placed his hand on his shoulder. Jungkook kneeled automatically.

“I ask, that you, Captain Jeon Jungkook... Get rid of the heinous criminal disturbing those who have passed. However, you don’t have to resort to violence. Either remove her from this province by means of banishment, and if she refuses, then a more forceful approach may be necessary,” the King declared.

“As you command it, your Majesty, so it shall be,” Jungkook said, his head lowering to the ground in a bow. “I’ll ready the men-”

“Ah- I’m afraid I have to ask you to go alone,” the King requested, looking pained at the thought of sending his child off to battle.

“Why?”

“Because,” the King sighed, rubbing his face. Jungkook saw the worry creasing across his face, a look he hated to see on the man who raised him. “This witch is very cunning. She can turn the best of us against each other. She would be able to detect a large ground force with ease... However, if it was just you. She probably won’t pay much attention. Single people walking through the forest cause much less suspicion than a garrison of twenty or thirty men. I know in my heart that you can remove her,” the King assured.

“Then, I’ll leave a nightfall. And, send word when I have completed the task,” Jungkook stated. “I won’t fail you, Father,” he smiled, heading off towards his quarters so he could pack.

“You never have,” The King whispered to his retreating form, praise falling flat before it could reach him...

* * *

The forest was quiet at night, Jungkook realized. The night breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves but all was still moments later. All signs of life had retreated to their homes, falling into the comforts of sleep as the darkened hours held too many dangers.

Jungkook didn’t want to admit that he was homesick... The sounds of his guardsmen in the barracks, laughing and making merry with each other. Seokjin wandering the halls, looking for a midnight snack. The King, up in his study, working hard on providing protection and care for his people.

It was lonely, traveling with just his blade and bag strapped across his back. He had his horse, but she didn’t make for much company. However, he tried.

“What do you think this witch looks like, Yoonji? I’ve only seen witches that had traded in their beauty or souls for the uses in the black arts,” he rambled.

He got a snort in response.

“Perhaps it isn’t a she at all! Maybe they’re like our court wizard, Namjoon! Although, I don’t think he’s ever dug anyone up and practiced on them... Not to my knowledge,” Jungkook stated, moderately curious.

A whiney, with a shake of her head. All together, she seemed unimpressed by her riders nonsensical talk.

Suddenly, a growl ripped through the forest, causing Yoonji to buck and rear in fright. Jungkook gripped onto the reins in an attempts to remain on his steed. However, Yoonji was truly frightened by the sound to her very bones. Horses are animals of prey, it is only natural for her to react so harshly.

Jungkook’s senses went on high alert. An animal of that tenor must be large, nothing like a wolf or around that size. No, this was much larger and much more dangerous.

“Easy! Easy, Yoonji,” Jungkook soothed, running his hand down her neck. Once she was calm, Jungkook began to assess his situation.

Quickly dismounting, he brought out his sword. His eyes level and breathing calm, he surveyed the location. The trees rustling could’ve drifted his scent towards lurking predators. All of his nerves were on edge, everything about to snap in an instant.

The forest had become deathly quiet, as if the whole area was waiting for the oncoming battle. Jungkook had faith in his armor, but if he was overpowered, there wasn’t much the armor could do for him. Keeping his back to Yoonji, putting a barrier between her and whatever danger may befall made his mind at ease.

SNAP!

A twig to the west cracked unforgivingly loud. Yoonji reared once more before taking off into the darkness.

“No! Yoonji, come back girl!” Jungkook yelled, giving away his position. However, she was his only manner of transportation for the long trek ahead of him. And she just ran off into the wilderness... Jungkook knew he couldn’t go after her, and all the supplies of his she carried on her back...

The sound of leaves rustling alerted his senses. He placed his hand on his sword in a defensive manner. Turning on his heel Jungkook quickly brought forth his weapon, hands steadier than an archer on the hilt.

“Whomever is out there, I must warn you I am armed,” he said in a stern tone.

Jungkook was no stranger to danger, and he wasn’t frightened of what may lay ahead of him. His only fear was that of disappointing his father and the family he had left behind in the Kingdom. Just the thought of his family knowing he didn’t succeed was enough for him to continue on. Making them proud and keeping them safe was all Jungkook wanted.

A deep snarl echoed throughout the empty wood. Jungkook’s skin rose in alert, his natural instinct to flee for his life was buried deep within him, screaming out from within the void of his mind to run. He decided to take a swing into the deep brush, simply to alert his enemy of his proximity.

A shrill shriek came from the bushes he struck. A rabbit came forward, nearly jumping into Jungkook’s arms with how high it had jumped. Guilt washed over him as he watched the terrified creature run into the other area of the forest. Jungkook sighed and set his sword down, leaning against the tree and sliding down the harsh bark.

Exhaustion had creeped into his bones without his realization. The day had finally caught up with him and he knew he needed rest. But, he knew he couldn’t rest long. No doubt there would be creatures ready to tear him limb from limb if he shut his eyes for merely a moment.

“A few moment, that’s all I need,” he mumbled before his eyes shut and he fell into darkness...

—

A loud clang disrupted Jungkook’s slumber.

At that moment he knew he’d slept longer than he’d anticipated. He cursed his lack of control as he stood up.

From his arms weakened state he knew he’d been sleeping for at least an hour. Perhaps longer with the way his legs trembled from exhaustion that crept back in them.

Jungkook grit his teeth as he gripped his sword in his hand, looking at the tree line for signs of oncoming conflict.

“Show yourself! Cowards I heard you!”

There was silence, before a sharp pain erupted in Jungkook’s side. He cried out before moving quickly and removing the offending blade from his side. Two men sneered from behind him.

“Mmm, a Palace guard. No doubt you’ve got a lot of goodies on you huh?”

“Back, as you have graciously noticed I am a Royal Guard. But I am no mere kinsman. I am Jeon Jungkook, Head of His Majesty’s personal guards. You will die here today, fools. And you will die by my sword,” he growled.

Jungkook’s blood trickled down his side, but he ignored it. Now was not the time to be worrying about trivial wounds. His pride was on the line, and he’d rather die than lose that.

The first man lunges for him, rather clumsy as his sword point drops and Jungkook is quick to deflect him. “Child’s play,” he chuckled. The man to his left snarled in frustration before taking out two daggers. One already red with his blood.

“Die! Bastard!” He cried, running for Jungkook with his blades gleaming, thirsty for more of his crimson veins.

Jungkook raised his blade and blocked one dagger, grabbing the man's wrist and taking the other from his grasp. Huffing, Jungkook threw his shoulder into his ribs, a sickening crack heard in his ear.

The older man howled, falling back on his haunches before completely falling to the ground. Jungkook moves fast, straddling his enemy and beginning to assault his face with punches.

Sharp sounds of impact reached his ears as he pummeled the man without remorse. “You insulted the crown, and therefore have insulted me. This will be the most grave and last mistake of your life!”

Jungkook reaches for his sword, raising it high before plunging the tempered steel into his attackers chest. He fought back for a few moments before going still underneath his weight.

But then, a burning pain came from Jungkook’s calf as he recognized the dagger planted in there hazardously. His eyes narrowed at the sight of a blade embedded in his skin.

“You turned your back on the enemy, fool,” he sneered. Jungkook swallowed thick before gripping the handle of the short weapon and pulling it from his leg. The Royal Guard hissed in pain, the worm The brute gurgled while looking at Jungkook with shock.

“And you sir, have given me your only weapon. Fool.”

He ripped the dagger from his throat and threw it on the ground watching as he crumbled and twitched; dying. Jungkook breathed harshly, landing on his knees with exhaustion.

His calf was bleeding terribly, and he had yet to assess his side. The blood loss would get dangerous if he didn’t hurry. Struggling to gather his bearings, Jungkook attempted to stand.

Attempted.

The weight of his strong body hit his wounded leg hard as he tried to stand. A cry of pain came from his throat. He’d been through pain before, suffered injuries on the fields of battle. But people were always there to help him, and now? Now he was alone, no one there to aid him.

Fear gripped his chest as he realized the severity of the situation. He could die out here, and no one would know what happened to him. The King and the Prince he worked so hard to protect would now be left alone. Jungkook wouldn’t allow that.

But what was he to do?

He saw his satchel sitting by the tree, blood dripping off of it delicately. Stumbling, Jungkook made his screaming form take him there. Pulling the leather open he grabbed his herbal kit and put some on his leg wound, before wrapping it tightly.

Now that that one had been taken care of, for now, he could focus on his side.

—

Jungkook spent the better part of an hour working on his wounded flesh. But the blood loss was beginning to catch up with him.

Breathing was labored and difficult, coughing rattling his lungs. This wasn’t going as he’d planned. Jungkook gripped his sword and fell back against a tree, head hitting the harsh bark with a thud.

The pain was secondary to the sheer exhaustion that was weighing his body down. Jungkook looked up at the tree line, wondering if his family was alright.

His father, whom he’d disappoint with his death. His brother, who wouldn’t forgive him for going alone. And his mother, who he’d meet in heaven and beg for her forgiveness for wasting his life in such a way.

His eyes felt heavy, and soon closed.

But not before a crunching sound was detected to his right. He tried desperately to open his tired orbs, but there was nothing left in him to do so.

“Hey, can you hear me?” A soft woman’s voice asked.

Jungkook felt himself fall onto the grass and a curse came from the woman.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” she said.

Suddenly Jungkook was surrounded by warmth as he felt his body being lifted from the ground and into the air above. But it wasn’t the sensation of being jostled by other people. No, it was like being hugged by a soft blanket after it’s been sitting in the sun for hours.

And it finally pulled him to sleep...

—

The scent of lavender, frankincense and pine filled Jungkook’s nose. His eyes felt heavy, unable to be opened with his groggy mind.

There was soft humming coming from his right, a woman’s. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt as though sand had replaced his flesh. This triggered him to cough, jostling his side and his eyes flew open.

You ran over, kneeling besides the bed as you ushered him to drink something. Jungkook didn’t hesitate as he downed whatever you had given him.

“Hey there,” you smiled.

Jungkook looked at you and the very breath left his lungs. You were a vision... beautiful big eyes and a bright smile. Lovely hair that framed your face and plush lips that seemed to call for him. He swallowed hard, throat still a little scratchy.

“Hi,” He croaked. You gently sat on the bed, careful not to touch him.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, raising a brow.

Jungkook thought for a moment. “Like I’ve been stampeded by a thousand horses. But I’m alive,” he stated.

“That you are, thanks to me,” you informed, a proud grin on your face. Jungkook could look at you all day, he decided quickly.

“May I ask the name of my savior?” He asked shyly.

“I am Y/N, the witch of this forest,” you declared.

Jungkook’s heart dropped into his stomach. H-He has to kill you? Surely you weren’t the witch who’d been raising bodies from their graves and performing heinous spells of them! But you’d saved him... if you truly wanted dead bodies, wouldn’t you let him die?

“You appear to be having inner turmoil Jeon Jungkook, Head of the Royal Guard in this Kingdom,” you offered.

“There is no turmoil in my heart, only the desire to return to my King with victory on my lips,” he declared.

“Or,” you said, leaning in closer, “you could have me on your lips. If you’d like.”

Jungkook flushed at your bold statement. “W-what kind of woman says such a thing?!”

“A woman who sponge bathed you and healed your wounds. I’ve seen your body, and I want it. I’ve lived for over three hundred years and I’ve never seen something so perfectly sculpted. I want to taste you, feel you under my palms, and feel you deep inside me,” you licked your lips and Jungkook felt his stomach clench.

“Y-You harlot! My body will belong to my wife and her alone!”

“I’ll marry you then,” you grinned.

Jungkook could hardly believe his ears. What kind of woman would offer herself up in such a crude manner?

“I’d never marry a witch like yourself,” he growled.

“A witch that did manage to save your life, just so you’re aware,” you declared.

“Are you the one who is disturbing the dead in the neighboring villages? Are you the one desecrating the graves of people’s loved ones?” He asked dark.

“Perhaps, but that kind of answer comes with a price, what will you give me in exchange for the truth?”

“Depends on what you want,” Jungkook mentioned warily.

“Mmm, a kiss. Kiss me, and I will tell you honestly. You have my word,” you wagered. Jungkook sat with bated breath.

What if you were lying? Then he’d given you what you wanted, and him none the wiser. But if it was just a kiss, what was the harm? He wasn’t giving his first kiss to her, thankfully that had already been given to a girl when he was younger...

“I-I guess,” he agreed soft, waiting for you to approach. You did just that, leaning down. Jungkook closed his eyes and soon after he felt soft lips press against his.

Your hands cradled his face and he gripped the sheets beneath this palms harshly. He’d only ever kissed one girl before, and they were children. They had no idea what they were doing. But you, you were very eager to take the lead of this embrace. Just as you were getting a little lost in the sensation, Jungkook pulled away. You frowned, licking your lips to catch the lingering taste of him before it was gone.

“T-there’s your kiss, now tell me the truth,” he demanded. You smiled at the obvious blush on his cheeks. However, you’d given the man your word. Time to pay up.

“I did raise a few bodies, but at the request of the town's mayor. He asked me to raise a select list of corpses to investigate their deaths. They were murdered and the bodies were buried before they could be examined properly. He sensed that the murderer had done so to cover his tracks. So, I raised them in the night and he had the towns physician examine them once more. After that, they were able to find evidence of the killer and she was caught. Now, she rots behind bars,” you said dangerously low.

Jungkook couldn’t believe his ears. Were you being honest? Or was that just an elaborate story?

“You look as if you don’t believe me,” you pouted.

“Because how could I believe such a ridiculous story? The mayor himself asking a witch for help when all he had to do was dig up the bodies? Why employ your help?”

“To air on the side of caution. He didn’t want to killer being tipped off and skipping town because they knew he was investigating the corpses,” you answered again.

“Well... I, I guess that makes sense,” Jungkook murmured.

“I promise that I’m not a bad person, Jungkook. If I was, would I have saved your life in the woods? I knew who you were by the armor, if I wanted you dead, you would be right now,” you said, honestly.

Jungkook bit his lip and looked you over once more. “I suppose that could be true, however you could have done so to put me in a complicated situation. Do I kill you or do I let you go because you saved my life? Perhaps you saved my life to preserve your own!”

“A good idea, one that I didn’t think of. I’ll try that next time I want to kill someone,” you sighed, resting your head on your hand.

Another stalemate.

You merely wanted a good romp in the sheets with the virgin knight before you. No doubt he’d be incredible. His strong calves made your mouth water while you were bathing him. Although his injuries did concern you more than your curiosity of his strength.

“Rest here, I’ll keep my hands to myself,” you promised, showing your palms as you stood up slowly.

“How can I trust you witch?” He said, venom in his voice.

“Because, I don’t want to hurt you. It’s simple. The proof is in the potion, I didn’t have to save you. But I did. Now you claim I have ulterior motives. The only motive I have is for me to be in that bed with you, but don’t worry little virgin, I won’t do anything you don’t want,” you smirked.

“H-How did you...”

“The way you kissed me, so shy and timid. That, and you’re hard right now.”

Jungkook turned as red as a tomato at your observation. He looked down and true to your words, he was sporting a major erection in his trousers. Swallowing hard he tried to look anywhere but you. How embarrassing! H-He was supposed to be better than this, how could the head of the Royal Guard fall to primal instincts such as these?

“It’s okay, it’s a normal reaction,” you said, crossing your legs, some of your flesh being revealed.

“Not for me!”

“Not into women?”

“No that’s not it!”

“Then I’m lost here, what’s so wrong with listening to your body and letting instinct take over? That’s what magic teaches us. To let go of this earthly plane and to accept the power within us to be who we truly are meant to be. That’s the most basic teachings of magic,” you explained.

Jungkook felt his mouth turn dry.

Is that what magic was? Just the release of your inner and truest self?

No! Magic was evil! A forbidden art that no one should be privy to.

“Hush witch!” Jungkook glared. But he noticed his glare didn’t meet your eyes. Because yours were trained lower. “Quit staring!”

You chuckled and licked your lips. “I’d be okay with a quick romp in the sheets to get it out of your system,” you said. “Think of it as payment for me saving your life, yeah?”

“What? Now you’re charging me from something that was out of the goodness of your heart moments ago!”

“Easy, I’m teasing you. Gosh, have you ever heard of that?”

“I need to leave,” he said, trying to sit up.

The breath left Jungkook as he felt pain suffuse up his body. You jumped up from where you were and urged him back down into the bed.

“You can’t go anywhere in this condition,” you tutted, fluffing his pillow as he lay back down.

“My king expects a report soon. And if I don’t return with one then I will be a failure. I refuse to be a failure in the eyes of my king, I’d rather die,” he huffed.

“You will with that attitude. Sooner than we’d both like,” you scolded.

“I won’t stay here, I refuse.”

“You can’t get out of that bed,” you reminded, turning towards your wall of potions.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Looking for a rapid healing potion. It will accelerate the healing process so you can leave sooner,” you mumbled, already pouting at the thought of this handsome and rather adorable man leaving your home.

“A rapid healing potion?”

“Yes, you want to leave and I’m not going to hold you against your will. If you’re that dead set, then who am I to keep you?”

Jungkook felt something in the pit of his stomach. You were upset with him. But why did he care at all? It wasn’t his fault that you were a sex crazed woman. However, Jungkook doubted that’s the only reason you were keeping him here. Perhaps living the life of a witch was a lonely one. No, it was definitely lonely...

Shaking his head, Jungkook tried to get these thoughts to leave him.

“Here!” You smiled, presenting a small vial with dust on it.

“That’s the healing potion? Or is it poison?” Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you.

“Do I really need to keep reminding you that I don’t want you to die? I can drink this after stabbing myself with your saber if you really want me to. Not my preferred method, but I’ll do it to prove a point to you,” you said, leaning forward to grab his weapon.

“No! Don’t!”

You raised a brow at him before smirking and putting the vial out in front of him. “Then by all means, drink the potion and be on your way,” you said, smiling softly at the offer.

Jungkook hesitated before taking the bottle from your hands.

Carefully he undid the cork and took a tentative sniff. You smiled softly while he inspected it. Slowly, Jungkook brought the cranberry bottle to his lips. You watched as his throat bobbed while he drank your concoction. After the potion was gone, Jungkook set the bottle down on the bedside table and wiped his mouth.

“So, how do you feel?” you asked, raising a brow.

Jungkook shrugged before looking down at his leg and noticed the skin beginning to stitch itself back together. He gasped as he watched his wound weave and mould itself back into his normal, strong leg. You smirked as he stared on in wonderment at your work. You couldn’t help but feel a little smug, he had doubted you, but he wouldn’t do that any longer.

“I feel a little hot, but other than that I’m fine,” he mumbled, begrudgingly accepting that you had in fact helped him.

“Hot? You shouldn’t feel hot, let me see,” you said, moving to touch his forehead. But Jungkook was fast, and caught your wrist before you were able to make contact with his skin.

His gloved hand crushed down on your delicate bones and made you wince.

“What do you mean I shouldn’t feel hot, witch?” he practically growled.

“It’s an older potion! Sometimes when they sit for a while they get a little weird,” you defended, trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

“Have you poisoned me? You fooled me?” he gaped, feeling utterly ridiculous for trusting a witch in the first place.

“I have done nothing but try to help you! God what do I have to do to prove to you, I want you alive, I want you safe!”

“Sweet lies will get you nowhere!”

“Please, I’m telling you the truth! I swear!” You cried out.

Fear was beginning to replace your sarcastic tone. Jungkook was strong, freakishly so. You didn’t want to get hurt while just trying to aid this younger man.

“You are going to pay for-ah-what in the...” Jungkook moaned out, holding his stomach with one hand.

“Are you alright?” You asked, running forward to catch him as his body hurled towards the floor.

“My body, I-I don’t know what’s going on,” he whimpered, head leaning on your shoulder in distress.

“Let me look at you, hold on,” you said, pulling him away from your neck to examine his features.

His doe-like eyes were blown wide, drinking in the sight of you before him. His cheeks flushed bright pink, heat laying within them comfortably. Lips, slightly swollen and wet, begging for a kiss. His breathing was lightly labored, coming in in little puffs against your cheeks. You knew immediately that something was wrong. The whole time the man had been nothing but a pain in your butt, but he was just trying to help his people by getting rid of the necromancer. But here you were, in the way of him yet again.

“That’s a little off,” you said, rubbing your neck awkwardly.

“What?” Jungkook huffed, holding onto himself gently.

“The potion has worked, you’re healed, but there seems to be some side effects with the potions itself. See, if potions sit for too long then they can get some qualities to them that they didn’t originally have. This one seems to have taken on as an aphrodisiac. You’re flushed, heart rate accelerated and your pupils are dilated. I’d say your rearing to go. But you’re healed, as I said, so you’re free to go whenever you please,” you said, gesturing to the door of your small hut.

Jungkook made a sound of protest in the back of his throat.

“You do this to me and expect me to leave?”

“Hasn’t that been what you wanted this whole time? Now I’m getting confused,” you complained, placing your hand on your head in mock frustration.

“C-Could you help me? Would you do that for me?” He asked, a soft tone overtaking his frustrated one from before.

“You know the only way to help you is to have sex with you, correct?”

“I-I... Um...”

He was too cute, it hurt your teeth with how sweet he was. But, originally Jungkook hadn’t wanted this. So, you didn’t want to take something so precious without proper consent.

“Listen, I know you want me now. I can tell by the way you’re looking at me. But, I don’t want to take something that wasn’t going to be given to me originally. That’s not right, and I won’t do it. If you only want me now because your situation, then I’m sorry to tell you I won’t help you that way,” you declared.

God being the good guy sucked.

You just wanted to devour him. Lips on skin, flesh on flesh. It would be so good you wouldn’t need anyone else for at least three hundred more years.

“Then it has to be you who takes it, if that is your reasoning, then I know your heart is pure. E-Even if you practice magic and the dark arts, I-I know you’re not a bad person. You saved me. Thank you. I don’t think I properly thanked you for saving my life. I was too hung up on the idea that you would betray me, but now I need your help again. Can I have it? Your help?”

“I’m trying to be good here! Stop trying to tempt me you little sprite!” You warned, point an accusing finger in his direction.

“Tempt you? What would give you the idea that I’m... tempting you?” He said, biting his lip slowly.

“Don’t do that! Come on, that's not fair when you look at me like that!” You whimpered.

“I’m not look at you in anyway, I’m just... looking at you,” he stated, eyes trailing down your body in a suggestive manner.

“Stop that!”

“Do you really want me to stop?”

You bit your lip with uncertainty. Of course you wanted him, you wanted this man badly. But could you do this with a clear conscious? Although, potions you made never changed the true intentions of other people. You’d never make a potion like that. So, was Jungkook truly in his right mind right now?

Only one way to find out...

“No, I really don’t want you to stop,” you moaned, collapsing to the floor in front of him.

“Yeah? You want me?” He asked.

“So bad,” you whimpered.

“Then come and get me,” he whispered.

Quickly, you scrambled forward as he leaned down to connect your lips together. Jungkook was a timid kisser, probably because he had no idea what he was doing. But Gods if it didn’t get your blood pumping. Wrapping your arms around his neck, Jungkook pulled you into his lap. You ran your fingers up against his scalp, causing him to buck into you softly.

“Fuck,” you whispered against his lips, which were now wet from your tongue.

“You’re really beautiful,” he said softly, bringing a finger up to delicately touch your chin.

“Thank you, I’m stunning with my clothes off,” you teased, pulling your robes down your shoulder. Jungkook’s eyes went wide at the sight, making you smirk.

“I-I might need proof of that,” he stuttered out.

“Truly? Then let me give it to you,” you said, pulling your arms out from the sleeves and letting the garment fall from your chest. Exposing yourself for the first time in years felt so liberating. You hadn’t put on your corset today. So your chest was bare before Jungkook, who was immediately entranced.

Jungkook watched as your nipples turned hard, biting his lip and coming forward to press a sweet kiss on your collar bone. You sighed at the sensation, letting Jungkook feel your body. His hands warmed their way up your waist, gripping right below your breasts as he took one nipple in his mouth with hesitance. You smiled and gave a little moan as he suckled gently.

“Ah, Jungkook that feels so good,” you hissed out. Jungkook took your praise and continued on, licking and sucking at your breasts with reckless abandon. He seemed like a man possessed with your chest at the center of his focus.

You rubbed your thighs together, feeling wetness gathering between your folds. Fuck you wanted him so bad. Jungkook was still thoroughly content with groping your chest, thumbs rubbing at the supple flesh with a tenderness so sweet it made your teeth hurt.

“Jungkook, give me more,” you cried, wrapping your arms around his neck as he continued to kiss and lick your chest.

“You’re so warm, it’s driving me mad,” he said, pushing you back down until your back was against your bed linen. Jungkook kissed down your stomach, licking and nipping lightly as he went. Your skin chilled into goosebumps as he did so, your body reacting to his touch like a moth to a flame.

“Your lips are so soft, like rose petals,” you said, touching his bottom lip with your thumb watching as it puckered under your touch.

“So is your skin, you taste like honey,” he murmured.

“Want to taste something better?” You asked, raising a brow as you shuffled your undergarments off. Jungkook’s eyes got even wider, if that was possible.

“I-I... fuck,” he breathed, eyes on your womanhood.

You rubbed your fingers over your slit, gathering your wetness on your fingers. Pulling your hand away, you offered your digits to Jungkook. He looked at your hand for a moment before hesitantly opening his mouth and capturing your fingers in a delicate embrace.

He moaned when your taste hit him, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. It was... sweet? He hadn’t expected it to be so. Although, Jungkook had discovered that you were full of surprises tonight.

“It’s a spell, it’ll taste like whatever you want,” you whispered.

“That’s a little odd,” he made a weird face in reaction after letting your fingers go from his petal like lips.

“Do you not like it?” You asked.

“No, no it’s not that,” he said quickly, pressing his lips to yours quickly.

“Mmm, then pleasure me,” you demanded, running your fingers through his hair gently.

Jungkook eagerly complied, connecting his mouth to your center with an urgency you didn’t know existed. His tongue lapped at you, bringing more of your essence into his mouth. He moaned at the sensation of your supple skin against his mouth. You writhed underneath his ministrations, feeling shocks of pleasure rushing through your veins.

“More, u-use your tongue more,” you encouraged, giving a little direction so he wasn’t lost. Jungkook followed your advice and turned from fat licks up your slit to direct pressure to your clit.

“Mmm,” he groaned, humping into the mattress pathetically.

“Just like that, right there,” you mewled, grinding against his face as he continued to please you with his mouth. Gripping at your thighs Jungkook suckled at your clit, loving the taste of you. “Fuck, baby,” you whined, hips moving against your will. You could feel yourself starting to reach that peak. Already, it was slightly embarrassing. Like you were the virgin here. But it felt so good, and it had been so long. The pleasure coursing through your veins was so intense that your head felt lighter.

“God, you’re so wet,” Jungkook mumbled, licking as another droplet of your wetness came gushing from you. His pupils were blown wide, black overwhelming the original brown of his eyes.

“All for you, Jungkook,” you praised. You felt him smile against your center, making his licks a little less precise.

Tangling your fingers in his hair you brought him closer to your pussy. Jungkook licked and sucked at you, moaning and whining as he brought you even nearer to that blissed peak you were searching for.

“Fuck, Jungkook, Jungkook fuck!” You cried out, gripping his hair to which it must’ve been painful. But he kept going. He wrapped his lips around your pearl, sucking harshly. You screamed, then the cord inside you snapped and you came on his tongue.

“Mm, that was the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” Jungkook said, licking his lips and staring at you with desire behind his eyes.

His cheeks were flushed, eyes blown wide, heart rate accelerated and breathing labored. He was so aroused you were frightened that if you held back for much longer he wouldn’t be able to control himself once he got inside of you. But that was alright, your wanted to watch him fall apart too. To lose himself to the sensations of sex and lust.

“You were so good. I’m so proud of you, made me feel amazing,” you whispered, bringing him to your lips. Kissing him gently, you coaxed him down onto his back. Jungkook did as you commanded without words, your lips never separating.

You opened his mouth with your tongue, slipping it inside his hot cavern and exploring the territory revealed. Fuck, he tasted like the sweetest poison, taking over your senses and demanding all of your attention. Your cunt throbbed with need, the need to have him inside of you right now. But, you wanted to be patient. Take your time with this man who was so gentle, yet strong.

“Want you inside me,” you said, smiling brightly.

“Okay,” he whispered, undoing the bindings of his shirt and letting it fall from his chest. You moved forward, pulling the fabric from around his body and tossing it to the floor. You looked him over, running your palms down his warm chest and slipping your hands underneath his waistband.

“Ah-your hands are cold,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss you.

Kissing him back and gripping his cock you smirk when his body jerked forward. “Mmm, so responsive for me,” you giggled, pumping his length a few times, watching as his frame stuttered.

“Feels so good,” he whimpered, bucking into your hand with an eagerness that made you smile.

“You know what will feel better?”

Jungkook’s breath fanned across your face as he tried to control himself.

“W-what?”

“This,” you said before coming forward and sinking down slowly onto him. You sighed at the slight burn and stretch he gave you. Fuck it was so good, he was so big inside of you. It made your head spin, the full sensation his cock gave you.

Jungkook was a little worse for wear.

“Fuck,” he whined out, gripping your hip and covering his eyes with his arm. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Let me know when you’re ready, I won’t move until you say so,” you soothed, running your palms down his chest and placing little kisses on his face that you could reach. Interlocking your fingers with his, you pulled his arm away from his flushed face.

His eyes were glassy, lips parted and swollen from kisses.

“You’re so tight, it feels really good,” Jungkook heaved, trying to keep himself centered.

“Mmm, you’re so big. Stretching me out, you might ruin me,” you teased, adjusting yourself in his lap.

“You-You can move now,” he said, gripping onto your hand a little tighter than before.

“Okay, hang on then.” You said, lifting your hips and slamming down on his lap once more. Jungkook groaned at the feeling of your heat leaving and returning with such ferocity. God, the slick sounds of the two of you joined together, echoing in the otherwise empty room.

Jungkook’s instincts seemed to kick in because he was rolling his hips upwards each time you came down, doubling the pleasure for the two of you.

“Fuck Jungkook,” you cried, a particularly hard thrust hitting that spot inside you making you see stars. Leaning down you captured his lips in a sloppy kiss, Jungkook’s mouth slightly open as he was breathing harsh. Licking down his chin and mouthing at his throat. He hissed in pleasure, fucking up into you again.

“Lord you’re so hot and-and wet, you’re soaking my lap,” he whispered, grabbing at you for some kind of stability.

“It’s because you’re making me feel so good, such a big dick in my pussy, I can barely breathe. Fuck you’re stretching my little pussy out, Jungkook. Gonna ruin me so no one else can fuck me but you? What a selfish baby you are, but that’s alright. I’ll only be yours,” you whined as he rutted into you harshly.

“Keep talking like that,” he pleaded.

“Talk about your big cock baby? How big you are and how good you’re making me feel? Fuck, Jungkook. Right there, fuck me just like that,” you huffed, working your hips down as he met you.

“I want to try something else,” he said, as you slowed your pace on his lap.

“Yeah? I’d love to know,” you answered back, grinding your clit against his pubic bone.

“Here, lie back,” he demanded softly. You did as he said, lying on your back and spreading your legs for him. Jungkook situated himself between your legs, eagerly finding your throbbing entrance and pushing in once more. The pair of you groaned at the sensation of the snug fit. Jungkook moved his hips forward, grinding against your clit.

Slick sounds echoed in your ears as Jungkook began setting a brutal pace. His hips hit your thighs with vigor, and the wonderful stretch filled your stomach with butterflies. You gasped and moaned with each new flick of his body into yours.

“Jungkook, Jungkook!” You cried out, gripping onto his biceps as he plowed forward into your tight cunt. You smiled at the fucked out look on his face, it was satisfying to know he was enjoying himself too.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t like this... I-I shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, sweat pouring down his face as he slowed his pace.

“Mmm, but doesn’t it feel so right? Keep going, I’m so close. Please don’t stop now Jungkook, I want you to cum in me,” you pleaded.

“Ah, I-I’m burning up. I need to... I want to,” he whimpered.

“What do you want baby? Whatever you want, you can have it, I’ll give it to you, I promise,” you mumbled incoherently.

“I want to cum inside you,” he growled, leaning down and licking your throat possessively. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to your sensitive body. Jungkook shuddered at your incessant clenching around him. He was so close, a tight coil raging in his stomach.

“Cum inside, I want to feel it dripping down my thighs when you finish. Fuck baby, I’m going to cum soon,” you cried, reaching between the two of you and rubbing your swollen clit with wanton desire.

“Fuck, I’m there,” he sobbed, cock grinding against your walls that couldn’t clench him any tighter he was certain. Until you came, sucking him back inside of you so hard he thought you’d feel pain.

“Jungkook!” You cried out, falling onto the bed in a slump of limbs.

Jungkook kept plowing into you, harsh smacks of his skin against yours echoing through the room. Jungkook leaned over you, his front touching your slick back. He continued to hump his dick inside you, causing you to whine from the overstimulation. But you didn’t dare tell him to stop.

“Fuck, fuck, so good,” he hiccuped, licking at your neck and shoulder as he finally felt himself let go. Jungkook cried out as he came inside you. The hot feeling of his cum coating your walls made your head spin with new found arousal.

Finally, he rested his head on your middle back, groping for your hand in the mess of sheets. You interlocked your fingers, kissing his hand to soothe him.

“Lie down, I’ll get you some water,” you urged, feeling his spent dick fall from your abused womanhood. Jungkook did as you asked, lying down in the bed next to you.

“Wait,” he whispered as you moved to get up.

“Hmmm?” you asked, turning around. The next thing you knew a soft pair of lips were pressed against yours. Jungkook’s weak arms wrapped around you, pulling you back into bed with him.

“I don’t think you’ve been punished enough, witch,” he growled, licking a thin stripe up your throat. A sharp whine came from you at the sudden dominance.

“No? Then by all means, punish me.”

#ficswithluv #Jessika Hathaway #Jungkook #BTS #Jungkook BTS #Jungkook Smut #Jungkook Fanfic #Jungkook Fanfiction #BTS Jungkook Fanfiction #Witch's Brew #Jungkookie #Kookie #Kookie Smut #Knight Jungkook #Knight Jungkook Smut #Knight Jungkook X Witch Reader #Jungkook X Reader #Prince Jin Mention

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

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(1/2) "So Ironwood says yes, we need to make things worse now so that they can be better later. We need to make sacrifices." You know what, I'm going to say it, and say it loud: James is hands down the most noble character of our entire cast right now. He is willing to risk everything, even his own self, in the hopes of destroying the world's greatest threat. To, as cliche as it sounds, save the world. He embodies what being a Huntsman is truly meant to represent.

It isn’t lost on me that this volume is giving us numerous parallels between Ozpin and Ironwood. Each of them have been put into a situation where they only have really shit options available to them: Do I burden a young woman with dangerous responsibility, or do I guarantee that this power falls into Salem’s hands, risking the rest of the world? Do I endanger the people of Mantle by limiting the resources they have to combat grimm, or do I let the resources go to their original recipients and never develop a means of combating Salem, risking the rest of the world? Each of them is faced with an immediate good (don’t hurt Pyrrha, help the people of Mantle) vs. a potential long-term good (don’t let Salem accumulate more power, hopefully defeat Salem for real). Both of them are tempted by passive actions (let the power go where it will, let the resources go where they’re already supposed to) and instead choose to actively try and make a difference. Ironwood, so much like Ozpin, is demonized because he’s thinking long-term and prioritizing the many over the few.

Which is where our group falters. They are, by and large, incapable of making those sacrifices. They’re focused on the immediate and the personal—you lied to us, you’re hurting the people right down below—and aren’t able to prioritize that potential future: I lied now to keep us safe later, I hurt them now to keep them from dying later. In many respects it’s a very classic form of heroism. A simplistic form. The hero does not harm others, period. The problem is that RWBY has crafted a world where that kind of heroism just isn’t feasible if you want any chance of winning. It’s all well and good to have a character functioning as an ideal, someone who nobly goes, “No! I won’t kill this genocidal maniac because killing is Wrong!” or “No! I won’t lie to anyone ever because lying is Wrong!” and then the story ends. The viewer never gets to see the consequences of that nobility, a world where the antagonist went on to escape and continue killing, where always telling the absolute truth came back to bite them in the worst way. As a man who has lived a thousand years and as another who had to step into his shoes, both Ozpin and Ironwood are characters who have to live past that ending. They keep witnessing the consequences of their more heroic choices, whether it’s Ozpin losing his children because he decided to trust Salem, or Ironwood watching Beacon fall because he didn’t have tight enough security the first time around. In contrast, Team RWBY are characters who are still written as if they can get that noble conclusion (with the exception being Yang and Blake killing Adam in self-defense). They think lying is always, objectively bad. They think hurting anyone is never worth the payoff down the line. They’re determined to play the role of the classic hero. Which in and of itself is a wonderful message and absolutely something to strive for if you can… but again, they’re living in a world where that’s simply not an option. So when circumstances create a situation where lying and harming others is truly the lesser evil, we get that hypocrisy. They do the same, awful things to survive as their adult counterparts and then turn around to loudly insist that they’re still better.

And yeah, for most of the series the group hasn’t had that kind of responsibility forced upon them. They’re not the ones burdened with immortality and charged with saving the world, or the general tasked with taking care of an entire kingdom. It’s incredibly easy to be critical of others’ choices when you’ve never been forced to make those choices yourself. “I would never have done that,” they say, safe in the knowledge that they’ll never have to find out. Though of course, we’ve now reached a point where the group does have responsibility. They know about Salem’s immortality. They know about the relic and Ozpin’s disappearance. They now have a very small taste of what Ozpin and Ironwood constantly live with. And what do they do? They choose the immediate and the personal. The easy route. They can keep making claims that they don’t know if Ironwood is trustworthy, but that rings pretty hollow when he’s been nothing but supportive and they’re off trusting strangers like Robyn instead. They simply don’t want to tell him because that’s hard and in regards to Ozpin there’s a level of guilt… so they don’t tell. They choose their own needs and desires and comfort over the many.

Ozpin was willing to ask Pyrrha to take on that burden to keep others safe from the Maiden powers. Ironwood was willing to endanger Mantle to hopefully stop Salem. If either had been able to take that burden on themselves—I’ll wield the power instead of endangering my student, I’ll endanger myself instead of my people—they would have, but life didn’t offer them that option. So they buckled down and did what they had to in order to make sure everyone survives, prioritizing that the world remain standing to fight another day. They’re willing to lose the battle to win the war. So far Team RWBY does have that kind of personal sacrifice that was denied to Ironwood and Ozpin. They get to shoulder the burden themselves instead of forcing another (Pyrrha, Mantle) to take it for them… and they still can’t make the hard call. For a hero personal sacrifice should be easier than watching another carry your sacrifice for you, and yet as of yet no one is willing to pay that smaller price to ensure that Ironwood doesn’t unintentionally harm the whole world.

For me it all just emphasizes how much characters like Team RWBY need people like Ironwood and Ozpin. If they want to play the perfect hero then they ultimately need a scapegoat. Someone to make those truly hard calls—situations where there’s nothing but horrific options available—and then when the dust settles they can play that classic role, celebrating victory or blaming them for failure. Whatever the situation needs. Until the writing actually acknowledges that in this world those classic heroes don’t have a hope of winning, that Team RWBY and company are no different from Ozpin and Ironwood in being forced to choose between shitty options… we’re just going to continue getting this hypocrisy.

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #mymetas #long post #jadekitty777

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lov3nerdstuff · 5 years

Text

Dark Stars {Part 3}

*Loki x OFC*

Part: 3/10

Words: 6.5k

Warnings: blood, nudity, fighting

Summary: ~Loki could just let her die here and now. His problems would be solved and he could go back to his usual ways. But then he would forever be left with an unsolved mystery and he hated the prospect of that even more than the fear of what would happen if she lived.~

A story of what happens when Loki stumbles upon someone who is like him in every way. Only better. Oh, and they just happen save Asgard too.

A.N.: To celebrate over 1000 people following me (how insane is that?!), I decided to share the newly edited version of the very first Loki fanfiction I ever wrote! Enjoy the mischief 💚

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

___________________________________

It would have been an unfair fight, considering Ivy's injuries and Loki's larger physical strength, if it hadn't been for the magic they threw at each other mercilessly. Forming weapons, attacking and defending, both showing off what they were capable of… only to refrain from doing any serious harm.

After what seemed like hours, they both lay next to each other on their backs, facing the ceiling, breathing heavily into the otherwise silent room.

Hurting and healing likewise, with nothing but their magical abilities, was very much draining for both, though Ivy found herself more exhausted than Loki was. She was sure that he knew that, but he hadn't acted upon it, which did not surprise her much. They both had had a couple chances to end each other, but both had refused to do it.

However only Ivy knew that she had indeed taken the difficult road to fight, by not using her strongest weapon, the very core of her magic. Because if she had, there would have been no holding back anymore, and Loki would have died along with every last part of Ivy's own soul. And she would never let that happen. Not again.

So they simply lay next to each other, very much alive, panting and listening to the other's drumming heartbeat.

"I don't despise you as badly as other beings." Loki finally spoke up between heavy breaths.

"Aw, I like you too." Ivy laughed breathlessly, smiling up at the ceiling. Repressing the core source of her magic was what had truly exhausted her, but she would gladly let Loki believe that it had been their fight. Might do his ego better.

Suddenly they heard a yell, an exclamation of horror, and upon that some heavy footsteps approaching the cell. Both Loki and Ivy propped themselves up to rest on their elbows and looked towards the wide eyed guards who stood in front of the barrier-sealed walls, gaping inside.

"Well, hello there, buddies!" Ivy said overly excited, in a too high pitched voice for it to be anything but sarcasm, making Loki chuckle quietly under his breath. She heard it nonetheless, and it made her skin tingle rather pleasantly.

The guards on the other hand only stared at them in shock and disgust, looking around the interior of the cell until their eyes fell upon Ivy and Loki on the ground once more.

Of course Loki knew what was causing them to stare... the once white walls of the cell were now covered in the deep crimson of both their blood, as it was smeared and pooling everywhere, even on the ceiling. To the guards it must have looked like a slaughterhouse, a place of massacre and war. And it had been just that, for the last hours. Now however it had become a zone of momentary armistice.

Loki knew that they had kind of overdone it during their fight… but no injury had come of it that hadn't long before been healed. One of the many benefits of magic and good practice. And allies. He was fairly certain that not every single one of his own injuries had been healed by himself indeed.

For now, Loki had to admit that it amused him to see the guards irritated like that. As a child he had enjoyed creating illusions just to mess with them, and he still did enjoy it. Only that this time, it wasn't an illusion.

"We need to report this incident to the king… Right?" One of the guards said to his fellows, and they reluctantly agreed before all hurried off into different directions.

"We should get out of this cell before they return." Loki murmured while standing up and stretching out his sore limbs. Ivy stretched out her hand towards Loki for him to help her up, but Loki ignored her, barely rising an eyebrow at her antics.

"I do have a plan, but you will have to trust me. Can you do that?" He asked instead, looking down at her in all seriousness as he towered over her body. Somehow… he liked the perspective.

Ivy nodded slowly, though remaining seated on the ground, as she still felt shaky both on the inside and the outside. For some strange reason, she had no doubt that she could trust Loki. Maybe that was more dangerous than their fight after all. "What do I need to do?"

Loki only smirked at her, mischief and chaos swirling in his eyes as they probably were in his mind, and to Ivy he had never looked more intriguing.

_______________

Once the guards came rushing back a few minutes later, having gotten order from the allfather to bring Loki to him immediately, they once again stopped dead in their track and stared at the cell. It was pitch black inside, holding a darkly opaque smoke that made it impossible to see.

"Loki, stop this nonsense!" One of the guards exclaimed. "We know of the illusional games you play. Stop it at once. The allfather wants to see you."

The smoke slowly dissolved and they could see more and more of what was happening inside.

Loki just stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, right in the middle of the room, back to wearing his bloodied coat and a wicked smirking directed at the guards. At his feet lay the body of the girl. Her neck was twisted in an unnatural way, her wide eyes staring lifelessly towards the guards.

Upon their shocked faces, Loki merely sighed. "She was beyond annoying. And so stupidly naive! I did you a favor."

Immediately the guards opened up the barriers, pushing Loki back into a corner with their weapons, while he had his hands risen in defeat, showing them that he was no threat. A guard checked on Ivy while three others kept their weapons pointed at Loki.

Suddenly the barrier was closed behind their backs, locking them into the cell within a broken second. Surprised yet again, they turned to see Loki and a perfectly alive Ivy standing outside, smiling innocently at them while their doppelganger illusions dissolved into a faint green glow inside the cell.

The guards shouted and tried to make the barriers go down again, but of course they failed miserably and their efforts were just as vain as their muted shouting.

"I cannot believe they truly are just that stupid!" Ivy laughed incredulously, shaking her head to herself. "How did you know that this would work?"

Loki smirked at her. "You learn a thing or two when you are locked away down here for a small eternity."

"So you have done this before?" She asked with sincere interest. "Escaping, I mean?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I deserved to be in there. And I never had a partner to uphold the second illusion." The tone of his voice told her to not question him any further, though Ivy refused to believe that he had ever truly deserved to be locked away.

For a very long second Loki was lost in thought, until they heard voices coming closer rather quickly.

"Trust me once more?" He asked quietly, and before Ivy could reply, he had already made the cell appear empty and quiet. When Ivy tore her eyes off the cell and looked down on herself, she quite audibly gasped, as she no longer looked like herself, but rather like one of the guards in their golden armor.

Loki turned away from her the next moment, and crossed his arms behind his back. "Take my hands." He commanded calmly, but with determination.

"What?" Ivy blurted out dumbfoundedly, blinking too often and breathing too loudly for her own liking.

Loki rolled his eyes. "You are going to lead me upstairs, and you will act like everything is perfectly as it should be. You are a guard, and you are taking me to speak to Odin. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Ivy's mind finally caught on, and she held his arms together with one –very large and very male– hand, while using the other to gently press a dagger to his back.

A small grin appeared on her face, as she couldn't help but enjoy having this new power over him, him who had only hours before tried to kill her. Half-heartedly, but tried he had nonetheless. Yet, her appearance was his work of magic, and she knew that her power currently didn't suffice to change anything about that.

Thus, with a silent sigh, she had to admit that he was currently still in a position of more power than she was herself. His magic, his body, his knowledge… The goodness in him. All was currently surpassing her own resources.

While what she held hidden within herself as the past source of her magic may be more powerful than everything he could draw power from at the moment, it certainly was more dangerous as well. Foremost, it was very much different, and very much not what she was trying to work with. Her attempts at drawing power from HIS kind of sources were still juvenile, as they were something so different from what she had been used to, what she bad been using as a source for all her life. But he mustn't know that, and she dearly hoped he never would. It was hard enough to suppress something that had been the very core of her being for an eternity, but she was more than willing to draw her energy from a different source from now on.

Still, despite her momentary powerlessness, she smiled while she pushed Loki towards the exit of the prisons.

"Don't you dare enjoying this… I hereby remind you that I have the power to end you in a second." Loki said quietly, for he could almost feel her smirking behind his back. Oh, if only he knew...

They passed the guards at the exit, but weren't hindered in their journey.

"Where to now?" She whispered to him in her attempt at a deep and manly voice.

Instead of answering with words, Loki turned around to her the very moment they were alone, then grabbed her by the arm and brought them into his chambers in an instant.

Ivy, who thanked fate that she looked like herself once again, started strolling around immediately. "This is beautiful, like a piece of a different world… Placed and hidden between all the silly gold of the palace." She mused in awe, before she came to stand in front of a floor length mirror and frowned at her reflection. "I look like I have bathed in the blood of my enemies… that's both great and gross."

Loki on the other hand did not feel like spending any more of his precious magic on anything or anyone, not even himself, at the moment, and sighed at the prospect of doing things the boring, mundane way.

"You may leave now. They will need a while to realize that we are gone." He said blandly as he moved through his space. "Though I advise you to take care of your appearance first. It wouldn't be wise to walk around looking like that."

Ivy turned around immediately, frowning deeply, but unable to keep herself from snapping at him. "First of all, fuck you. I can walk around any way I want. Secondly, I thought we were partners now..."

"Thinking really doesn't seem to be your strongest quality." He remarked, walking into his bathroom as he started to undress. "The fact that I do not hate you doesn't imply that you can stay."

"And what will you do, smartass? They will come looking for you too, and then they'll throw you into the cell again, if you decide to remain here." She groaned in annoyance, but also the slightest hint of worry. Why was he being so difficult?! Yet, once Ivy noticed his rapidly decreasing amount of clothing, she still couldn't keep herself from staring quite shamelessly at his flawless body, put on display like that...

"Like what you see?" He teased, now fully naked and lowering himself into a pool of hot water in the adjoining bathroom.

Ivy suppressed the urge to turn around, to blush furiously and run even faster, because that would only have given him even more reason to be so darn cocky. Instead, she remained standing in the middle of the main room. "I only deem it highly unfair that you get to take a hot bath after all this madness." She called towards him, in actually decently feigned confidence.

"This is my bedroom and my bathroom. Like I said, you are free to leave any time." He snorted in return.

And that exactly was the problem… Ivy didn't want to leave him.

Thus she went to throw herself onto the bed –which honestly looked more like a depot for books than a decent place for sleeping– with a deep sigh, before she moved to sit with her legs crossed beneath her, looking at the many books around her curiously.

"But what about you? A prince without a kingdom is hardly a prince anymore is he?" She called to Loki as her eyes skipped over the many covers and titles. He did not respond, but Ivy knew he was listening to her, and so she continued. "What about the poisoned bread? It was intended for someone in your family, don't you care about that at all?"

"Do I look like someone who cares?" He replied while scrubbing the blood off his skin a little more forcefully than necessary. Really, hadn't he acted hostile enough already for her to see that he wasn't a nice person, a good person?

"Actually, yes." Ivy stated calmly. "Would you have saved me otherwise?"

Again, he didn't respond.

"Look, I know that we both know that my magic is nothing compared to yours..." She started over, thinking of her poor previous attempts to copy his magic.

"I wouldn't say that. I liked your black smoke…" He replied honestly, and he by now knew that she was very much capable of the same magic as him. It only surprised him that someone of her capability was this poorly trained in the art indeed.

"Was that Loki giving me a compliment?" She laughed in surprise.

"Don't get used to it." Loki mumbled more to himself than to her, and Ivy could hear him stepping out of the water a moment later. From her spot on the bed, she fortunately didn't have to spend energy on keeping herself from staring, as she couldn't quite look into the bathroom anyway.

"Do you really want me to leave you now?" She finally asked, after another while of silence, in honesty and without the tease.

"No." He replied quietly, but his voice was not giving away any emotion.

"But you said I cannot stay. You said I must leave." Ivy still couldn't quite resist the temptation, and tried catching a glimpse of him by leaning far enough to the side to peak around the corner, almost falling off the bed.

"I said you cannot stay, because that is very true indeed. We both cannot stay here, in the palace. And I didn't say you MUST go, but that you MAY go… for who am I to keep a bird from flying? You are free to do whatever you want, Ivy." The smooth depth of his voice, in combination with his words, made her heart pick up speed concerningly fast and her skin crawl way too much, which she tried to suppress immediately.

Then he finally surfaced back out of the bathroom, clean and clad in a way simpler form of his previous attire. "But since you are still here, I assume you won't be leaving anytime soon." His voice sounded rather amused by the fact than mad about it, and his gaze met hers a second later.

Ivy watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, his eyes fixed on hers intently, like a predator circling its prey. No, she wouldn't look away first. He came closer and closer, now standing directly in front of her at the edge of the bed.

With a small smirk he placed his hands on the mattress on both her sides, leaning closer and thereby making her lean backwards, until Ivy's back was pressed against the soft sheets. Loki hovered over her, his face a mere inch from hers, and she could feel the warmth of his body scorching on her skin, his breath tickling her neck… there was something in his eyes that Ivy could not quite grasp, but it was driving her positively mad.

But she wouldn't let him manipulate her, and her eyes remained locked with his, showing nothing but curiosity as she certainly would not let him see how much he truly affected her.

"I think you should get off my bed. Right now." He whispered softly, but very determinedly.

"Make me." Ivy responded in very much the same tone, unable to smirk like she had intended, chest rising and falling heavily to almost touch his own so shortly above her.

And in an instant Loki pulled away, standing up straight and turning his back towards her as he sauntered towards the balcony. In his hand he carried a book he had just snatched from its place shortly above Ivy's shoulder on the bed.

Jerk... But two could play at that game, and so she got up from the bed with a new determination, setting her mind on payback.

"If your royal highness doesn't mind, I will also take a bath now. In YOUR bathroom." She said sweetly. "Well, actually… I will take a bath now whether you mind it or not."

Then she started undressing in a painful slowness, losing item by item as she sauntered over to the bathroom, her back facing the balcony where Loki had taken a seat on the balustrade.

Ivy was most certain that he was watching her every move, and she couldn't help herself but enjoy it a little. Both, the tease and his eyes on her. Once she had reached the bathroom door, she had undressed entirely, down to her bare skin (and the magic still clinging to certain places).

"Like what you see?" She teased in the same tone he had previously used, as she turned around in an instant, barely catching a glimpse of Loki ogling her before he dropped his eyes back towards his book so quickly that Ivy almost would have missed it in the first place. But she was fairly certain that he was blushing the tiniest bit.

"Coward." She smirked, before kicking the door to the bathroom shut behind herself. Well, that had been rather bold, even for her, and she was somewhat proud of it.

With the same proud smirk she looked around the bathroom, only to find that indeed the word was very true to its meaning. Right in the middle of the room, filling it almost entirely, there was a large pool filled with steaming water that a few stairs led into.

The smirk dropped from her face and she admired the view, for this truly was a bath for a king. Or a queen… and she would not waste a second of it, enjoy it while she could.

_______________

Outside of the bathroom, Loki was still sitting on the balustrade of the balcony, smirking to himself. She was such a tease… and she surely knew how to fight, she had proven that much in the cell. That only made her all the more attractive, and Loki soon found himself sighing rather than smirking. She had proven herself of use to him while escaping… maybe he should keep her around a little while longer.

But she had been right, they needed to leave the palace as soon as possible. As if that was news to him… he shook his head to himself. However, usually his plans of escape were meant for one person only. And usually he actually HAD a plan for escaping after whatever mischief he had caused.

Now that (for once) he truly hadn't brought the situation upon himself, he needed to improvise and actually plan and think for two. The thought annoyed him, for he enjoyed being the master of his own fate, and his own fate alone.

And yet here he was, waiting for the sassy girl to be ready to leave. How foolish of him. How very very foolish. Maybe he should just leave now, quietly and unseen, to only be responsible for his own fate again. Yes, maybe he should ignore how desirable and tempting the current state of affairs was, and just run.

But if he ever wanted to redeem himself, to get out of this mess and not just far enough away from it, he would need her. If he ever wanted to be left alone again, first and foremost by the allfather himself, he would need her. And if she wanted to ever live in peace again, without him nor anyone bothering her, she would need him as well. Thus, despite his utter dislike of the word, they ought to be a team from now on. But being partners didn't mean he had to stop messing with her.

Then, as if placed to purposely distract him, his gaze fell upon the rags that once had been her clothes, strewn and neglected on the marble floor of his bedroom, and a devilish smile started to spread on his lips.

_______________

Once Ivy had successfully washed all the blood (both her own and Loki's) off her body, she moved on to finish healing her wounds and bruises, and then spent a little extra time simply letting herself drift in the hot water in accordance with her drifting thoughts. After a while of peaceful solitude, she finally felt ready to face Loki again. Almost looked forward to it, even. But she didn't look forward at all to having to wear her dirty clothes again and she cursed herself for not taking them into the bathroom with her. Even a quick, improvised wash in the pool would have been an improvement to their poor condition... but giving Loki the opportunity to make fun of her was not part of the plan, and he certainly would have if she'd gone on to clean her garments by hand. Thus she only sighed and stepped out of the pool at last, sauntering through the bathroom until she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and she sighed again.

Cuts, scratches and bruises she could heal until they had completely faded, but not scars as deep as the one on her shoulder. To be honest, she probably would have failed to even as much as properly heal it in the first place. Surely she could have prevented it from hurting, or from becoming life-threatening to her, but the truly magnificent work Loki had done on it was more than she could have hoped for. Despite the still visible scar. Maybe not even Loki could heal every wound to the point of fading.

She traced the thin, ragged line that was still visible right under her collarbone with a gentle finger, admiring his work. It looked nothing like the scars on her back, on the entire rest of her body. Those were leftovers from past wounds she had tried to heal by herself, without having had results remotely as impressive. Ivy just wasn't any good in patching herself up prettily… only effectively.

She had gotten quite good at hiding scars and blemishes from watchful eyes though, which is exactly what she had done a few moments ago when undressing. She hadn't wanted Loki to see them, nor to question her about their origin. They were reminders of a long past life, and thus her own concern only. At least they usually lay hidden beneath her clothing, so she didn't think of them all too often anymore. There would be new wounds, new scars to come anyway, and she had to live with it anyhow.

After the quick inspection in the mirror, she was positive that every new and minor wound had been properly treated and healed by herself. That was good news for once, and she almost would've felt content, if it wasn't for the little fact that she would have to walk back out of the bathroom, completely naked, only to be mocked by one certain god. Great. He had yet only seen her backside unclothed, and she wanted to leave it at that. For now… Her mind added before she could shake the thought out of her head.

As she looked around the bathroom, she finally spotted a closed door that seemed very promising. Grasping for straws now, she walked over and found the door leading her into a small and dark closet that was hardly worth mentioning in comparison to this grand bathroom. It probably was this tiny because Loki almost never actually physically changed his clothing, without the use of magic. But despite the admittedly poor number of options, she finally found just what she had been looking for, smiling to herself as she resurfaced out of the dark closet. Oh, Loki would absolutely hate this…

_______________

Once he heard the bathroom door being opened, Loki tore only his eyes off his book, while his face and body didn't move an inch. That probably was for the better, for if he had lifted his face to greet her, she could have seen his jaw dropping.

Ivy came walking out of the bathroom almost happily, the sound of her naked feet on the marble floor echoing through the room, with her hair still damp and starting to curl again around her shoulders. Now that the raven strands weren't all tied up, tangled and bloodied anymore, they spiraled down almost to the gentle curve of her waist.

But what almost had him falling off the balcony indeed was the fact that she wore one of his shirts. ONLY one of his shirts, on her bare body. And she looked utterly godly by doing so.

Must be the shirt, he tried to tell himself, but failed in even forming a straight line of thought for a few seconds, before he finally regained his composure.

And just like that, he knew that it was his turn again in their little game. A smirk came onto his lips, and he jumped off the balustrade, turning his back towards the open window where Ivy just now came to stand.

"Loki, where are my clothes?" She asked, rising an eyebrow while looking around the bedroom once more to make sure she hadn't missed them. Nope, they were definitely gone.

His grin broadened. "Come here..." He gave her a wave to come closer, his back still facing towards her as he looked down onto the plains of Asgard.

Once she stood next to him, leaning against the railing like he was, he pointed down to the fields way below them. "See that tiny white spot down there?"

Ivy took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down, then closed eyes for a second and finally turned to Loki, who was still grinning at her almost proudly.

For just a moment, Ivy didn't say or do anything, and Loki almost believed he might have won their game already. Then however she moved so quickly that he could see it coming, but failed to dodge the punch she threw right at his face.

Ivy watched with a proud smile how Loki rubbed his hurting jaw. "Ouch…" He commented utterly unimpressed, even though on the inside he was very much impressed indeed. It hadn't hurt him all that much, but he had expected a different reaction, and certainly not anticipated her speed.

"You deserved that." Ivy said contently, turning around to walk back into the bedroom, while Loki followed closely behind her.

"I deemed your clothing inappropriate and made the decision to get rid of it. Since you want to stay with me for now, I thought this appropriate." He commented with a seriousness in his voice that made Ivy snort.

"Who said I want to stay with you?" She rose an eyebrow at him in amusement.

"You are wearing my shirt." He replied smoothly, thinking he had made a point, which he probably also had.

"And you are wearing down my patience." She replied shortly, while closely observing the reaction on his face. "Does that mean you want to stay with me as well?"

Loki kept on smirking, as he clearly enjoyed this way too much. But so did Ivy, and thus they stood glaring at each other for a while longer, before Ivy finally turned her back to him and started marching towards the doors that led into the hallway.

"What do you think you are doing?" Loki asked, all playfulness gone from his voice the moment she opened the door.

"Getting dressed." She replied with a smirk, looking at him over her shoulder, while walking into the candle lit hallway.

Loki surely hadn't seen that coming. "Ivy!" He hissed, but she was already too far gone. In an instant he moved to follow, soon coming to walk next to her. "I don't know what you are doing, but you will stop it RIGHT NOW!" He spoke very calmly, yet dangerously low and laced with both anger and concern.

"You wanted me to wear something more appropriate for your royal ass, and now you need to suffer the consequences. But, of course, you are free to leave at any time." Ivy smiled innocently, but kept on walking down the hallway nonetheless.

"The palace is crowded with guards looking for you and me, and they will most certainly not be gentle when they throw you into the prisons again!" He tried to reason with her, but without any results. She was one hell of a stubborn tease.

"Well, you better prevent us from getting caught then. You owe me anyway." She mused quietly.

"I don't owe you anything. And I'm not going to waste precious magic on someone as braindead as you." He snapped back, but while they walked, Loki kept scanning the hallway nonetheless. For reasons beyond him, he felt oddly protective over Ivy, and obviously he was not going to let himself get caught either. But for the moment, he only remained silent and watchful, while still going along with whatever she was up to.

And despite his own reason, he just couldn't stop thinking that Ivy was walking around the palace wearing nothing but his shirt and a smirk. And that she was obviously totally unimpressed by the impending danger.

What in all the realms did she think she was doing anyway? He could have just brought them wherever she wanted to go, but since she had refused to tell him her destination, he was left to follow her through the hallways like a lost puppy. Oh, how he hated that. Yet, in the very depth of his mind, he kinda enjoyed the excitement of it all. Enjoyed that Ivy wearing his shirt made his heart beat impossibly fast, and his stomach twist most pleasantly.

Suddenly they heard quiet footsteps in the distance, coming rapidly closer towards their position as they grew louder. Ivy still didn't seem to take interest in it, but Loki grew more nervous by the second. The footsteps were right around the next corner now…

Ivy was still not remotely slowing down, nor doing anything to prevent the inevitable, and Loki realized he had to act. With one swift move he wrapped an arm around her waist and covered her mouth with his hand, swooping her off her feet to vanish into the shadows together before she could make a sound, then pressing their bodies against the cold stone wall and thus out of sight. He inwardly cursed himself for using his magic despite promising not to, but went on to make the dark shadows of the hallway even darker, so Ivy and him couldn't be seen from the out of the light.

Only then, while they waited for the chatting guards to pass, for the adrenaline to ebb down, he realized that he still held Ivy's body pressed to his. The warmth that radiated off her almost made his eyes flutter shut in bliss, and he couldn't remember a time when someone had been this close to him for more than the second it took to stab them.

Then she bit into his finger and the feeling was gone in an instant, leaving him flustered and desperate to regain his composure as he let go of her quickly. And yet, as she turned around to face him, there was none of the expected anger in her eyes, but they were wide and shiny and probably looked exactly like his own in that moment. Surprised, and deeply irritated.

For a few long seconds, they only stared at each other wide-eyed, before Loki remembered who and where he was, only to immediately rise his walls back up again, forcing on the indifferent facade back onto his face. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light once more, waiting for Ivy to lead the way, which she did without as much as a word.

After crossing a few hallways and, on Loki's constraint, dodging into the shadows separately a few more times whenever guards crossed their way, Ivy seemed to finally have reached her destination.

"You know, if you had told me where you wanted to go we could have been there in a second. Without all the trouble." Loki remarked quietly, while Ivy pushed the wooden door open. They stood in front of Sif's chambers.

"I don't know what the lady who lives here is called. I merely know that she must have roughly the same size of clothing as me." With that, Ivy disappeared into the darkness behind the door.

Looking down the long hallway once more, Loki followed her into the room reluctantly. "How did you know she was not in here?"

"She will be attending dinner at this time." Ivy answered while disappearing in Sif's closet, leaving the door open so Loki could see what she was doing.

"So you knew not once where her room is, but also when she will be at dinner?" Loki frowned, but was positively curious and thus had to ask. "Did you also know where my room was?"

"Obviously." Ivy laughed while picking up various pieces of clothing here and there. "I know my way around the palace as well as you do."

Of course she did… Loki rolled his eyes and turned around to inspect his surroundings with mediocre curiosity.

"This should do." Ivy finally said as she walked out of the closet, shutting the door behind her.

Loki turned around and bit down the smile that wanted to spread on his lips. There was truly nothing that didn't flatter Ivy, she could've worn a potato sack and still look gorgeous… it was ridiculous, really.

She had chosen black leather bottoms, which fit her legs snugly, but not as snugly as they were supposed to. Then, to his surprise, she still wore his shirt, tucked it into the hem of the pants. On top, she had put on a black jacket that had leather pads on the arms and was open and flowy in the front. It looked so utterly Midgardian that Loki wondered where Sif had gotten it in the first place.

"You chose my shirt over Sif's armor?" He teased, not able to hide his smirk any longer.

"Green is my color, darling…" She winked at him and didn't fail to notice just how pleased Loki seemed with the fact. "And as for her armor… She wears it literally all the time, and that means everyone would be able to tell I stole it from her." Ivy answered and turned around for Loki to fully see the clothes she chose. "Is this more what you'd deem appropriate?" She chuckled, walking over to stand in front of him with a teasing smirk.

"It will do." He said, averting his eyes to keep himself from staring at her. Both her looks and her being were doing odd things to his mind again. "Now tell me… What got into you that you decided to walk around the palace practically naked?"

"Oh, don't tell me you didn't enjoy it!" Ivy laughed and started strolling around the room, taking in the warrior's belongings and decorations. But as Loki didn't answer, she turned around to him once more. His face showed no more hint of fun and jokes, but instead a seriousness that made Ivy shudder.

"I saw the woman you call Sif a lot during my exploration of the palace and I enjoyed her sense of fashion." She tried once more, but Loki still didn't buy it.

"Alright, if you must know, I… wanted to prove something." She finally admitted, though leaving it at the vague expression.

"I don't know whether you are insane, brave or simply fucking stupid." He commented coldly, after hearing her poor excuse of an explanation.

"Maybe a little bit of them all?" Ivy smiled at him almost affectionately, making Loki roll his eyes at her.

"Anyway, it was a very risky thing to do. You should thank me. If I hadn't stepped in, you would be back in your cell by now." Loki replied in such a condescending manner that Ivy frowned at him, thoroughly annoyed by him constantly belittling her.

"Who says we would have been caught? Or even seen for that matter?" She snapped right back, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"The guards were right around the corner and you showed no intention in doing anything to preventing the inevitable! Did you even think about the consequences of getting caught?!" His voice was dangerously low now, making Ivy shiver a little in its depth, but she would not let him win this.

"Did it ever cross your peanut of a mind that maybe, just maybe, I am not a complete idiot? That I am very much capable of taking care myself? No? Well, let me tell you that I can very well save myself and your sorry ass along with me!" She yelled at him, finally fed up with his constantly hurtful remarks, belittling comments and downright condescending attitude. Teasing and games was one thing, but mocking in seriousness was another.

"Oh, so you weren't dying before I graciously decided to save your life?" He yelled back, anger shining bright in his eyes like stars in the nightsky. At least she had his full attention now.

"Maybe you shouldn't have saved me if you regret it so much now." She breathed as came to stand right in front of him, staring coldly up into his eyes with every intention of showing him how little she cared by now. Cared if she lived or died. Cared about his opinion, about his stupid remarks and about him. But her eyes betrayed her.

_______________________________

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lendmyboyfriendahand · 4 years

Text

Didn’t get a lot of writing done today, so have an Avengers fic I never posted from 2016.

Howard Stark was on his way back from a night celebrating Stark Industries’ latest business deal. He had invited Maria, but she never wants to come to these more causal things, saying Howard deserves “a night out with the boys” every so often. He decided to forgo the chauffeur and drive himself back tonight – and his blood alcohol content actually cooperated with the idea. He’d walked from work to the bar, and went to retrieve the Aston Martin from Stark Industries’ secure parking garage. As Howard passed a dark alley, no different from five others on this street, a bulky figure wielding a hunting knife stepped out. Howard knew quite well that even in his prime, he wasn’t a skilled fighter, and his prime was over thirty years ago. He carefully raised one hand while reaching into his back pocket with the other. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble. I’m getting my wallet out right now; it has over two hundred dollars in cash. You can take it, and I’ll turn around and go the other way.”

Unlike any mugger with sense, though, the man didn’t accept the wallet, or demand that Howard hand over his watch, or his cufflinks, or his fancy cell phone (the carrying case for that is a bit obvious, miniaturization is definitely going to be the next area for improvement, Howard’s already working on a half-dozen ideas). Instead, the man punched Howard in the head and pulled him into the alley before he could get his bearings. The beating continued, although the knife wasn’t brought into play yet. Howard clawed at the attacker, hoping to provide enough of a fight that the man would seek out a different victim. If nothing else, maybe Howard could make the man bleed, get some DNA evidence. He managed to catch the edge of the man’s scarf, and pull it away. Howard started to catalog the man’s features for a police report – brown hair, blue or green eyes, hard to tell which in this light, stubble, about six feet tall – when a flash of familiarity hit him. “Barnes? I thought you died decades ago.”

The attacker says “That’s not my name.”

“Oh? What is your name then?” It’s highly unlikely to work, but sometimes even a practiced agent – which Howard was beginning to suspect this man was, based on the impersonality of the hits that still manage to hit every place that can cause maximum pain combined with the fact that Howard hasn’t been able to get even one hit in – will fall for the obvious simply because they don’t expect it.

The question actually made the attacker pause, one hand cold around Howard’s throat and the other raised in the air. “I don’t know. A weapon doesn’t need a name, only people do.”

Okay, Howard was being attacked by a crazy man. Might as well run with what he had, hopefully someone will come by soon – the bar wasn’t in that bad of a neighborhood. “Then how do you know you’re not Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th?”

“You said he was dead. I am not dead.” A hard punch to Howard’s kidney made the point especially clear.

“No body was ever found. The fall should have been fatal, but if someone had come by in the next hour or two they could have taken him – you captive.” Whoever this was, he wasn’t punching Howard as long as Howard was talking, and there’s a lot he can say about Barnes without going near anything classified. “Maybe you don’t remember the name Barnes but Captain Rogers – Steve – called you Bucky.”

The man actually seemed to recognize this name, and Howard began to wonder if this might actually, miraculously, be Barnes. “Bucky… Who are you? How do you know so much about me?”

“My name is Howard Stark. I was a friend of Steve’s and your friend as well.”

That brought the knife out, appearing at Howard’s throat. “Prove it. Prove you’re not just tricking me to get me to break orders.”

“I have pictures of you at my house, even some with both of us together.” The knife didn’t move. “There’s also a photo in my wallet of Steve. You recognized your name, you’ll probably recognize Steve. He’s the blond man.”

The man who might be Barnes sheathed the knife, but instead picked Howard up by the throat, holding him against the alley wall while he grabbed Howard’s dropped wallet with the other hand. Credit cards, receipts, and cash were all dumped carelessly to the ground. Howard felt a twinge of guilt past the suffocation as his attacker pushed aside the photographs of Tony and Maria with the toe of his boot. He stood stock still for a long moment before rounding on Howard. “This is wrong! The face is familiar, but the man shouldn’t look like that.”

“He was in terrible shape for most of his life,” Howard gasped. “You’d probably remember him being about five foot two and ninety pounds. I and another scientist gave him a serum that made him tall and strong, far more so than an ordinary man. Come to think of it, you’ve probably got some too, the blood tests we did after you were rescued were a bit odd.” This seemed to calm the other man, as Howard now had both feet on the ground and could breathe fully, although the man’s left hand still rested on his collarbone.

“Can you show me proof?”

“Yes, I have photos of Steve before the serum as well. I can even prove that you’re really Barnes, I have a copy of your fingerprints.”

“Good. Bring me to them.”

“Are you done trying to kill me?”

“Yes. If I go back, they’ll take what I’ve learned away from me, and I need to find out who I was. The information I was given for this mission was obviously incomplete, and you are the only relevant source of information.”

“Okay then, follow me to my car; my house is bit of a ways from here.” Howard actually found it reassuring to have confirmation that this is the work of an organization, and not just a very crazy solitary mugger. Hired killers can be bought out, and even a loyal agent can usually be persuaded to see reason. A legitimately insane man would be far less predictable.

The drive home was the tensest half hour of Howard’s life, as Barnes – the man seemed less and less likely to be anyone else – was apparently carrying a pistol, and spent the entire ride pointing it casually at Howard’s let ear.

Howard turned to Barnes when they reached the mansion. “I don’t suppose you could put the gun away for a bit?” Of course, that just got the gun placed right at his temple.

“No. You’ll try to run, they always do.”

“I’m not going to try to run; I don’t need to. They always run because they don’t want to die, but you aren’t trying to kill me.” The gun didn’t lower, so Howard thought of something else. “Look, you could probably kill me in less than five seconds without the gun. I’m not asking you to throw it away, just put in your pocket or wherever you had it before.”

“If you’re not trying to escape, why does the location of the gun matter?” Barnes seemed honestly curious, apparently unaware that not all social situations are improved by firearms.

“If you have the gun out, my wife, as well as possibly the butler or the doorman, will see you and call the police. They’ll assume that my life is danger.”

“If I have the gun out, I can shoot them before they can call for help.”

That startled Howard, hearing Barnes talk so forthrightly about shooting random people just for being in the wrong place. “NO! If you shoot them, I won’t tell you anything about your past.”

“You will tell me all I need to know, whether or not you want to.”

Howard changed tack again, realizing that an exchange of threats with an amoral assassin – possibly with the serum, based on the alley – was unlikely to succeed, and putting on the sweetness instead. “I’m not trying to threaten you. If you’re willing to follow some of my – guidelines, I’ll be much more cooperative, and you’ll find out what you need to know faster. I’m just trying to warn you that shooting anyone will make the police come, and then you won’t have as much time to look at the pictures of your past.”

Barnes looked at Howard for a long moment. “In the field, it is necessary to defer to those with more expert knowledge of the situation at hand,” he stated, then tucked the gun somewhere under his coat. Howard breathed out and led Barnes in to the house, trying to convince himself he wasn’t letting his family’s future murderer in the front door.

After two hours, Howard has been able to figure out a few things about the situation. First, the man before him truly was Barnes, at least according to the finger prints from the right hand. The other hand is metal, which can be seen to go up past the elbow when Barnes removes his jacket due to being too warm. Barnes doesn’t know who wanted Howard dead, other than that Barnes believes them to be the same people he usually works for. However, Barnes’s memory is completely shot – he not only doesn’t remember the war, but also doesn’t remember anything beyond a few months ago, although his sense of time seems odd, with Reagan having been president then.

“Why don’t you go to bed now?”

“I have not yet recovered the missing information; several of these objects trigger headaches and images but the images are incomplete.”

“I need to go to bed now. It’s one a.m. and I have an eight a.m. meeting in the morning.”

“Your presence is not necessary for me to gain information.”

“You can take that big trunk with you; it’s mostly pictures and files about things you already witnessed. But I’d really prefer that you stay in a guest bedroom overnight; you’ll startle the maids if you stay in my study.”

Barnes cocks his head, obviously trying to figure something out, then nods. “I will follow you to my assigned quarters.” Barnes picks up the trunk – no mean feat, it’s three feet long, two feet wide and two feet deep and full of paper – and watches Howard like an actor waiting for the next cue.

Howard decides that one the third floor east wing guest rooms will do – Howard, Maria, and Tony have rooms on the north side, and the servants who stay overnight are all on the west wing, this is as far away from innocents who might be in danger as he can put Barnes while keeping the man in the house. Barnes doesn’t look around, doesn’t ask about food, just sets the box down and resumes paging through it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind the door on the left, feel free to use it if you need to.”

Barnes looks up and meets Howard’s eyes, but gives no other sign if he likes his accommodations. Howard leaves the room and head towards his bed, but not before stopping at his lab to turn on the surveillance cameras for that wing, and check the footage from outside.

As Howard slipped into bed, Maria murmured “Hmm, you got in late.”

Howard: “I met an old friend, and he needed a place for the night. I put him in the east wing; I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.” His voice is still a bit hoarse from being choked around the neck, but luckily Maria seems to accept it as exhaustion.

Maria: “You know the reason had better be good, I hate being unprepared for guests.”

Howard: “Trust me, my dear, it is. Now why don’t we both get some rest?”

#my fic #tehhumi October #i have 9k of disconnected fragments of this #the problem on reread is that I made Tony stark be the emotionaly competent one #and that just isn't realistic #also I have plot in mind but no actual end and not a full middle #we'll see if I post the rest of it or not #note this was written after CA:TWS but before Civil War #I just thought it would be fun (angsty) if Bucky had been the one to kill Howard #he was told to make it look like a mugging gone wrong

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banduckoot · 5 years

Text

Thank you so much for the compliment!

So, you wanna know how the mutants react to becoming first time fathers? This sort of thing is very much up my alley, so this is gonna be a blast to write.

Before I get into each individual mutant, I'd like to note that because they are almost all different species, and evolved versions of said species at that, their babies might be born in ways far different than that of a human baby. So this might get a bit out there! Okay, here we go...

RIPPER ROO

When Ripper is told he's going to be a dad, he's stunned by the news, and for once, he's not laughing. For once, the mad kangaroo has a moment of lucidity. He leans onto his S/O, head on their shoulder, and starts crying a little. While he can't quite put it into words, he's unsure of the whole situation, even a bit afraid. How is someone as crazy as he is supposed to be a good parent? He doesn't want to hurt his baby with his antics.

Ripper voluntarily starts undergoing therapy again. As his sanity returns to him, he starts researching on how to be a good parent. He wants to make himself better, as well as knowledgeable, for the sake of his child.

By the time Ripper first meets the baby, he's no Dr. Roo, but he's just confident enough that he's got a handle on his sanity. His straitjacket is untied just long enough to let him hold the baby for the first – and hopefully not the last – time. He cries again as he holds the little bundle to his face, this time from happiness. He resists the urge to lick the baby out of affection, instead opting to nuzzle it gently.

Ripper continues therapy long after the baby arrives, never wanting to go back to the way he was before. He's going to be a good dad, no matter how much work it takes. And one day soon, that straitjacket is coming off completely so he can hold his baby properly.

KOALA KONG

Kong doesn't believe it at first when he's told he's going to be a father. He thinks S/O is joking with him. But when it finally sinks in, he's excited at the news! He gives S/O a big hug and a kiss, and swears he's going to be the best dad ever!

Kong bends over backwards preparing for the baby's arrival, and taking care of and pampering his S/O. It's exhausting, but it turns out to be worth it once the baby is born.

Kong is emotional about the birth of his child, more than he's ever been in his life, and after he gets the tears out his system, he happily shows the baby off to everyone else. He's proud, he's happy, and he's going to give his kid the best life he can offer it. With lots and lots of piggyback rides included.

PINSTRIPE

Pinstripe is blown away by the news that he's gonna be a dad. He cheers, he jumps up and down with joy, he nearly fires victory rounds from his gun before deciding that's too risky for once. He showers his S/O with kisses and tells them he's gonna make sure their baby has the best, happiest life imaginable. He's beyond excited, and quite pleased with himself that he got S/O pregnant.

Pinstripe holds a party to announce the pregnancy, and pretty much everyone he knows is invited, including all his henchmen, who are almost as excited as he is! They congratulate their boss and S/O, and start placing bets on the baby's gender.

Pinstripe goes all out in preparation for the baby's arrival, spending money on the best baby supplies he can afford. Everything is designer and top of the line. He also has his henchmen build a nursery, yelling at them for getting even the slightest thing wrong; it has to be perfect for his child!

When the baby arrives, Pinstripe is more emotional than he's ever been in his whole life. He coos over the baby, kisses their forehead, and even tries singing softly to them in both English and Italian. He's overjoyed, and he proudly shows the baby off to everyone. He and his henchmen share cigars in celebration of the baby's arrival, being careful not to smoke anywhere near the baby, of course.

KOMODO JOE

Komodo Joe discovers he's going to be a dad when his S/O shows him an egg they've laid, or perhaps a whole clutch of them, up to 30 at most! Either way, Joe is shocked, but happy! He gives his S/O lots of affection before turning his attention to the egg(s) and talking to it/them softly, saying hello to his child/children for the first time and telling them he loves them already.

Joe secures as many baby supplies as he can find, and helps his S/O by helping them make a better nest, as well as taking turns incubating the egg(s) over the coming weeks. Incubating the egg(s) is kind of boring and tedious – not to mention hard on Joe's spine – but fortunately, Joe has books to read, soft music to listen to, and his phone to browse the internet.

When the egg(s) hatch, Joe is a very proud and happy daddy... but because Komodo dragon babies are natural-born climbers from birth, taking care of one or more is truly exhausting. He has to recruit Moe to help him out once in a while, which thankfully Moe is happy to do.

KOMODO MOE

Moe's experience with becoming a father is more or less the same as Joe's. He's happy, celebrating the news much more loudly than Joe with his baby/babies. He is more meticulous about preparing for his babies, his parental instincts coming in full swing! And he's very, VERY careful about incubating the egg(s), since he's kinda heavy. If he's truly paranoid, he might have to resort to using blankets instead.

When Moe's babies are born, he gushes over them and snuggles them and basically acts like a huge teddy bear towards them. Moe is, surprisingly, a natural with babies, and has far less trouble with his kids than Joe does with his.

TINY TIGER

Being the only thylacine left, Tiny never thought he'd end up becoming a dad. So when his S/O tells him the big news? His jaw drops. He stares into space, trying to process this information. Then, he cries. He's happy. He's never been this happy in his whole life. When he stops crying, he hugs S/O and snuggles them, purring away happily.

After that, Tiny becomes very, VERY protective of S/O while they're pregnant. He doesn't want to leave them out of his sight because of the baby. He growls when people get too close; he even tries to bite once in a while. S/O often has to tell him to calm down and reassure him that it's safe.

Tiny tries to read up on parenting, but his limited smarts make it difficult. He instead opts to take parenting classes, and though he suffers some difficulties – and a few temper tantrums – he gets better with practice. He becomes a favorite among his female classmates, impressed by how devoted he is.

Finally, the baby is born. Tiny can't believe how... well, TINY the baby is! He's so incredibly gentle with his new child that it's a sight to behold. He becomes the most doting father ever, taking care of them, playing peekaboo with them, singing to them... and being very protective of them, threatening to snap at anyone he deems a threat. He can't wait for the baby to grow older, because he wants to teach them how to be big, strong, and dangerous like he is!

DINGODILE

Dingodile is incredibly shocked when he's told he's gonna be a dad. This is because he's not an ordinary mutant; he's a hybrid of two very different animals, so he was certain that he'd be sterile or something, you know, like a mule? However, when it's confirmed that he is in fact capable of having kids, he gets worried. What is this baby going to be like? What if it isn't healthy? What if he's not a good dad? He never expected to become a father, so the thought of raising a family never crossed his mind.

Dingodile spends a good deal of his S/O's pregnancy scared to death of what the future is going to bring. It's only when S/O sits him down and talks to him that he reveals the full extent of his fears. It takes a lot of reassuring, but in the end, Dingodile agrees to take it easy and not let his worries get to him. Whatever happens, happens. The rest of the pregnancy is spent doing preparations and research, as well as taking care of S/O.

When the baby finally arrives, happy and healthy, Dingodile is beyond relieved. He can't believe this is real. He can't believe he's a dad now! He's so happy! He's so proud! He eagerly shows off his baby to everyone. It's the most excited anyone's ever seen him, and it's a little jarring to those who know him. But Dingodile doesn't care. He spends a lot of time bonding with his new baby, taking them on his usual activities to teach them everything he knows about being a dingodile. He's protective of the little tyke, threatening to roast anyone who tries to hurt them. This baby is now the most important thing in the world to him. God help anyone who comes between them.

#Crash Bandicoot #Headcanon #babies #ripper roo #koala kong #pinstripe potoroo #komodo joe #komodo moe #tiny tiger #dingodile #i feel like this could be been better and cuter but i did my best i swear

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metalgearkong · 5 years

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The Mandalorian - Season 1 - Review

12/30/19 **Spoilers

Created by Jon Favreau & Dave Filoney

It’s a miracle that someone finally come up with something in the Star Wars universe of which fans are unanimously happy with. The Mandalorian is easily the best live-action Star Wars content since Return of the Jedi, and is some of the best Star Wars in any medium since the original trilogy concluded. This is a reasonably low budget and smaller Star Wars tale that draws inspiration from old Samurai and Western films, the very thing that inspired George Lucas to create his vision in the first place. The Mandalorian is deliberately paced, and has a focus on character over having a big entangling bombastic story.

One of my favorite features is how grounded, dirty, and inelegant the show is within its own world. The Mandalorian himself, “Mando,” (Pedro Pascal) is far from a super human with flawless skills and incredible perfection. While he clearly has experience with blasters, gadgets, and hand-to-hand combat, virtually every action scene he’s in comes off as a real guy just doing the best he can. He almost always needs help from a side character, and survives by the skin of his teeth, with only a handful of standout moments when you see him in full control of his environment and enemies. It helped make the entire show feel relatible, realistic, and dramatic.

The Mandalorian takes place a few years after Return of the Jedi and the collapse of the Galactic Empire. Jedi are still a thing of misinformation and myth. The galaxy has become a wild west, and the Force isn’t even a concept most people know about. Although I do find it odd that Mandalorians wouldn’t have some knowledge of the Force or Jedi as the two factions have quite the history together over the past thousand years. It’s a nit pick but it gives the Jedi an heir of mystery and sorcery once again. It also contributes to the low key nature of this show where magic and spectacle are nearly non-existent. The Mandalorian doesn’t seem as concerned with bringing in huge masses of audiences, although it does draw in multiple demographics, more on that later. It’s a huge relief that something in Star Wars can feel so adult and be taken seriously, and it gives me a lot of hope for the future.

The Empire itself in The Mandalorian are resigned to an underground organization, with its only high profile leader seeming to be Grand Moff Gideon (possibly operating completely independently) played by Giancarlo Esposito. They still have their share of soldiers, vehicles, and weapons ordinance, but this is no longer a galaxy ruled or patrolled heavily by the “Imps.” One of my favorite things about this show is that we get a ton of stormtroopers and scout troopers as guys in dirty armor, which are unmodified from how they look in the original trilogy. I’ve been so sick of the fake CGI that brought clone troopers and battle droids to life in the movies and other shows. Some scenes give troopers a lot of humanity and personality as well. However the show perpetuates my issue with Star Wars as a whole where rank-and-file enemy troops prove to be little or no consequence as they can’t hit anything they shoot--and die themselves in one hit. I want stormtroopers one day to actually mean something and pose a threat to a protagonist.

The true star, however, happens to be the “Child,” the most brilliant creation of the show. Most of The Mandalorian is about a lone warrior shooting guns and fighting through dangerous situations, but the Child brings in entire audiences that may not have been interested in this very macho kind of show to begin with. The best part is, he’s a natural addition to the story and lore. The Child isn’t just an adorable shoe-in to give women and kids something to go “aaaw” at. The Child is an infant member of Yoda’s race, a race the creators intentionally never gave any detail on ever in Star Wars history. It sparks tons of intrigue as to where the race is from, how it develops, and its natural strong connection to the Force. It’s one of the greatest mysteries of the show and aside from the Child’s cute antics, it kept me hooked.

Mando himself is your typical stoic gunslinger type who makes his living on bounty hunting. While he doesn’t have much uniqueness at first, you slowly learn more about him and the Mandalorian clan he is part of. Pedro Pascal gives a great physical performance, as his face is hidden by the helmet he is sworn never to take off in front of another living thing. The Mandalorians themselves seem to be a creed of people who were once regarded as great warriors, but are now nearly extinct. It’s yet another mystery to the show that I crave to learn more and more about. The heart and soul of this show is truly the relationship between the Child and Mando, two people who couldn’t be more opposite, and I think the memes infecting the entire internet speak for themselves.

We run into a lot of great side characters as well, usually one stand out per episode. These sidekicks are usually played by famous comedians or actors, and it was a fun game of “who’s that” every week it came on. These people Mando comes across are usually former solders or people who fall into the Chaotic Neutral category of washed up past their prime. The best of these is IG-11, the same model as IG-88 briefly seen in Empire Strikes Back and several Legends material. We finally get to see this kind of droid in action and why it’s so great. IG-11 is brought to life by excellent CGI, and what I’m guessing is a lot of robotic work as well. He’s voiced by none other than Taika Waititi and he gives a hilarious and poignant personality to the hunter droid.

My other favorites include Carl Weathers as a bounty hunting guild leader, Nick Nolte as a lonely but helpful Ugnaught engineer, and Gina Carano as Cara Dune, a former Rebel shock trooper. Each of these characters are contrasted to Mando’s. He gets help one way or another from these people, and it helps flesh out his character seeing how he reacts to what they do and say. Mando goes through a great but subtle arch throughout the show, as we see him go from what appears to be a cold blooded killer, to someone who cares again about the people around him. Again, it’s nothing new or original, but it’s executed very well. The side characters aren’t just celebrities of the week either. Many of them come back in later episodes to help Mando and the Child, and I hope they continue to appear in future seasons.

Not only does The Mandalorian pay excellent homage to the original trilogy, but also combines elements from both the prequel and sequel trilogies as well. Small things like technology and droids (mostly background elements) help solidify the entire Star Wars canon in very subtle and realistic ways. It’s a great transitional time in the universe between the Empire and the First Order, and I can’t wait to see how this show continues to exist and influence the world its in. The only weakness I could say is that many of the episodes don’t go through a lot of change in terms of plot, and are more excuses for character introductions and character development. The show is so well executed, however, this isn’t a huge problem because nearly every minute has something to appreciate and enjoy. I love the mature tone and pace, and hope that never changes.

The Mandalorian may be a sign that Star Wars should transform itself to being small scaled. It seems like just about everything that can be done with the Jedi has been done, and I don’t know how you can throw more twists into Force using and blowing up giant super weapons. The Mandalorian was created with so much love and care, I want all Star Wars content to follow this same philosophy. Forget the big movies with huge lineages and chosen one prophecies, I want to take a fine toothed comb to the underbelly of the Star Wars universe. Keep it character focused, keep it low key. I can’t wait to see what future seasons of this show hold, and I pray that it maintains its quality and pace its established here.

8.5/10

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tonystarktogo · 5 years

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In celebration of my birthday *yay, I’m getting old*, here’s the second part of An Unwise Murder (An Inconvenient Survival). It’s only half of the chapter, but once I’ve finished it (which will hopefully be tonight although no promises cause I’m spending a lot of time with my family today) I’ll post the full version on AO3 as well.

Part II

Tony pours himself a glass of lukewarm coca cola on autopilot. It tastes disgusting, but that doesn’t stop him from swallowing it all down in one go. He should probably put the glass down afterwards, except that’s easier said than done when his hands clutch the fragile cup so hard, his fingers ache. Still better than watching them shake and tremble though.

Maybe it’s a remnant of being raised as the heir of the leading company in one of the most cutthroat industries. Maybe it’s just a byproduct of being the son of Maria Carbonell. Either way, Tony has learned the value of good pokerface early in life. It’s going to take more than some stranger appearing out of nowhere with ominous declarations to shake his composure. Particularly considering Mystery Guy has the guts to introduce himself as James.

James. Of all the fake names he could have picked, seriously. The least he could’ve done is put a bit of effort into the pretense. Tony wants to snort, make a stupid James Bond quip, except—

Steve is dead.

Tony doesn’t know what to do with that information. His mind is racing into five different directions at breakneck speed and simultaneously shies away from the terrible, inevitable conclusion that rests at the center of it all. The implications of what Wannabe-Bond [who, by the way, is glowering suspiciously at Tony from where he’s leaning against the wall on the other side of the kitchen, the best vantage point to keep an eye on all windows and the door, and is apparently incapable of understanding why Tony might need a goddamn minute] has oh so casually announced — and, more tellingly, what he hasn’t said — are staggering.

"Want some?" Tony gestures jerkily towards the open bottle of coca cola. Never let it be said that his mother didn’t drill some basic manners into him, whether the situation calls for it or not.

00-Copy-Cat shakes his head, which suits Tony just fine. He’s not in the mood to share.

Officially, Tony barely knows Steve Rogers. [And fuck, it’s knew now, isn’t it, no, no, don’t think about it—] They ran into each other twice, once accidentally, once on purpose. Both times they spent more time arguing than agreeing on things. Both times left Tony feeling raw and tired, a little bit like he’d just barely escaped a violent death.

Officially. Such a nice, convenient, little word, isn’t it? The grounds you can cover with that kind of safety blanket are truly astonishing.

Tony takes a sip from his drink, is reminded that the glass is already empty, and promptly grabs the whole bottle instead. Lukewarm cola is disgusting, but it’s still sugar and caffeine — the magical combination, in this case. Tony has no illusions about his odd visitor: He’s going to need all the energy he can get if he wants to make it through the next forty-eight hours intact. That he’s got what is quite possibly a real-life assassin watching over his shoulder, screaming murderous aggression from his every pore, is doing wonders for Tony’s ability to stay calm and focused.

Not.

Anyone asks about me, don’t trust them. Anyone searches for me, lie. Don’t say anything, don’t admit anything, don’t imply anything. If they don’t think you useless, they’ll convince themselves you’re a threat. Do you understand? Steve’s voice whispers into his ear, low and serious and so irritatingly commanding that Tony wants to turn around and punch him in his stupid, white teeth.

But since he’s currently in the company of a more volatile version of Steve — something Tony didn’t know was possible — who looks like he might eat aspiring serial killers for breakfast, that’s probably not his best idea.

“Alright,” Tony says eventually, mostly to himself. “Steve’s dead. Shit happens.” Move on and adapt, is what is father used to tell him. These circumstances probably aren’t what the old man had in mind, but Tony has underestimated Howard before. The man has his fingers in a lot of pies, some of which the general public doesn’t even know the existence of. If Tony was three years younger and two times more paranoid, he’d suspect this to be another attempt by dear old dad to show him "the error of his way". Although not even Howard Stark would kill off Steve Rogers just to prove a point.

Probably.

Tony turns around and looks Wannabe-Bond straight in the eyes. [He’s lied to Maria Stark’s face, okay. This is nothing.] They’re a very pretty shade of blue, there’s no denying that. That doesn’t change the fact that it would really suck if those eyes were the last thing Tony ever sees though. He’s too young to die. He’s got things to do, people to annoy. Not to mention Pepper would murder him if he got himself killed before the whole mess with his inheritance is sorted out.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here." As far as questions go, it’s an implied, roundabout way of asking. The kind that raises Tony’s hackles — as well as the spiteful child inside him — and makes him snipe back viciously in response. Despite that Tony can’t bring himself to ask the far more direct 'Why are you here?' out loud.

It helps that he really, really doesn’t want to know.

Wannabe-Bond stares at Tony with a blank expression that gives nothing away. It’s creepy as fuck, Tony’s not gonna lie. Like staring at a lifelike puppet and half-expecting it to start moving any moment now, even though you know damn well it shouldn’t.

Double-0-Leather takes a measured step towards him. Then another. “How much do you know about Steve?” he asks in that gravely voice that makes Tony want to lecture him on the dangers of smoking. Totally not helpful right now, but it’s always good to know that, despite all evidence to the contrary, Tony has been listening to Pepper’s lectures.

Not that he actually lectures Mister Tall, Dark and Murderous. Tony has some sense of self-preservation, thank you very much.

“I know seven different Steves. You’re gonna have to be more specific."

Alright, maybe not that much. In all fairness though, everyone who knows Tony knows he doesn't handle fear well. He just doesn’t. His fight or flight response is broken beyond repair — or so Rhodey likes to mutter under his breath when he pretends to be the reasonable adult he definitely isn’t and Tony has done something Improbably Stupid™ again — and it’s moments like these when it shows.

To his surprise, Wannabe-Bond snorts. It might have been a trick of light, but Tony could’ve sworn he sees the beginnings of a grin there for a second. Huh. Are assassins allowed to have a sense of humor?

“Fun as this might be-” Wannabe-Bond takes a hold of both of Tony’s shoulders, looming straight into his face now, and, nope, Tony doesn’t like that at all, he’s fond of his personal space, okay, this totally isn’t cool because he’s made Steve a promise and Tony keeps his damn promises — no matter what stupid, self-righteous Steve might think — and Tony really isn’t sure how well he’s going to hold up under torture, that is so not his specialty.

“Are you even listening?” the Man in Black snaps suddenly, in the middle of what is undoubtedly a lengthy, well-delivered threat. It’s the impatience in his tone more than the words themselves that jerk Tony out of his internal rambling.

“Not really?” he blurts out, then immediately regrets it when Double-0-Lame-o’s expression darkens even more.

“Listen carefully!” the guy grinds out between his teeth with the barely restrained violence of a panther on the prowl. "I don’t have the time or patience to play nice right now. This isn’t the time for games. Because I’m not Steve and no one’s gonna look twice if some mouthy civvie disappears." Tony does not shrink into himself — he’s been trained better than that, and it’s not true anyways, Pepper and Rhodey would raise hell in the wake of his disappearance— but, damn it, he really, really wants to.

“We’re compromised," Agent McGrizzly continues with glacial calm. "Someone from the inside betrayed Steve. And you’re going to find the rat. I don’t care how, you’re gonna get it done or I’m gonna use you as a demonstration for what will happen to them when I catch them, got it?”

Tony swallows. Wannabe-Bond hasn’t raised his voice even once. Has spoken barely louder than a heated whisper. Somehow that makes him all the more terrifying.

“And how exactly—” Tony croaks, immediately clears his throat and continues without pause, "How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

Because even when he ignores every command Steve has given him — and there’s a certain delight in that knowledge, not gonna lie — even if he believes this stranger with a handsome face and murder instead of tears in his eyes, even if he wanted to — which he doesn’t because Tony Stark doesn’t help people out of the goodness of his cold, black heart — that still leaves him with a grieving madman sprouting conspiracy theories and nothing else to go on.

Tony expects many things in response to his very legitimate question. The USB stick Suit-Without-The-Suit throws at his face isn’t among them. Luckily, he’s got fast reflexes. Evading DUM-E’s claws whenever he’s trying to help because he’s fallen in love with yet another car is one hell of a training exercise.

The stick is unremarkable in all the ways that matter. A black, plastic casing. Nothing to see there, it screams at anyone who might care to listen. Tony stares at the small, outdated piece of technology in the palm of his hand for a long moment. Then, slowly, like a cat stretching before its next nap, he smiles.

"You should’ve led with that."

Sleep is for the weak anyways.

(tbc)

#ReRe writes #WinterIron #Tony Stark #Bucky Barnes #Secret Agent Bucky #Secret Agent Steve #Mechanic Tony #Hacker Tony #That AU I should've finished six months ago but didn't #An Unwise Murder (An Inconvenient Survival)#fic #wip #MCU #AU #James Bond AU #Tony loves his nicknames #I put a lot of effort into those to keep them from getting too repetitive so appreciate them

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gofancyninjaworld · 5 years

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Thoughts on One-Punch Man Season 2: But what about the story?

Second part: So much for the structure, what was the effect?

Just before the second season started, I posted about what I hoped I’d see, assuming it ended where it did. Let’s see how they did.

Yup, I keep cutting the words, but the bastards keep multiplying

The Story Itself

What I’d hoped for:

There’s a lot less of the monster of the week situation, this series. I love the care with which the Monster Association goes about attacking. What looked like random stuff (egregiously stretched out by the tournament), will come together to be a coherent and potent threat that will leave us viewers desperate to find out how the Hero Association replies.

[…]

And at the end of this season, even though we’ve had a very interesting time of it, none of it will be over. The stakes will have been delineated, the battle lines drawn and I really hope that J.C. Staff does enough to make it clear why we should care enough to come back for season 3 whenever it airs.

What we got:

No question about it, there’s a Monster Association and it’s pretty serious. We got their ultimatum to the Hero Association and there’s no question that they’re taking it seriously. The problem comes with the overall lack of energy and urgency in the treatment of the plot. We’re missing bodies, broken buildings, landed punches, follow through, all the things that sell that sense of urgency, of a situation that’s threatening to spin out of all control. Which is a pity, because then we don’t get the sense of relief once the monsters disappear, only to be replaced with foreboding as the Monster Association makes its demands.

They really can’t use time as an excuse for that. It was really bad scripting with a tendency to soft-soap all impacts by panning away at critical moments. It’s a real shame when episode 7 (19) is named ‘Class S Heroes’ – the heavy cavalry whom should turn the tides of battle – and we see very little of how they work. The rare times they have followed through with blows, the entire mood of the episode changes for the better.

It’s interesting that when chapter 84 was released, it felt like an excellent season finale. And it could have been, but for the lack of a build up in tension and urgency that should have been sustained all season long. So many missed opportunities – like little scenes of Atomic Samurai going in person to Bang’s dojo only to find it locked, more scenes of Bang hunting increasingly desperately for Garou, a running tally of heroes struck down by Garou adding pressure to his search… all sorts of things the manga has left wide open to be added to that would have created continuity and tension against the backdrop of a crisis that really, really needs the help of *every* hero.

Special note: Can I just say that Phoenixman is awesome in his garishness? He looks like a children’s show mascot put together by people on the last day of a ten-day bender. Guaranteed to give children nightmares. I love him.

Don’t believe the monster, kids

The Characters

Charanko: I wasn’t expecting anything of him, so honourable mention to him. I absolutely love the small but important addition J.C. Staff made to his story, whereby he came across Garou, heard and saw all the heroes the latter was beating up, and, despite his fear and knowledge of his weakness, went forward anyway. Fantastic!

Death Gatling: I’d been afraid that they’d undersell him. He wasn’t and I was very, very happy to see that. He’s ever inch as serious, tactically astute, and legitimately charismatic as he needs to be. They could have made Flashy Flash slightly more obnoxious to bring across the extent to which he felt slighted but that’s minor.

Looking at how fans took him, I’ve been a bit disappointed in the number of fans who don’t get that he’s far from wrong both in seeking recognition (although he did pick the wrong target to make an example of), and for not believing Garou, but that’s not a critique of the way he’s been presented. The thorny issue of recognition is something I’ve been mooting a meta on, but another day!

Garou: What I’d hoped for

I want to see the story of how Garou grows from a malcontent and apparent crazy to this juggernaut whose appointment with destiny cannot be stopped.

What we got:

I’d say this was fulfilled! His luck and unstoppable destiny come across well. I really like his relationship with Tareo and with Bang being expanded on.

Fans definitely have taken Garou to heart with very few people neutral on him. I appreciate the fans who correctly point out that he’s incoherent and hurting heroes who have done nothing to him on account of the childhood trauma he’s projecting onto them. Like him or not, he’s definitely been given the space he needed and it’s going to be very interesting to see how people change their views of him as the anime continues.

King: What I’d hoped for

I want to see King be exposed as a fraud and a coward who runs from danger and leaves people to die, then redeem himself as a decent human being and become the fraud and coward who stands before danger so people might live. That’s huge – he’s been running like a rabbit for years.

What we got:

Fulfilled. I love how his relationship with Saitama unfolded, pretty much note perfect. The scene of his wiling himself to courage is great; it and the flashback JC Staff added linked back to to where he started out quite nicely.

Who doesn’t love King? I suspect he arm-wrestled Mumen Rider for fan favourite, particularly as he’s so very ordinary a man in a world of demi-gods.

Saitama: What I’d hoped for

We see Saitama finally make a friend, get resolution as to why the world ignores him, and get to celebrate his progress, even as we learn how deep his sense of alienation goes. I love how it’s going to start with Saitama walking away from his disciple and end with Saitama running for his disciple and how nothing else mattered until he saw him safe and well.

What we got:

Mostly fulfilled. His stasis and ongoing dissatisfaction with life come across excellently. His feeling ever more irrelevant and removed from the flow of life is literally and metaphorically on show, even as we get to witness the life-changing impact of his punches on others.

Folk missed Saitama sorely, which is as it should be. JCStaff, bless their lily-livers, really did miss a trick in not having Elder Centipede continue disintegrating for several seconds – after having been parched for Saitama, that ludicrous scene really helped.

Genos (why always you, my friend?): What I’d hoped for

Last series, we saw Genos try and lose, try and lose, try and lose, try and lose yet again. This season, from the very first episode to the very last, we watch that process of change from a failing hero to a truly fearsome one fit to rub shoulders with the best of heroes. I want to see how it thrills us, entertains us, breaks our hearts and maybe we dare to hope for even crazier heights in the future.

What we got:

Hm. Let me paraphrase Dr Bofoi here: ‘It takes a special sort of stupidity to mess up this badly’. This is worth unpacking a bit as when things go wrong, we often get a better opportunity to see what makes them work. And I’m always interested in what makes communicating ideas effective.

For once, let’s start with fan reactions. The actions Genos takes on the screen are pretty much the same as in the manga (a little abridged in places, but more or less the same). After manga chapter 84, you got reactions like this: ‘ Genos from now on to me will no longer be a joke. He’s earned my respect.’ ‘…if he still had a human body, he’d have broken his limiter by now…’, ‘he really stepped up’, etc. After episode 12: it’s ‘oh, everyone can beat Genos’ 'he’s like a princess in distress’ 'he’s lucky that Garou wasn’t at full health’… ‘…that man has felt useless since when he first met Saitama during the mosquito fight…’

Manga readers are less scathing than anime only viewers, but they have the benefit of the manga and aren’t reacting to what’s actually presented on screen. Where the anime has made the case for Genos being awesome, as it did in episode 11 (23), fan reactions followed appropriately.

Interesting. How the hell did JC Staff create the diametric opposite reaction of the one Murata and ONE had elicited? Particularly when they made a decent fist of the other characters?

From the beginning, I’d worried most about Genos – the clumsy, lifeless sequences we saw of him in the PV inspired no confidence. With Genos both opening and closing out the season, they really needed to get him right to set the correct tone and leave the right taste in the audiences’ mouths. JCStaff have struggled most with his portrayal, both in visuals and action, although it came together nicely in episode 11 (23). Mostly, it’s Ishikawa’s sterling voice acting that has carried the character all season.

And then they silenced Ishikawa. A mix of stupid-lazy-desperate-for-time meant that for the last episode, they cut out all of Genos’s POV regarding how uneasy he still felt about the monstrous presence he couldn’t pin down, his shrewdly wondering how to find their headquarters, his initial assessment of the Elder Centipede and even how very carefully he thought before deciding to take action. They thought his amazing actions could speak for themselves. They were wrong.

It’s like having Garou act without benefit of flashbacks and assuming his actions will speak for themselves. They don’t! Without the benefit of our knowledge of his motivations and thoughts, he really is just a thug launching unprovoked attacks on heroes.

Instead of us seeing and understanding that Genos had learned, was thinking carefully on all he’d been told and the drastic action he took was because he’d weighed up the options and realised only someone sacrificing his life would save the others, we got the opposite. So what they created instead was a guy who wouldn’t listen to repeated good advice, took on a too-strong enemy and got his butt kicked. Again. And if there’s anything fans rightly hate, it’s a fool who won’t learn. As I pointed out earlier, Genos opened and closed the season – so the impression that nothing had changed really took a lot of any climactic feel out of the episode.

The title of the final episode didn’t help either. Instead of translating it as ‘taking responsibility for one’s disciple’ which would apply with equal force to both Bang trying to bring Garou to heel and to Saitama, rushing in to deal with a situation Genos couldn’t deal with, Crunchyroll went with the near-literal ‘cleaning up the disciple’s mess’ and Hulu with the literal ‘wiping the disciple’s butt’. Both of which set the viewer to see whatever Genos did as a mistake. Even though, ironically, he didn’t make any this episode. It’s a translation klutz like finding out that someone has translated the English idiom ‘catching Peter’s eye’ as ‘gouging out Peter’s eye’ instead of ‘being noticed by Peter’ (no Peters were harmed in the making of this sentence). That is out of JCStaff’s hands, but I hope that whoever does the DVD/Blu Ray has a better set of translators available.

Ah, it’s not worthwhile grousing. It’s not like they had the time to watch the finished episode back and consider the story they were actually telling. I don’t envy whoever takes up season 3. They have a lot of extra work to do to change viewers’ impression of the character and the source material isn’t going to help them. It's going to br difficult to explain why, when faced with a fool who won't listen to him and appears intent on self-destruction, Dr Kuseno would hand Genos an outfit that needs the most careful judgement to use with any degree of safety. For manga readers, it makes sense. For anime watchers some heavy duty retconning will be necessary.

While ONE cried tears of joy after reading Chapter 84, if he’s crying any tears after this season, they won’t be happy ones.

#opm #anime #season 2 #review #characters #story #please DON'T come back JCStaff #they didn't entirely suck #but they sucked too much to be entrusted with more #dodgy visuals can be redrawn #ropey sound can be remastered #but missing the point of major characters argh #that and poor scripting throughout

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leviosarpg · 5 years

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Congratulations, GRACIE! You have been accepted for the role of VENUS ROWLE! Gracie, this app was p h e n o m e n a l. Venus is a character that’s rather hard to capture, simply because I think it’s so easy to veer away from her dark side, but you charged straight ahead and managed to illuminate the cruel ugliness of Venus so perfectly, my stomach is still churning from the sample app (in the best possible way). “The world won’t be kind to girls like me, why shouldn’t I treat it the same?” Gracie, this line was utter perfection and somehow manages to sum up Venus’s character flawlessly, explain her motivations, and provide such a wonderful insight into her mind. Venus is a taker, but more importantly, she’s someone with the ability to take what she wants, something this app highlighted effortlessly. I can’t wait to have Leviosa’s diamond on the dash!

Your faceclaim change to: Eliza Scanlen has been accepted. Don’t forget to send in your account to the main and complete the items listed on the CHECKLIST!

THE PLAYER

name/age/pronouns/timezone: Gracie/24/she her/ est

THE CHARACTER

desired role: Venus Rowle- I love the poisonous princess, the girl who is not in danger; but is the danger. Sickly sweet honey words laced with venom, smiled sharp enough to cut. The little girl who got everything she could possibly want, but took more. She’s coming for the crown, she’s coming for things she doesn’t even want - just because she doesn’t want someone else to have it.

gender/pronouns: cisfemale, she/her

extracurriculars: the harbingers, the slug club

para sample: (tw dubious con - kinda, tw self harm, tw underage? ) not exactly sure how to tag it but better safe than sorry!

He was seventeen, she was fifteen. All golden curls and a high babied voice, Venus Rowle never learned the word no. He was some minor pureblood heir, a Crabbe or some other. But he was beautiful, and she loved the way it felt to have his eyes follow her through the halls. Her friends noticed, and asked her in somewhat awed whispers in the back of charms.

“I am sure I don’t know what you mean.” Her eyes flashed more blue than green, and her smile was triumphant, barely concealed behind a modesty they all knew she didn’t have.

At her father’s Yuletide Party, Venus ignored him outright, dancing with nearly everyone else but him. His eyes never left her twirling golden figure, and she felt the jealousy burning in his gaze, reveling in this as if he were worshipping at her feet like the goddess of her namesake. Venus always knew how to play the game, had felt the heated gaze of men ever since she was 12 and she’d left her sister and childish shape for the curves of a woman. They liked the chase she learned. She learned to laugh and toss her head back joyously, how to place a delicate hand on her cheek, to absentmindedly play with a curl and draw their eyes to her neck like. She could fake demure and purity and goodness and all those other things men think they want.

And so, when she sensed the Crabbe heir was about to admit defeat, she caught his eye, smiled softly, and quickly looked away with a slight flush rising to her cheeks. He followed her into the library like she knew he would, a lovesick puppy leaning in to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. She resisted at first, the way they always wanted young girls to, but gave in to his kisses eventually. Men liked to think they were in charge, that they were the hunter and Venus was the doe eyed prey, quivering in his crosshairs. Men were easy.

After she let him worship the porcelain curves of her body, he buttoned up the back of her velvet dress, kissing her neck and whispering that one word they all wanted to hear. Love. She smiled with venom, and sent him back to the party first while she adjusted her hair in the mirror. Venus felt empty, unsatisfied. The next three nights of the holiday celebration, she ignored him outright. She was so easily bored, and he’d proved to be nothing more interesting than a pretty face and practiced lips.

He told her he’d ask his father for her hand, and she laughed.

On New Years Eve, he no longer followed her with those desperate puppy dog eyes. She saw him across the ballroom, whispering now in the ear of some much plainer girl, Venus thought unkindly. Her eyes flashed red. She didn’t want him, the idea of marriage was laughable to someone so young and burning. But she certainly didn’t want to be so easily replaced. Venus Rowle was the end all be all, not someone you got over in a matter of weeks.

On New Years Day she walked sobbing into her father study, peeling up a long sleeve to show a ring of purple bruises around one delicate wrist. A sleepless night spent in dedication to her plot added to her overall look of fear and shame. She said no, Venus told her parents in between tears, and he’d been so angry she would not go off with him alone and she’d told him and told him it was inappropriate but he gripped her wrist tighter and tighter almost pulling her away from the party so that she had to wrench herself from his grasp to remain pure. She’d found the bruises that morning, she sniffed for effect, and had been so ashamed and not wanted to bring harm to the family name but so afraid. Her mother stroked her hair to quiet the sobs, and, after delicately confirming her virtue was still intact, her father grabbed his cloak and stormed out the front door.

The Crabbe boy was quickly and quietly sent to America, his father bowing to the weight and power of the Rowle name. No one outside of her family ever knew, and he suffered with the unearned reputation of a brute. He wrote to her once, and she set it on fire without even reading it.

Venus might have been named for the goddess of love, but the Latin root should never be forgotten. Venenum, or rather, poison.

OTHERS & EXTRA (OPTIONAL)

May I pretty please change her face to Eliza Scanlen? Thank you!

Venus sometimes resents her sister, particularly on their birthday, a time she feels should be only dedicated to her. She was thrilled when they were sorted into different houses - the sorting ceremony the only time Diana has ever come first, D before V alphabetically.

Diana is too soft, this world will eat her alive, Venus fears. She cannot hide behind books forever, and Venus justifies her cruelty through love. Someone has to toughen up the younger Rowle, why not her own twin, someone who wouldn’t truly hurt her.

Venus has never been as clever as her sister, her marks always lower but really she had never cared that much. Did it matter what one knew of goblin rebellions or how many runes one could translate?

Her magic is surprisingly powerful, though her knowledge is limited. It comes from the violence in her blood, the fire burning in the hollow place in her chest that should hold a heart.

She is utterly cruel, a true Mean Girl, but with the charm and grace of her breeding and blood status. Words like poison laced barbs wrapped in velvet. She can tell you to go fuck yourself in a way that will make you truly want to.

She has almost no real friends, having begun to lose the girls of her childhood to competition or some sort of morality. She sometimes fears that if she truly needed someone, no one would answer the call. In these moments she reaches out to her sister, bothering her in the library and laying her golden head on Diana’s shoulder until she promises to always love Venus.

She isn’t sure when she first noticed Silvanus, likely when she caught the lovesick glint in her sister’s eyes. Venus has never been one to share and has always wanted what others have. He was beautiful and seemed almost kind. He’d be quite fun to ruin, she thinks.

Diary entries - I am obviously willing and happy to change all of the below especially with regards to other characters! Just some early thoughts

January 23

I was in the library last night copying Diana’s History of Magic essay - bored out of my mind. I have no desire to read or write anymore about goblin rebellions or giant wars or any other horrible creature who has been a threat to wizard kind. Sometimes I think we all might be better off if they were simply gone. But that is not a thing one says out loud, and so I will whisper it to you my dearest pages.

Anyway, I was bemoaning to myself the waste of time it is to read about things others have done instead of doing them myself when Riddle & Lestrange came over to sit at my table. Always a pleasant interruption, although I confess any sort of interruption was highly welcome, I had seen the two of them glancing over from across the room. I know how to attract attention, it is as natural as breathing. They came sooner than I’d thought - I am getting quite good.

They are beautiful boys, both tall and dark and brooding. Exactly the type of boy who my mother would say was up to no good. But Lestrange has the name and family wealth, and Riddle - well no one really knows all that much about him but he is brilliant, perhaps the most talented I have ever seen. And his charisma could charm even my overprotective and suspicious parents.

But, my dear friend, they were not interested in any sort of fun distractions. No - they had a proposal (no not that kind either - as if). Grindelwald, they say, wouldn’t dare come to England. They say he’s afraid of Dumbledore. But his ideas need a place to cultivate and take root here, so why not Hogwarts? I raised one eyebrow, perfectly poised on the line between disinterested and inviting. And so they said more. Riddle had ideas, plans to expand and go further. We were the next generation of leaders, were we not? Those not bogged down in the mess made from Grindelwald and the muggles and the destruction of everything good in the world. We should lead wizarding kind into the new world.

And, I’ll confess, I was terribly interested. The path my parents have painted for Diana & I seems dreadfully boring - marry some man and lose myself and my name to him, lose my body and my beauty to his children, become so consumed with the lives of messy tiny humans and give and give until who I am - Venus Manon Rowle - no longer exists. I will not be some empty shell belonging entirely to others. They spoke of power and change, and I held on to my air of aloofness as long as I could. But it was too perfect, and I gave over to the glamour of his vision quickly. They need my name and my charm, and (it was quite amusing to watch Lestrange struggle to find a tactful way to say so) my bite. I know I can be quite cruel, Diana has been more than happy to point it out to me. But being kind is boring, soft is weakness. The world won’t be kind to girls like me, why shouldn’t I treat it the same?

We stayed for another hour until the library matron threatened to call the caretaker or tell Slug we were out of bed after hours. But the plans and dreams continued in the common room late into the night. Lestrange is driven and controlling, Riddle has a charm and vision - they both match me in the ability to easily draw people in. Although, I might be a bit ahead of them in that case, having the name Riddle does not and being a fair bit more attractive than Lestrange. Most importantly - it is not just talk. You know how talk without action drives me mad. No, there are plans, and some have even already been enacted. Now I couldn’t possibly tell you the details even if I wanted to, having been sworn to secrecy, but Riddle himself has directly acted.

It was such a glorious night that I even woke up burning despite how little sleep I had gotten. I will tell you more later, I have to finish that stupid essay.

Love - V

PS. How terrible would it be for me to just accidentally forget to give Diana’s hers back and turn it in with my name instead? Binns would hardly notice. And Dee always forgives me.

June 22

Remember when I told you a few months ago that Freya was acting strangely? It has only gotten worse. I am practically seething with rage. Last night was daddy’s summer solstice gala, and Freya didn’t even say hello to me when she arrived. I was willing to look it over because she was with her family. But even later when she came around to speak with Giselle and I, something was off. I know how to read people, and I grew up with this girl - I know her every tick and every expression almost as much as I know my own sister’s. She is hiding something and I must find out what it is.

I tried to ask Giselle if she noticed anything wrong, but she seemed preoccupied as well. Am I the only one who knows how to have any fun? Giselle I am less worried about. She has always tried to compete with me, and it is healthy and natural for competition to develop between girls like us. She makes me sharper and I force her to rise up to my level. It is good for both of us I think, as long as I am always on top. Besides, I know her secrets and she knows enough of mine. I do love her dearly, but I would not hesitate to destroy her if necessary.

Mother says they are all jealous of me, but it has to be more than that - especially with Freya. I feared secretly from the moment she was sorted away from us all those years ago that we might lose her. I have made an effort, I constantly seek to include her in everything. And yet still, she is pulling away. Perhaps I will have to come up with some creative way to get her to confess what she is hiding.

And now, dear diary, please allow me a moment of weakness, a moment of insecurity. What if I lose them? And what if I never really had them to begin with? Sometimes I fear that they don’t actually love me, they might love the opportunities I can give them with my name. Or maybe they are afraid of me and play nice so they don’t end up on my bad side. Am I unlovable? Oh no Venus, you say, everyone loves you - look how many admires you have, how you can catch the attention of everyone in a room. No - they love who they think I am, the pretty mask I put on to hide the fact that I am all sharp edges and hot rage. But still, I would rather be loved and noticed for something, rather than hiding in the corners. Alright - I am done acting weak now.

Speaking of corners, I suppose I will always have my dear sweet Diana. My second, my shadow, my sister, my twin. She resists the type of criticism and growth I try and teach her, but she must take some of it in stride. I don’t much like sharing the spotlight, so I am happy that she is so reserved. Still, it would be good for Di to have some actual fun for one. To leave the library and step out from behind her books. I love her, dearly, and I only want the best for her. I confess, I may not be the best at showing her exactly how much she means to me. We are cruel to each other in the way only sisters can be, but I do believe she would die for me. And I know I would kill for her.

I will stop filling you with my melancholia now - V

#hp rp #hp rpg #lsrpg #literate rp #literate rpg #accepted #venus

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wordscanburnarchive · 5 years

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@oliverqxeen – because we love pain .

the petite blonde laughs at the words of the acquaintance before her , shaking her head slightly as she brings her coffee to her lips . thumb dragging lightly against the plastic of cup as she allows her gaze to s t r a y . her eyes search through the spread of people attending the street festival , ranging from their corded off VIP area to the more congested crowd several yards away . she supposed there were p e r k s to being an important person to a V I P . in addition , it was a perk for someone who’d helped plan it . after all , star city could use some more fun at the cusp of summer and fall . and what was better than a street festival with food , live music , and booths selling everything ranging from handmade bracelets to spa packages to cardboard cutouts of your favorite celebrities . she wraps her other hand around her cup , a finger subconsiously t r a c i n g over the wedding band on her left hand , the smile on her lips on g r o w i n g slightly . until her eyes finally meet the gaze of who she was looking for . her blue eyes shine and her smile widens , teeth bared before she turns back to the woman before her to easily brush her off before turning away . she raises her coffee to her lips to take a final sip from the straw before tossing it into a trash can as she steps off the sidewalk onto the street .

peyton’s smile doesn’t waver as she meets the eyes of her husband again , raising a brow slightly in s i l e n t question as she glances between him and the over-dressed older couple he’d been cornered by . even in the early stages of their relationship , when neither of them were interested in even calling it as such , peyton had been skilled at getting him out of UNWANTED conversations . and as they went from lovers to to more , they’d developed a system . a way for oliver to let her know when HE needed to be rescued for a change . but with the wink in her direction before the mayoral smile was turned back to the couple before him , she knew that he didn’t an excuse to walk away just yet . so as she approaches him she simply a p o l og i z e s for interrupting as she loops her arm through his , and e n t w i n i n g their fingers together as she settles herself against his side . she leans her head against his arm shoulder and allows her attention to drift .

it had been been merely a few m o n t h s since they’d tied the knot . since she’d retired her father’s name to become a queen . a few months since she’d made the leap she’d never thought she would be capable of . she can’t help but believe this is exactly what real love is meant to be . real love is meant to help you realize what you are REALLY capable of . to help you realize your full potential , rather than just live within the bounds you put on yourself . peyton liked to think she’d pushed him as well , but she wasn’t sure who had the greatest change within . but as she t i l t s her chin up to look at him , to watch him speak , she realizes she doesn’t particularly care . because regardless of what demons they’d faced , despite the flaws they both still had . . . they were here . together . and they’d always have that . there was no doubt in her mind that they would always have that . they’d ALWAYS have each other .

that is when their day s h i f t s . her brows furrow in time with his as he checks his phone . she doesn’t need to read the text over his shoulder to know that something was wrong . but before she can ask oliver has excused them from the conversation and begun to steer them towards the office building . her lips d i p in a frown , her hand squeezing his tighter on i n s t i n c t . ‘ what’s wrong ? ’ she asks as she follows quickly at his side , allowing him to lead — that is , until they reach the glass doors for the building . she swings around him to stand in his way , her hand playing flat against his chest in attempt to catch his attention in a way her words hadn’t . ‘ HEY , i’m not going any farther until you tell me what’s happening . ’

brows r i s e slightly at his words , her frown deepening as her eyes flit briefly from his face to the crowds along the streets . but she doesn’t have a chance to reply before she’s being pulled into the building . she let’s oliver pull her to the elevator and bring her to his office , without question or complaint . not because of fear , more so out of s h o c k . out of surprise . the day had been . . . normal . and the last few months had been as NORMAL as they could be . sure , even with oliver’s efforts to keep her o u t of all things green arrow , she’d still managed to get herself into u n s a v o r y situations . found herself on the radar of some people she and oliver would both prefer didn’t know she existed . however , she’d never been truly shaken by anyone . . . until this PARTICULAR adversary .

of course , she’d never admit that . to anyone . but as her jaw tightens and she still holds oliver’s hand securely in her own in the elevator , she knows he can probably guess . because they both know the taunt was meant for not only oliver , but her as well . her name didn’t have to be mentioned for them both to know that she was at risk . just by being anywhere near this festival . and despite her knowledge of this , despite the anxiety that t o i l e d in her stomach , one feeling reigns over any of worry . anger . anger that she can’t do anything to HELP . anger that some sorry excuse of a person was able to make her feel at a l l helpless . anger at HERSELF for even letting the idea of helplessness to enter her mind .

‘ what can i do ? ’ peyton asks as their hands unclasp as the reach the floor of the mayor’s office . she follows oliver out of the elevator , keeping pace with him as he heads to his office . ‘ and don’t just tell me to stay here , because i can do more than that . let me help . ’ she says , vehemently trying to keep the d e s p e r a t i o n from her tone as they enter his office . but she doesn’t even have to wait for him to speak to know what he’ll say . she only has to look at his face . her lips twist into a scowl . while she knows the words don’t come from his lack of faith in her . it comes from wanting to keep her safe . . . and if it wasn’t for the knowledge that her being anywhere near street level would simply be a dangerous distraction for him , she would have fought . but instead , she let’s him go . her eyes falling shut as he preses a soft kiss to her forehead . a promise that he’d be b a c k . but she needs more than that .

the second he is gone , runs to his desk across the room . she swings her purse arond to rest on it , flailing around within it briefly before finding the earpiece within it . a wedding gift from john . a way to have ease some of the worry on days like today . she presses it into her ear , turning it on with a t a p of her finger . suddenly the loud chatter of voices on the line . searching for the threat . searching for the bomb . peyton slumps into the chair , pulling up a knee to hold against her chest as she listens . at the sound of oliver’s voice coming over the comms r e l a x e s her slightly , and she leans back in the chair , spinning it around to face the large wall of windows that gave her a perfect view of the festival bellow . she slides the chair forward and looks down , watching the bustle of people stories bellow . the people who have no idea what kind of danger they face , if they DON’T find the bombs .

minutes pass , the chatter continues . bombs are found and disabled , the tension rises as the timer continues to go down . but relief begins to edge into the teams tones as they find the last bomb . the relief in oliver’s tone as he disables the final bomb . and a relieved laugh passing her lips at his words directly to her . telling her she can stop eavesdropping now , everything was o k a y . and for a few blissful seconds , it was . she could see their day ending well . she could see oliver returning to her , taking her hand , and returning with her to the festival . the danger for the day averted , allowing them to relax . they could dance to the live band that was to play into the evening , and then they could return home . they could retire to their bedroom and spend the night reminding themselves how grateful they were to have won another day together . she lets her lips pull into a small smile , her eyes still shut . but then the BOOM rattles the building , rattles the ground , rattles her world . and the comms go dead .

blue eyes shoot open and she launches herself out of the chair and against the window , her eyes wide as she looks down to the ground . or what she can still see through the rising cloud of smoke and dust . she barely has the capacity to react to it before she finds herself sprinting out of the office . she's down the hall , then to the stairwell . as she runs down the steps , s k i p p i n g the last few steps at each flight as she goes . she reaches into her pocket to pull out her phone , and hits her most recently called , pressing her phone to her ear and skips another few steps as she hurries. ‘ please pick up , please pick up , please pick up , ’ she practically p l e a d s the mantra on repeat with each b e a t of her feet against the stairs . but there is no answer . but it doesn't go straight to voicemail , which means his phone is okay , right ? that HAD to be a good sign . she had to believe that was a good sign . as her feet hit the ground floor she hangs up the call and shoves her phone into the pocket of her jacket before busting through the stairwell door .

she only pauses for a moment as she takes in the scene before her . the crowd of coughing bystanders , covered in dust and debris as they bled into the lobby of the building . her heart stops in her chest and she finds herself running again , r u n n i n g for the doors . but just as she is about to reach the door , a firm hand grabs her by the arm and pulls her back . she spins around , a verbal lashing ready on the tongue to cuss out whoever was getting in her way , but as he eyes meet those of a familiar face the words die on her lips . when she looks up to see john diggle standing before her , she visibly relaxes . a relieved smile relaxes her face and she steps closer to him , placing her hand on his . ‘ oh thank god , you're all okay , ’ she breathes out before she looks away from him to search the crowd . if he was here , oliver must be too . she just needed to find him. ‘ where's oliver ? i'm going to KILL him for this, he fucking scared me . ’

when john doesn't answer she looks back to him , brows f u r r o w e d . but they only stay that way for the second it takes to read the grief and worry on his expression . all emotion falls from her face , only the slight quiver of her lips as she pulls away slightly . she stares at him , but she can't hear him . his lips are moving but the only word she manages to gather is the name . she shakes her head , words falling from her lips as she looks away from him , the world seeming to SPIN around her . ‘ no … no no NO , ’ she says , her breathing coming in short as she tries to pull herself together . and before she even registers her actions , and before he can grab her arm again as she pulls it away , peyton is r u n n i n g for the door . she pushes through the door . she doesn't hear john yell after her , and she doesn't care . she just runs down the sidewalk and into the the dust clouded street .

peyton caughs as she inhales the aerial mixture of smoke and debris and squints through the smoke . ‘ OLIVER ?! OLIVER ! ’ she calls out into the indiscernible smoke , her breaths short and her vision blurred by the tears of p a n i c . she call his name again and begins to run . she doens't know where she's running , but she keeps going . and stops , and yells , and runs more . she coughs d e e p l y as she pauses when she thinks she sees something moving in the deep smoke . her breathing is heavy , attempting to steady her breathing . trails of tears painting lines through the dust that had begun to cake onto her face . and then through the dust , she spots a f a m i l i a r green suit . she freezes in her steps for a moment , and then she RUNS .

she runs at him , no words making it past her lips as she launches herself onto him . she wraps her legs tightly around him as if he was about to d i s o l v e into the smoke and dust that surrounded them . her arms wrapped tightly enough for her to be sure it's REAL .

#oliverqxeen #* au / v . ⟩ [ 𝚏𝚝 . 𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚚𝚡𝚎𝚎𝚗 ] my heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue !#* starters / closed . ⟩ let's take it back to once upon a time !#xoxo thanks

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ohprettyweeper-moved · 6 years

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The Last Bandito

Part Ten: I’ve Got Two Faces

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Quinn still questions her choices, Josh looks for a friendly face, Tyler finds the one he is looking for, Ildri comes face to face with a threat, and someone else’s true identity is revealed. Warnings: More angst, more injuries, threats. Word Count: 1495 A/N: This series was borne of this picture. The bolded phrases are prompts I have compiled to use in this fic. Also, I’ve forgotten to mention before that for the phrases in Ukrainian, I’ve been using Google Translate; forgive me if they’re not accurate!

If they can stop certain elements of the vampiric disease, maybe they can stop this monster in me.

Quinn looked over the students finishing their tests, making sure no one had mistaken her thoughts roaming elsewhere as an opportunity to cheat. They all looked to be determined on finishing their own tests, eyes focused where they should be. Her thoughts once again wondered to the conversation with Ildri several days before.

“What is all this?” Quinn asked, eyeing the papers spread everywhere over the table.

Ildri looked at her friend with tears in her eyes. Faylinn sat at once chair, eyes rimmed with red. Quinn wondered what conversation had gone on before she arrived.

“This is my heartbreak. Every newspaper clipping, journal entry, letter that I’ve written over the years to my friend who was taken.” She took a deep breath and asked Faylinn to give them some privacy. “I have done things in the name of finding him that I would never dream of doing otherwise. It’s been over twenty years, and, as Faylinn pointed out, maybe it’s time for me to let it go. Time for me to realize he isn’t coming back.”

Quinn frowned. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Did you kill a man in the alley last night?”

“No!” Quinn exclaimed. “I told you Ildri — I know when it’s going to happen. I can’t — it doesn’t happen at will.”

Ildri licked her lips. “Then why have you been inquiring about getting into Old Dema?”

Quinn’s jaw dropped open. “How do you know about that?”

“I work for the government,” Ildri replied, stating the obvious and sounding like it, too. “I work directly for The Conference. They. Know. Everything.”

Panic took over her entire being. She scrambled for her purse and her keys, until Ildri caught up with her, pulling her into a tight hug.

“You can’t go there, Quinn.”

“Professor Walsh?”

Quinn snapped back to the present. “Yes?”

“Where do you want our tests when we’re done?”

“I’ll take it, Peter. Thank you.”

She started a neat stack to her left, and it grew quickly. When all of her students had turned in their tests, she put the tests in her bag and left for her office to begin grading.

This time when Tyler entered New Dema, Josh was with him. They both had strict orders from the Bishops: retrieve the woman and bring her back. If they had to harm others in the process, so be it.

“I don’t like it,” Tyler said, shaking his head.

Josh positioned the hood of his jacket over his head to protect from the slight drizzle falling from overhead. “No one likes a rainy day in New Dema.”

“It’s not that. I don’t like hunting after this woman. Nico said that I remember her, but her scent isn’t at all familiar. When I saw her — she isn’t familiar.”

“How are we going to find her? We can’t just wait at her house.”

Tyler appreciated the change in subject. “I’ll start there, see if I can find her. I wish they had let us out before midday. Would have been easier to follow her.”

Josh agreed with a silent nod. The two Heathens trekked through New Dema, as confident as if they truly belonged in this open city. Tyler led the way to her house, and Josh’s eyes grew wide when they arrived.

“The girl with the blue dress lives here.”

“What?”

Josh remembered that he had not yet told his friend about the woman often in his dreams. “I dream about her, as if our lives are the same. This is where she lives.”

“The same woman?”

Josh thought for a moment, taking in the scents wafting from the house. He shook his head. “No.”

Tyler could see his friend fighting his desires over the direction from the Bishops. He elbowed Josh to pull him away from his thoughts.

“Go after her, if you want. I’ll meet you back at the city limits before sunset.”

Josh hesitated, but only for a moment before wishing his friend luck and taking off on his own. Tyler stood at the door for another minute before moving further down the sidewalk, following the scent of the woman he had been sent to capture.

Andre paced back and forth in front of Ildri, lecturing her on the dangers of revealing too much of herself and the knowledge she attained through her association with the New Dema government.

“First you allow your cousin into the library, and now you tell Quinn we know about her inquiries? The library I can dismiss, but Quinn — you have information on her, Ildri. I know that you do.”

Ildri pressed her lips shut. She had vowed never to tell Quinn’s secret, and she had more than one reason for maintaining her silence on the matter.

Andre stood toe to toe with the woman, looking down at her. “I’ve told you the dangers of her inquiries, her possible connections with Old Dema.”

“She has none,” Ildri assured.

“That you know of,” Andre snapped back.

Ildri stood her ground. “You’re right, sir. Something is coming. I can feel the rumblings from the old city, and the tension runs high here in New Dema. Quinn Walsh has nothing to do with that. The man who was killed in the alley —”

“Is none of your concern,” Andre interrupted. “You have your assignment, Ms. Van Helsing. Bring back your knowledge of Quinn Walsh. Until then, I’m placing you on suspension.”

Ildri had to stop herself from crying right there in his office. The New Dema government, The Conference — her entire life had been dedicated to serving them and their cause. Quinn’s life and intentions were one issue she would not budge on, and for that, the organization was punishing her.

She kept the tears at bay during the elevator ride down to the lobby of the government building. The doors opened to an eerily quiet hallway; normally, she would hear footsteps and chatter. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end as she carefully stepped onto the marble floor and walked toward the front entrance.

Three security guards lay unconscious on the lobby floor, bleeding from various places. A variety of other government workers were hidden behind furniture or locked behind office doors. Ildri’s gaze met the red eyes of the creature who had caused this threat; all at once, her heart beat faster and her mouth went dry.

“It’s you,” he said in disbelief.

Though she could hardly believe what she was seeing, Ildri dropped her things and ran back to the elevator. She pressed frantically at the button until the doors opened and she was able to rush inside. For the safety of The Conference, she had to alert Andre immediately.

Despite the city being on high alert after the intrusion at the government building five days ago, Ildri had insisted they still hold Quinn’s birthday celebration. Quinn had agreed, hoping that their plan would be successful.

But when she woke that morning, she already felt the pull of the bloodthirst. It could potentially be sated for now, be maintained, but until someone was laying dead at her hand, the monster inside Quinn would not sleep.

By the time she was to leave to meet Ildri and Faylinn, the thirst was strong as ever. She had only one chance to stop this before the night was over, and though it was not her preferred option, she had no other choice now. She wrote goodbye notes to both Faylinn and Ildri, packed a bag, and got in her car. She took one last look at her house, of the life she knew, and readied to leave it all.

“I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” a voice warned from the backseat. The person the voice belonged to held a knife to her throat.

“Please,” Quinn begged, tears forming in her eyes. “Please, don’t do this. It’s my birthday.”

The knife stayed still but the person holding it scooted closer to the driver’s seat. “I protect New Dema and our way of life here. If you go into Old Dema, they will use you to overrun our city with their vile creatures. I cannot allow it.”

Quinn’s eyes bolted to the rearview mirror so that she could get a better look at her assailant. A yellow bandana covered the bottom half of the woman’s face. Her yellow eyes glowed under a few loose strands of dark hair.

“If we sit here long enough,” Quinn warned, “you will not have a choice.”

The woman released her hold. “You already have a choice. You can let the Bishops use you, or you can let The Conference help you.”

Quinn risked turning to look at the woman in the backseat. She pulled down the yellow bandana, putting her whole face into view. Her eyes were not familiar to Quinn, but her face Quinn knew.

“Ildri?”

#twenty one pilots fanfiction #twenty one pilots fanfic #twenty one pilots fic #tøp fanfiction #tøp fanfic #tøp fic #the last bandito #trench #bandito #inspired #sahlo folina #no but really who saw that coming #been waiting forever to get this out in the open #what else did you pick up #can you save my heavydirtyqueue

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ataboolife · 6 years

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“Wolverine, Batman, and Spider-Man: The Holy Trinity of Masculinity” - Why Superheroes Help Celebrate the Nature of Masculinity While also Addressing its Perils.

I’ve come to believe the reason why superheroes play a large part in culture is due to the symbolism they represent of humanity. Since the dawn of storytelling, we have always made wisdom palatable and entertaining through fiction — a truth hidden in an elaborate tale. Superhero comics, movies and video games have become the next step in the evolution of story telling. I also believe there is a subconscious attraction for men to be drawn to superhero tales. Not only because it would be cool fly or stick to walls, but they’re communicating a wisdom about the nature of masculinity. We all wish we had the strength and the gadgets to take on great feats, but do we need to be a superhero to be the best parts of ourselves?

Wolverine: The Indestructible Protector

I often fanaticized as a child that I had the ability to heal immediately from any mortal wound and have adamantium claws extend out of my hand whenever I needed to fight; hell, I still do it as an adult. Despite my childish delusions, there is an understandable allure to Logan which all men can feel whenever they see him in the comics or watch Hugh Jackman fiercely bring him to life. He speaks to a profoundly animalistic and noble part of masculinity: the protector.

Despite the profoundly skewed current views on sexual roles, there is an intrinsic duty to protect that all men have to fulfill because it is in our nature. We must have the ability to protect the ones we love. We’ve done so ever since we first protected them from the ferocious beasts outside the cave during the dawn of man. Today’s threats may not be as primal in modern culture but they still exist, and we’re sometimes powerless to stop them. It may be a burglar, a random street mugging or predatory bankers whose greed caused a recession. But there are times when we can face these threats and engage them. Meet them head on and subdue them. But to do so comes at a physical price through injuries or even death. Wolverine can face any threat without paying that price.

Wolverine speaks to the protector side of masculinity because he is what we wish all can be for the ones we love. Even without his adamantium-laced skeleton and claws, Logan is a skilled warrior and his unyielding will in the face of adversity, and god-like enemies represent a real aspect of the masculine spirit. But it is the combination of his skill, will, and powers which make him a deity of the protectors. We wish that we can take on danger and challenge without being scathed. To lose a battle without the scars such as Wolverine does, even when he fights the Hulk. Some men seem to embody this, such as your tough as nails Uncle or a Medal of Honor recipient. They are men who protect, fight and live to tell the tale.

Even though we wish to be indestructible and have our “claws” ready at any moment, we are still vulnerable from the things we fight for. Logan has survived brutal punishment over the centuries, but he is haunted by the women he loved and lost, notably Jean Grey. He’s even tried to settle down and raise a family, i.e. “Old Man Logan,” but danger always looms wherever he goes, and it’s the ones he loves who pay the price. Through drinking, limiting his intimate relationships and being a solitary Ronin, Wolverine tries to make his heart indestructible. Which is the problem all men share: the more powerful we become as protectors, the more vulnerable our hearts are from the ones we finally love.

Wolverine is best of what he does, and what he does isn’t really nice. Embracing the protector side of masculinity is an ugly task because we as men have to face our shortcomings and become better so we can protect the ones we love. It also means facing both failure and death. We wish we can be a living weapon and indestructible, but this is reality and not the comics. Wolverine only died once and was resurrected; we don’t get to be so lucky, which is why men are fascinated with Wolverine.

Batman: Gotham’s Father

He is vengeance. He is the night. He is the paternal figure of Gotham. Batman may be the most revered fictional character ever created. The boy Bruce Wayne was made a man through tragedy, using his resources to fulfill the full potential of his body and mind, he has devoted himself to protecting Gotham from the evil that borne the Batman. Bruce Wayne has three personalities/identities, with two being a mask. There is the playboy-industrialist-philanthropist Bruce Wayne which the public sees, which is an elaborate decoy. There’s the Batman which strikes fear into the monsters of Gotham. Then there’s the real Bruce Wayne, the one that exists between both worlds. The one that only Alfred knows.

Batman is in many respects is a selfless father figure for Gotham. He even has adopted surrogate sons such as Dick Grayson and Jason Todd (the prodigal son), who were orphans also. Like many fathers, he provides his family with resources, discipline, and knowledge; even if it’s on the extreme side. Bruce was born into wealth but he uses it and his influence to create new technologies to help humanity or invest resources into Gotham so the city his love can grow. Then there’s the Batman who uses his body and mind to protect Gotham, like any true father who would do anything to protect his family.

Like Batman, father’s wear a mask or show different personalities depending who they are in front of. A father will show a different personality to his friends, to his coworkers, and a different one to his family. When there is tragedy or hardship, he puts on a mask to hide his fears and sorrow so he can lead his family. And sometimes these masks or personalities maybe even be used to hide lost dreams or quiet desperation.

Why does Batman only show his true self to Alfred? Alfred represents absolute trust. A surrogate father to the young Bruce Wayne, he has never forsaken him and never judged him the lunacy of dressing up as a bat. But he understood the pain and the goodness in Bruce Wayne and fostered and guided him as any loved one could. In reality, Alfred symbolizes the one person a father can be vulnerable to and doesn’t have to be afraid to show their fears and dreams. This person could be a parent, mentor, a best friend or a wife.

Despite the heroic paternalism Batman displays, he is deeply flawed because he can never truly be honest to another person, besides Alfred. If you live a life of wearing a mask, then you will alienate the people you love. Dick Grayson, his first son, left Bruce because he was afraid to become like Batman, a man obsessed with vengeance and is afraid to live without his mask.

Spider-Man: The Realistic One

Out of all the superheroes, Peter Parker a.k.a. Spider-Man is the most realistic. Realistic because he represents the truth of becoming a man. Spider-Man was just a teenage boy when he received his amazing powers. And like many of us, he makes poor choices when given new freedom or ability. We would use ours to get attention or to impress a girl, such as when I rear-ended my first car because I was too busy trying to get the attention of the pretty girl driving next to me... Sometimes we get lucky but other times unintended consequences are created by our actions, and we have to reap the costs of them. Such as Spider-Man letting the robber go who would later kill Uncle Ben.

Spider-Man is every boy who has ever had a crush on a girl who's out of his league, whoever had a dream, and who has ever been bullied. But it wasn’t the powers that made him a hero; those were just a means. It was the call of responsibility that Uncle Ben has instilled into him, which his death had fortified. Every person has the potential to become something much more. And it’s in our youth when we are bitten by the symbolic “radioactive spider” of inspiration that we learn that we have a calling. We sometimes squander our calling because of the fear of rejection or the fear of failing to live up to our potential. It’s responsibility that gives us great power. We take responsibility for ourselves, our mistakes, our shortcomings. Then we do something good with them.

Unlike Batman and Wolverine, Spider-Man’s beauty is that he is vulnerable. He wears a mask not only to protect Aunt May but so his greatest foes can’t see him afraid. His smartass remarks are a way of coping with the bloody fights he goes on. He feels pain and sadness when his relationship with Mary Jane is on the rocks. He worries about paying the bills and getting good grades. He is every man who has been given a great responsibility and must find a way to balance it with a healthy, normal life.

The Hero in Us All

Men play an essential role in existence, as do women. Though the sexes may not be equal biologically or in societal expectations, both sexes are equally crucial for humanity. One sex can’t live nor enjoy the beauty of life without the other. It’s hard on both sexes; neither one has it easy. We both have roles to play, and sometimes those roles are unfair. Women are expected to be beautiful, caring and nurturing no matter what. Men are expected to be stoic protectors and providers.

An excellent superhero example for women is Gal Gadot’s version of Wonder Woman. She isn’t just a mighty warrior, but a strong maternal figure who uses compassion and grace as a superpower. She doesn’t treat the men fighting with her as inferiors but fellow soldiers on a mission. She even shows a wonderful excitement over seeing a baby with its mother. Wonder Woman represents an icon who can be both feminine, intelligent and a warrior without forsaking her natural role or the opposite sex.

We all have roles to play and different ways to play them. We can never be indestructible like Wolverine, resourceful like Batman or acrobatic like Spider-Man. These heroes are based in fiction, but they were borne out of the best qualities of men. What men innately have. We can train ourselves to be the best physically and mentally. We can face terrifying situations for the ones we love. And we can become heroes if we take responsibility in doing so.

#batman #wolverine #spiderman #wonder woman #gender politics #sex roles #gender roles #masculinity #men #protector #provider #paternal #super hero #bruce wayne #logan #peter parker #psychology #philosphical #gender

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