#(except maybe pla for the former)

[makanidotdot]

Compared to BfA and Shadows Rising's portrayal, how did you like Sylvanas's portrayal in Before the Storm?

I think BTS was basically the debut of BFA and Shadows Rising Sylvanas... though I guess I could say it did feel like it got worse as BFA went on (her part in SR is so short it’s sort of whatever), so technically I liked BTS more than BFA lol, if only because in BTS she still displayed other emotions besides “cryptically smug-bored”. 

And because it’s been a while since I’ve actually specified why I felt like BTS Sylvanas was such a departure from her previous character, here’s an attempt to get down to the core of it.

In Before the Storm, this introduces a Sylvanas that has no real connection to the Forsaken as a people. She is portrayed as purely possessive and pitying of them. One of the main narrative objectives of the book itself is to actively drive a bigger wedge between Sylvanas and the Forsaken.  

Taking her character in this direction does not directly contradict anything explicitly stated about her in earlier content, there’s just a number of implications and themes in previous stuff that make this seem like a suuuuper questionable direction to take the character.  There are other little characterization problems I had with BTS, but this is the core one.

I will explain further because this is an essay blog now.

 In Edge of Night, even though she maybe doesn’t realize it, or lies to herself about it, she ultimately does end up taking the Valkyr rez not just to avoid death, but also to tell Garrosh to stop using the Forsaken as cannon fodder.  Sylvanas herself also reflects on the fact her attitude toward her people has shifted.  

Her main mission during the following expansion (Cata) was to strengthen the Forsaken, not only in numbers, but as a fully fledged people who have a secure place in the world (and who intend to take more).  The questlines in Silverpine Forest are centered around showing you some of how Sylvanas is planning for the future of the Forsaken.  Sylvanas takes you on a horsie ride and tells you the deal after you’ve helped her and the Forsaken there.  In Legion, she tries to secure the lantern not just for herself, but the Forsaken too, as a further means of stopping death and ensuring their future.  She is definitely interested in saving herself, but is also invested in her people as well.

BTS -> BFA regresses Sylvanas’s character development to Wrath Sylvanas, who doesn’t care about anything except the goal she’s tunnel visioning (in wrath it was Arthas, in BFA it’s a series of McGuffins), and the Forsaken are just a means to an end, just another part of the Horde. And, making the situation worse, the characterization of the Forsaken themselves has NOT regressed back to Wrath. They seem to be getting gooder and gooder as time goes on. 

As I read it, one of the main points of Edge of Night was to show Sylvanas actually being forced to face the consequences of one of the things she’d done in her time as Banshee Queen: create a race people to which she is their only true leader, and who, if she disappeared now, would crumble without her.  It’s not a huge stretch to draw a parallel from that to her former role as Ranger General.  And it seems that she accepts this role again as she returns to life.

Sylvanas being given this new goal to pursue after Arthas, of truly being the Queen of the Forsaken and securing a real foothold for the Forsaken on Azeroth, suggests that not only did her iron will and unrelenting nature persist from life into undeath, but a part of the ranger general who was compelled to defend those who depend on her, so much she died for it, persisted as well.  And...isn’t that sort of the whole reason Sylvanas was ever an interesting character in the first place?  Key pieces of that once great hero persisting into undeath, basically out of her sheer strength of will?  Sylvanas did some terrible things in her pursuit of Arthas, but part of her pursuit would always be something players could sympathize with- everyone wants to kill the fucker that killed them and /spits on their corpse.  Likewise, Sylvanas could do terrible things in pursuit of strengthening the Forsaken as a people, but people would always be able to empathize with wanting to protect and lift up your own. This dichotomy makes her a likable villain/antihero.  People like those.  

If Sylvanas loses all the traits that made her living self special, then Arthas really did truly kill her, and following her character after she died in WC3 is pointless, because it’s just a totally new character that just has Sylvanas’s body and memories.

Soo yeah, BTS -> BFA comes along.  She doesn’t really -get- the Forsaken, she wants to do war things because she touched Azerite.  Remember Azerite?  Remember how progress bar filler rocks that make you smart and power hungry kicked off this whole new war?   Aren’t you interested in THESE MAGIC ROCKS AND WHO GETS THEM???? Hmm hey does Azerite maybe help the Forsaken stay alive?? Oh... no actually Sylvanas doesn’t care about the Forsaken anymore really, she just cares about killing hope I guess?  She wants to get a dagger and uh.. Azshara.. Nzoth...anyway Sylvanas ACTUALLY wants lots of people to die to go to the Maw because this will help her get more power so she can eventually destroy all existence?  And she’s helping the Jailer, this rando big bad we’ve never heard of and don’t care about and she has the same goals him now so maybe they can both destroy the world or something uhhhhhhhhhh

Who caressss this could be ANY character that is fed up with existence and wants to tear it down!  Wanting to lift up the Forsaken and secure their future possibly to the detriment of other races is a motivation that would be unique to Sylvanas!  And the Future of the Forsaken is still a problem whether or not Sylvanas is worried about it, so what are they gonna do? Just take that away from Sylvanas and give it to someone el-

oh

[norcumii]

HAPPY (slightly late) BIRTHDAY, @aces-to-apples! I have some fic for you! :D

Minor apologies to everyone, because this latched on to my brain and would not let go, even though I meant to be more moderate and do Life Things today.

No regrets.

This is a post-war fic, where Everyone Lives (except Sidious because fuck him, and Krell because fuck him too) and things are rather different. Main pairing is Padme/Anakin/Rex, with background mention of Ahsoka/Steela and Jesse/Maul/Kix, because that’s Apples’ jam. HIGH CITRUS RATING. Sorry not sorry at all.

*********

It’s their third anniversary, and the fourth anniversary of the end to the Clone Wars. Like always, it’s a weird day, full of a mix of emotions and a few official appearances they couldn’t get out of. As a senator, Padmé still has to go to the morning session commemorating the Attack on Coruscant, while Rex and Anakin have to smile for cameras along with the other significant military figures laying mementos at the GAR commemorative wall. That’s at least a good chance to catch up with anyone they haven’t seen lately, what with Echo and Fives still being in the army, Ahsoka and Steela living it up as bounty hunters, Cody and Obi-Wan being themselves, and any number of other former officers and Jedi.

It’s after lunch that they have time to themselves. All three eat light in public, so they get to cuddle together in the living room for a set of their favorite light snacks. It’s a quiet time, while most of Coruscant winds up from ‘solemn remembrance’ to ‘celebration.’

There’s too many memories for them to celebrate. Oh, sure, the whole winning the war thing was good. The betrayal – Anakin’s friend, Padmé’s mentor, who tried very hard to kill Fives and oh yes, brain wash the entire army – it’s just too much.

Rex doesn’t even bother with a melancholy but vicious variations on ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ that he indulged in the prior years. They’re just glad Palpatine is gone, they’re still here, and that they get this time close with each other.

Being tangled up together means that they can feel the slow relaxation, as clinging turns to sprawling, and being who they are a restless energy grows. Rex – who still struggles with the concept of downtime – is the one to separate first, and Padmé asks, “Shooting range?” in an innocent tone as if the thought just happens to cross her mind. Rex’s grin is still too sharp, which means even more reason for Anakin to drive their speeder to Padmé’s favorite range. It’s a layer further down that probably any other senator would even dream of considering a visit to, near enough to CoCo Town to be busy, but distant enough that celebrations are off elsewhere.

Like last year, Padmé rented the place out, so it’s just them and the two bored – well armed – grandparent-y types keeping an eye on things more out of habit than anything. They keep out front at the store part, once again involved in a holochess game Anakin couldn’t swear has changed a single move since last year.

Rex leads the way inside, Padmé stopping for a quick chat with the owners. Anakin sidles around her, to find Rex is already checking the available weapons over and making vaguely disgruntled noises which means the weapons are superb for civilian care, even if that might not be up to the GAR’s standards.

Or maybe just Rex’s, but to Anakin it’s the same.

He settles onto the floor where he can see both Rex and Padmé shooting, as the two efficiently check over weapons and ammo, and then begin to methodically take down a number of plas targets. They start off simple, then as they relax further it leads to teasing competition and trick-shots that would make other patrons rather nervous, which is why Padmé reserved the place just for them.

Anakin loves watching them like this, the whole spectrum from cool, murderous professionals to giddy playfulness that’s still beautifully terrifying. Padmé tried to tease him once about having a ridiculous competence kink, but that fizzled when she invited Rex into the ‘discussion’ and he’d just stared at her for a genuinely confused moment before asking “doesn’t everyone?”

Anakin slips into meditation, because the day’s built up too many ghosts for someone with his sensitivity to the Force. He works to center himself, to let go of so much pain, and it takes time. Letting go of what in retrospect was years of Palpatine dripping poison into his ears, while maneuvering the Jedi Order into political corners and away from moderate – reasonable and sane! – doctrine. Letting go of the fear that Obi-Wan and Cody might not be able to right that particular ship, and fix the Order’s extremes even with the help and support of the Council and especially Mace.

He works to heal just a little bit more of the emotional wound from Ahsoka leaving the Order, a good move for her and her life but still biting deep at his own insecurities and fragile sense of self that still, four years on, hasn’t fully recovered.

It wasn’t a betrayal, not like Palpatine, but it still hurt him.

The old fears surge up a moment, and he allows himself to face them. Anakin doesn’t like considering the what ifs from Mandalore. What if Maul hadn’t been creating an elaborate means to get Anakin and Obi-Wan away from the Chancellor’s grasp and manipulations; what if Jesse hadn’t listened to and accepted Maul’s surrender, with vital intel about the Sith Lord and how to take him down.

He’s not surprised that Jesse, Kix, and Maul hadn’t returned for the celebration – this time of year is rough for all of them, but those three more than most, and Obi-Wan does much, much better not having to deal with his old nemesis ever, but especially now. They can manage to be on polite speaking terms in front of cameras – Maul’s paying off his debt to society after all – but it’s a fragile peace.

The feelings of care and affection sink into the light daze of meditation, and Anakin comes back to the present to find Rex on his right, Padmé to his left, all three cuddled up together again. He flushes a little and grins, disoriented by the way he’s surrounded by love but feeling lighter for having addressed and moved on just a little bit more from his issues. “Who won?” he asks, and Padmé’s grin is wicked while Rex’s is just a bit sweet – things so few besides him ever get to see.

“Both of us,” Rex declares, leaning in to kiss him slow and deep, seeing how Anakin needs to take his time coming back to the here and now. He doesn’t know how Rex always figures it out, but he appreciates it so much.

When they’re both breathless and pulling apart, Padmé sneaks in, peppering them both with teasing little kisses that are more than half nips but all invitation. Anakin chases those all the way to his feet, Rex steadying both him and Padmé.

“Come on,” she dares them, leading the way through the sidedoor to the sim room next door. Anakin’s honestly not sure what it’s called – it’s not like the place advertises it – but Rex took one look and was so pleased at a sim room that’s what they call it amongst themselves.

One of the owners helps them suit up, while the other picks out a maze design. There’s a lot of clunking and creaking noises as the variable panels around the auditorium-sized space realign, creating a mock battleground they’ll get to play in.

Since Rex cheats and memorizes layouts more on first instinct than intent, he’s politely turned so his back’s to the developing design, fussily readjusting every single strap to the bodysuit padding before checking over their weapons. They’re toys, with lasers that are light and nothing else – Anakin’s certain the power sources couldn’t produce anything more and he’s said – multiple times over – not that it stops Rex.

Padmé, who cheats shamelessly, keeps an eye on the way the panels are rearranging, and she’s the first one pelting off as soon as they have the green light. The artificial fog is just starting to filter in as Anakin breaks right and Rex breaks left, separating to their own starting points before the game’s signal buzzes to begin.

Anakin listens to the Force well enough to be a terrifying shot, and gravity is more optional for him than most people. Rex has trained essentially from birth to be terrifying in combat. Padmé is clever, small, and swift, not to mention ready to sneak in any advantage she can slice out of an opportunity.

Even playing nice, and with Anakin not cheating with the Force too much, the laser tag game is brutal and goes on for a delightfully long time. Rex probably won, though they don’t bother asking what the suits registered for scores on their way out.

They’re relaxed in truth as they stroll down to Dex’s – the walk’s a little long, but it’s nice to have Padmé under one arm and Rex under the other as they wander through the crowds.

Ok, so it is more than a little mortifying when someone stops them to try to negotiate with Anakin for Rex’s services, but Padmé’s Force presence sings with amusement as she pretends to be offended and insists on negotiating with the idiot over her own services. She’s charging way more than the idiot can afford, and the embarrassed Pantoran finally beats a confused retreat because they “just wanted a nice time with the pretty man, not the scary lady”.

They’re still giggling over it as they stumble into Dex’s, Anakin dragging Padmé over to a booth while Rex places their orders at the counter. When he comes back to the table Anakin swaps so Rex is on the inside, and he’s braced for when Dex erupts from the kitchen, probably from recognizing their order. Anakin just has to press in a little, bumping shoulders with Rex who tenses in spite of himself. There’s the usual blush of frustration with himself in the Force, not that Anakin blames Rex for a bad reaction. Dex can be a lot, and given past experience with Krell....

He stays close, keeping Rex grounded with a light bump with his knee or brush of the arm whenever he can feel a tremble of trauma rattle through.

Rex settles quick, because Dex is an incredibly sweet being and Padmé is just that good at smoothing over the atmosphere when she tries – and for Rex, she’s always happy to go the extra mile.

When they finally leave for home, they’re well fed, relaxed, and content.

Of course the instant they’re back in the apartment they’re all over each other. It’s their anniversary, and the entire afternoon and evening has been one long game of teasingly-close-and-intimate but never over the line into anything sexual.

He didn’t used to have this kind of patience, but Padmé and Rex have worked long and hard to help him find it.

Anakin snags supplies from the bedroom, because this is definitely the kind of evening to enjoy the view from the main sitting room – and the nice, plush couches – as other people celebrate in a more  public manner. He sets things up as Rex moves around Padmé, speaking low and teasing in that tone that sinks right into Anakin’s belly, getting him hard so damn fast. Rex is all kisses and caresses for her, deftly reaching under her clothes and pulling free a set of vibro-knives, a pretty little blaster from her back, and a hold-out pistol tucked into a boot. Rex moves behind her, kissing along the neck to whisper into her ear, getting a delighted laugh from Padmé as he starts carefully running his fingers through her hair. That pulls a deep groan from Anakin, because the way she looks, arched up towards Rex who’s curled over her, the play of calloused, strong fingers through her hair – they are unfairly gorgeous, and the wicked grin Rex sends him means he totally knows, and that’s part of why he’s doing this.

He pulls some lockpicks free of Padmé’s fancy hair style, ruining the last bits of styling to leave tousled curls around her shoulders, and Anakin thinks she looks better that way. Oh, she’s always beautiful, but that mix of artifice and mess always gut-punches him in the best way.

Rex turns back to rest his chin on Padmé’s head, earning an amused look from her before her eyes flutter closed and she moans, because he’s ghosting his hands down along her body – a bit too busy for a caress, but too gentle for a pat-down.

This is all a little game they play, just between themselves – Rex tries to find whatever toys and surprises Padmé’s hidden for a day, though he doesn’t tend to find everything. She’s had a lot of time to learn ridiculous ways to hide things, and she’s got three dedicated tailors willing to alter her fancy wardrobe in interesting ways.

Padmé has promised that if Rex does win, she’ll replace that expensive lingerie set they ruined last time, that gorgeous gold getup for Rex with the pretty gold chain dangles that drove Anakin wild. Not that he’d ever tell, but Anakin knows for a fact that she’s got the replacement already, tucked away in a discreet box in the depths of her terrifyingly large closet.

Rex ends with his hands on Padmé’s hips, nuzzling the skin behind her ear. Anakin can see how it makes her knees go weak, how Rex is supporting most her weight, and he’s tempted to just jack off here and now because they are gorgeous.

“That’s everything,” Rex declares, that deep rumble again that makes both Padmé and Anakin shiver.

“No,” she says, a bit breathy as she leans back so Rex has most of her weight in truth. “A little help, Ani?” She lifts a leg, and if he’s letting his hands wander and feel as he helps pull off her boot, no one minds.

The blaster holster is discreet, right next to the back seam, and Padmé pulls a thin bit of metal from inside that seam. It’s not wide enough to be an actual knife, but it has a wicked point and looks like in a pinch, it’d be great for stabbing into vital bits or throwing hard enough to confuse someone.

Rex looks genuinely put out, so he didn’t miss it on purpose. “I checked there!”

Padmé twists enough to kiss him an apology. “The holster’s specifically designed to conceal it. You’re meant to find the gun.”

Rex shoots an exasperated look to Anakin, who grins and shrugs back at him. He knows better than to wager against Padmé. Rex smirks and rolls his eyes, then gives him a look. Anakin can feel his intent in the Force, so he grins and nods back.

“Sneaky,” Rex grumbles, hoisting Padmé into his arms and a long kiss. She’s laughing when he pulls away, then shrieking giggles as Rex carefully tosses her in Anakin’s direction.

It’d be too far for even Rex to make, but Anakin uses the Force to catch her and draw Padmé into his arms. He gives her his own long kiss, enjoying the pleased noises she makes while twining her arms around him.

“Congratulations, Angel, you won,” he says, pulling away to gaze at her in helpless awe. He sinks down onto the couch, because even petite as she is, he doesn’t want to stand around holding her much longer. “How do you want to start this evening?”

Padmé reaches for the toys Anakin laid out, and trails her fingers over the strap-on harness with a teasing smirk. “I think I’d like you on your knees – the couch is just the right height, and you can see what you can do for Rex while I take care of you.”

He can’t stop a pleased noise escaping him, doesn’t even try as he clutches her closer. He enjoys the noise it pulls from her as his artificial hand clenches just a hair too tight – he’d calibrated it so precisely when first getting it, desperate to make sure he didn’t hurt her, only to find her very, very sheepishly asking at some point if he couldn’t be just a little rougher – not harsh, just enough to feel things.

Rex is better about knowing just where that line is, and he walks it beautifully, but Anakin can never quite figure out how to convince his brain that ‘worship’ can include roughness. It’s sometimes such a relief to just follow Rex’s lead, able to trust that someone knows exactly how far to push and how best to do it.

Doesn’t hurt that Rex enjoys that too.

“Maybe this one instead?” Rex asks, chuckling as if he can hear what Anakin’s thinking. He gently places a different dildo next to the strap-on, and Anakin shivers. That one’s got an interesting vibration system, so it doesn’t take long to beautifully scramble his brains but it only teases Padmé.

She makes a delighted, interested noise. “And then when I’m all riled up you’ll take care of me?”

“If I can stand again by then, I’ll fuck you on the table until you scream,” he rumbles, voice dark and promising. Ani can feel the way Padmé shivers, her breath catching as she arcs like she can already feel the Naboo-imported wood on her back.

“Yes, sir,” she breathes, and Ani can see Rex’s eyes dilate at that, dark and hungry as his tone had been.

Anakin doesn’t actually know when to stop pushing, but thankfully they know that. He reaches out, hand to Rex’s shoulder like it’s just another day on the battlefield and he’s giving a friendly shoulderpat. Except now he gets to slide his thumb under Rex’s shirt, trace lightly over some scars and the collarbone, watch Rex arc his neck as he sways in closer. “Tease her enough, take your time, and then we might have to return the favor.”

Rex lunges in for a fierce kiss, teeth clacking a bit before he rearranges to not squish Padmé quite as much between them. From her laughter, she doesn’t mind, and her squirming is turning interesting. Rex, the bastard, is smirking when he finally lets Anakin breathe. “It’s gonna take both of you.”

His brain might not be firing on full yet, but he doesn’t need thought to know what’s going on here. “Pssh, please,” he says, lofty and disdainful. “It’d only take Padmé, but I want to do more than watch.” Then his brain does catch up, and his expression falters. “Er, I mean. Not that I mind watching, just, uh....”

They just laugh, moving in to start helping Anakin out of his clothes. They don’t even need to say anything, which is kind. Anakin waits long enough for his prosthetic’s glove to come off – Rex has a fascination with the detailwork and feel of it that Anakin doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t question. Then he’s reaching back, and it’s a tangle of limbs and disappearing clothing, laughter and pleasure. He loves his spouses so much, his two beautiful badasses that can lead like gods and fight like nightmares – kind, and sometimes ridiculous, and all entirely his.

~end

[littleplebe]

Heyyyyy. I wish you would write a Wintershock with this: “Dude why did that siren take on my image to try and seduce you, is there something you wanna tell me?”

“Dr. Foster, the Avengers havereturned. Prince Thor requests your presence in the med bay.”

Darcy’s ears pricked up at theannouncement and she glanced at Jane to find her wide-eyed with worry.

“Is he hurt? Is anyone hurt?”Jane asked, already closing her laptop and swiping her phone off the desk.

“Only Sergeant Barnes and AgentBarton.”

“Shit,” Darcy whispered indismay.

She watched Jane from the cornerof her eye as the scientist hurried to the door but Darcy, herself, made nomove to leave. She desperately wanted to go, but decided she would simplyclutter up the area. Post-mission reunions were exclusive to the Avengers andtheir beloved/close friends only.

“You, too, Ms. Lewis,” JARVISsaid.

Darcy looked up, bewildered.“What now?”

“Your presence is required in themed bay as well.”

Jane stopped at the door andturned to her stumped assistant. “Well, don’t just sit there!”

Darcy jumped up and sped afterJane, her mind spinning with concern for Clint and Bucky, interspersed with herbafflement over JARVIS’ message. Sure, she was acquainted with the Avengers,some more than others, but she wasn’t that close to any of them, atleast not enough to warrant an invitation to post-mission group hugs.

Jane took the private elevatordown to the medical floor, Darcy fidgeting nervously beside her.

“How hurt do you think they are?”she asked, looking around at the slick metal lining of the elevator. It wasbigger than the employee elevator and housed a freaking couch in case one got tired of standing.

Darcy didn’t have clearance touse the private elevator.

“I don’t know.” Jane shrugged.“Hope they’re not too serious. Bucky can heal, but Clint…”

“Yeah.” Darcy coughed guiltily.She was more worried about Bucky. Clint was a great guy, no doubt, but Bucky?Bucky was special. He was strong, funny, criminally handsome, and heappreciated Darcy’s choice in movies.

She maybe nursed a small crush onhim. Maybe.

Small.

One-sided.

Jane poked her when they reachedthe med bay and Darcy looked up to find the Avengers, Nick Fury and Maria Hillstanding there in a circle. Thor broke off to envelope Jane in his arms, pressinga brief, relieved kiss to her lips.

“Darcy,” he said with a smile,turning to give her a hug as well.

Darcy happily hugged him back,squeezing his biceps and lingering deliberately until he barked out a laugh andpushed her away.

“Lewis,” Tony Stark greeted, beckoningher into the circle. “How many times have I told you, no inappropriate behaviorin my tower?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Likeyou’re one to talk. How’s Bucky?” she asked, adding belatedly, “And Clint?”

“They’ll be fine.”

“Cool.” She stifled a sigh ofrelief. “So why am I here?”

Tony eyed the people around them.“Anyone want to fill her in on what happened?”

The first person to catch Darcy’seye was Steve. He looked drained but offered her a polite smile. Beside him,Natasha Romanoff smirked, looking no less scary than she usually looked. Furyand Agent Hill were as impassive as ever. Dr. Banner sported tattered clothesand looked about ready to collapse.

No one stepped up to answerTony’s question.

“What is it?” Darcy finallyblurted, unable to take the suspense. “Is it my parents? Are they supervillainsnow? ‘Cause last I checked, my dad was working with unstable chemicals at KripkoChem.”

Darcy had warned him to becareful. Playing with science was what had caused Johann Schmidt to become theRed Skull in the first place. It wasn’t safe, dammit! Why did no one everlisten to her?

“This is all your fault,” shethrew carelessly at Jane, who gave her a flat look, totally unaffected by thebaseless accusation. She was used to Darcy blaming her for every wrong thing inher life. More often than not, it was funny.

“Your dad’s fine, Darcy,” Steve assuredher. He sighed and looked at Fury, who grimaced.

“I’m outta here. Debrief in anhour.”

“I dislike him a lot,” Darcywhispered to Tony as the former director of SHIELD stalked off, his leathercoat billowing impressively behind him.

“Everyone does,” Tony whisperedback. “He’s very unlikable.”

Once Fury had disappeared, Stevestepped forward and took Darcy’s arm, leading her some distance away from thegroup. Tony followed, a curious bounce to his step. For a man sporting an uglybruise on his forehead, he looked a little too gleeful for Darcy’s comfort.

“Uh,” she mumbled, glancing backat the others. They watched her for a moment before Jane said something andeveryone turned their attention to her. Darcy scrunched up her face at Tony.“Am I fired? Because I swear I haven’t posted unsolicited Avengers photos ontwitter in more than three weeks!”

Tony snorted, but was otherwiseunsurprised by her admission. “You’re not fired, but we’re gonna have a talkabout your extracurricular activities in the tower.”

“Never mind that,” Steveinterrupted impatiently. “Darcy. This is about the mission.”

Darcy blinked, a surprised smilebeginning to creep onto her face. “You’re allowed to tell me? Am I beingpromoted?”

“Uh, no. Normally, we wouldn’ttell you about where we go and what we do but…” Here, Steve paused and lookeduneasily at the closed door to his left. “But this concerns you, so…”

Darcy nodded slowly, wonderinghow in hell an Avengers mission could concern her. Stranger things have happened, Darcy, she reminded herself, smilingat Steve in encouragement. “Lay it on me, Captain.”

Her eyes flickered briefly to theclosed door. Was Bucky in there?

“Right,” Steve began. “Have you,by any chance, heard of Sirens?”

“Sirens, as in the myth? As in,mermaids who lure sailors into their traps with songs? As in–”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re real,” Tony declaredloudly, cutting her off.

Darcy’s smile didn’t falter. Ifanything, it widened in amusement, a laugh bubbling up inside her, ready toburst forth at the first sight of a mischievous smile on their faces. Shewaited for one of them to yell ‘Gotcha!’ and when no one did, her brow furrowedin confusion. She focused her questioning gaze on Steve, who looked as seriousas ever. If Captain America was serious, it definitely couldn’t be a joke.

“I guess,” she began carefully. “Iguess I can believe that.” After all, she had faced aliens, giant firedemons and more recently, before coming to live in the Tower, a handful ofHYDRA creeps trying to kidnap Jane.

“They’re not from here. But theydo exist in Asgard,” explained Steve. “Apparently, someone thought it’d be funto drop Sirens into the Pacific and let them cause havoc. Thor found out and weimmediately left to capture them.”

Wow, Sirens. Darcy couldn’t stopthe grin spreading on her face when the cool quotient of their mission finally settledin. Her overactive imagination instantly began conjuring images to supportSteve’s words. Stormy skies, dark choppy waters, a mysterious tune in the air,a ship manned by Midgard’s most capable warriors… it was a scene right out of amedieval fantasy novel.

“So, you were off on an excitingfishing trip this past week, eh?” Darcy couldn’t help but ask, “What are theylike, the Sirens? Beautiful or monstrous? Green or sparkly? Wait… how are youguys even here right now? Shouldn’t you be rotting in their underwater caves,lulled there by their enchanting voices?”

“Your confidence in our abilitiesis inspiring,” deadpanned Tony.

Darcy snickered. “So, whathappened? Did you capture them all?”

“We couldn’t. It got really uglyand none of them survived.” Steve paused and looked at the door again. “Exceptone.”

“Oookay.” Darcy’s eyes swept fromSteve to Tony and back. “I’m still waiting for the part where you tell me howany of this concerns me.”

“The remaining Siren… well, Buckywouldn’t let us kill her and,” Steve cleared his throat, “and so we brought herhere.”

“Also, she looks like you,” Tonyadded quickly, earning a glare from Cap. The billionaire merely shrugged.

Darcy stared at them, utterlynonplussed. “What?”

“Yes, well, Sirens assume theform of–”

“The person you desire the most,”she finished impatiently. “I know that, Steve! But what does that have to dowith… wait, are you in love with me?”

“No! God, no! I mean, you’regreat, but…”

“I get it, Cap, jeez!” Shecrossed her arms and regarded both men shrewdly. “So then, Tony saw Pepper andThor must have seen Jane… correct?”

“Not quite. Thor is a demigod.He’s immune to Sirens. And I was in my Iron suit. It protected me from theircharms.”

Darcy frowned. “Okay. What aboutthe others?”

“The Hulk doesn’t desire anyone,nor does Romanoff, which,” Tony turned to Steve with a pout, “was a missedopportunity. Now I’m wondering if she’s a cyborg.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Women areimmune to Siren magic, Tony. Don’t be an ass.” His tone changed then, as he spokesoftly, “I saw Peggy. She was beautiful. She swam out of the water and took myhand.” Steve gulped. “But I snapped out of the enchantment when Tony punched meand reminded me she’s dead.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” sangTony. “Otherwise she’d have pulled you right into the ocean with Barnes.”

Darcy’s gaze flicked from one manto the other as they spoke, her brain working full time to process all this newand incredible information. Needing a moment to sort everything out, she tunedout the conversation and focused her energy on what Steve and Tony wereultimately trying to tell her.

She thought she knew. It scaredher a bit, but she was beginning to get an inkling of where this conversationwas headed and how she was involved. Butterflies erupted in her stomach at themere idea of it, giant butterflies, ones that only took flight when a certainsuper soldier was around.

“We don’t really know who theSiren turned into to hypnotize Clint,” Steve was saying when Darcy focused onhim again.

“I heard him call her Laura,”supplied Tony, sounding intrigued. “Who’s Laura?”

They stood in thought for a momentbefore Steve placed a gentle hand on Darcy’s shoulder, his blue eyes earnest. “Ithink you know now why you’re here.”

“Y-yeah.” She looked hesitantlyat the door. “Are they in there?”

Steve nodded. “The Siren is theretoo, but she’s beyond the glass pane. Imprisoned. Don’t… don’t look at her.”

Tony waved off his advice andremarked, “You can check her out if you want, but since she refuses to changeforms, it’ll be a bizarro parent trap kinda situation, so try not to freakout.” He opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

Darcy found herself in a smallprivate ward with three beds lining the opposite wall. To her right lay anunconscious Clint, bruised and battered, with his leg in a cast. She watchedhim for a moment, her heart heavy. Suddenly, the latest mission didn’t seem socool anymore. It had evidently been dangerous and exhausting. And Clint seemedto have gotten the short end of the stick. The Sirens had done one hell of anumber on him.

“Darcy?”

She jumped slightly and turned tosee Bucky sitting on a bed, shirtless, his metal hand resting just above a longred gash on his abdomen. He looked alarmed to see her. “Who let you in?”

Darcy stepped closer, her eyestrained on his injury. An inch of it, at the top, had healed already and thescar it left behind was pink and swollen. She was about to ask him how he wasfeeling when a movement to her left caught her eye.

“Don’t…” Bucky began but it wastoo late. Darcy had already whipped around and was now gaping openly at thesight before her.

“Woah,” she murmured, momentarilyforgetting about Bucky and going to stand before the glass pane. If she didn’tknow any better, she would have thought she was looking into a mirror.

The woman on the other sidelooked just like her. Same blue-green eyes, pouty lips, flowing dark hair… eventhe expression on her face reflected Darcy on a typical day, bored and ready todish out a sarcastic comment at the drop of a hat.

Still, there was something about her. A certain glow, that Darcylacked. She wore rags which she plucked and pulled at, clearly wanting to getrid of them. But someone, one of the Avengers perhaps, had strapped twin beltsaround her frame to hold the rags in place and to keep her from strippingnaked. Darcy flushed, thinking about one of the guys covering her bare bodywith the fabric. It was embarrassing to think someone wearing her skin had pranced naked in front ofthe mighty Avengers.

Muffled sound of Bucky callingher name reached her ears but Darcy couldn’t take her eyes off of herself. Sheidly wondered if Sirens could bewitch, not just men but, women too. Withoutthinking, she raised a hand and placed it on the thick sheet of glassseparating them. The Siren’s lips moved but no sound came out. The glass was probablysound proof.

For a moment, it looked like shewould imitate the action and place her palm over Darcy’s, but the next second,she lunged at the glass, her lips pulled back over her sharp, animal-like teethin a seemingly silent growl.

Darcy shrieked and jumped back,colliding with something solid. Heart hammering in her chest, she tore her gazeaway from her scary clone and turned to find Bucky standing behind her.

“Are you all right?”

“Dude,” she breathed, clutchinghis arm tightly. “Why did the Siren take on my image to try and seduce you?”

Bucky looked pained, like he wasfighting with himself and didn’t know how to respond.

“Is there something you wannatell me?” Darcy pressed, willing him to speak.

She was nervous and excited to hear his confession. Inall the months she had known him, not once had he given any indication that hedesired her as more than a friend. He hung out with her whenever they ran intoeach other, but never went out of his way to seek her. He was also veryunapologetic about leaving abruptly when he wasn’t in the mood to be around heror anyone else.

Jane had once remarked that hiseyes followed Darcy whenever they were in the same room. Her off-hand remarkhad been waved aside, presumed false and possibly a product of her vividimagination. But maybe she had been right. Darcy was always so focused on not staring at Bucky for too long thatshe hadn’t realize he noticed her too.

Now, as she stared hopefully intohis slightly glassy eyes, she cursed herself for how blind she’d been.

“You should leave.” His gruffvoice, low with restraint, popped her growing bubble of happiness and Darcylooked at him, confused.

“What?”

“Go. Now,” Bucky practicallybegged and Darcy’s heart sank.

“Yeah, okay.” He was embarrassed,that was it. Maybe he was ashamed of wanting her. Or maybe he didn’t reallywant her and the Siren’s magic was flawed; it had shown him Darcy instead ofsomeone else.

She stumbled away from him,feeling utterly stupid. “Cool. It’s all cool, Barnes. I… I won’t ever bring itup, if that’s what you want.”

She turned around and fled theroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Everyone outside had left, exceptSteve and Natasha, who were standing in a corner with Steve slumped against thewall and Natasha whispering something fast in his ear. At one point, she pulledher hand back and slapped him hard.

“Snap out of it,” Darcy heard hersay before she stepped into the elevator and let it whisk her away from thecraziness.

–o–

That evening, Thor brought thelimp body of an unfamiliar woman into the lab.

“What the hell?” Darcy exclaimed,rolling her chair far away and making a face at Jane.

The astrophysicist lookedapologetic. “This is why Steve had to tell you about her,” she said. “So youwouldn’t freak out when Thor brought her here.”

Darcy had no idea what Jane was talkingabout. “Who is she?”

When she got no answer, only twinexpressions of ‘take a guess, why don’t you?’ realization dawned and Darcy’sgaze snapped back to the unconscious woman who looked nothing like her. She had ginger hair, dry thin lips, and skin thecolor of lichen.

“Why does she look like that?”she asked Thor.

“It’s her original form,” heexplained. “I assumed seeing her awake would upset you, like it did earlier.”Darcy wondered how he knew. “Therefore I requested the Midgardian healer todrug her. Following that, she naturally changed back into her original form.”

“Whatever.” Darcy sniffed. “Whydid you bring her here?”

Jane cleared a table far awayfrom the important equipment. “Bruce wanted me to run some tests on her beforeThor takes her back to Asgard. Are you going to stay and help?”

“Not if you’re planning tomutilate her for science.” At the horrified look on Jane’s face, Darcy quicklybacktracked. “Joke. ‘Twas a joke, Janey.”

She watched Thor lay her down onthe table, then asked quietly, “Is Bucky okay now?”

Thor nodded and regarded herseriously. “Are you?”

Darcy broke into a reluctantgrin. “Pfft. I’m alive and kickin’, big guy. Never been better. Tell me, whatdo I have to do? Remove an eyeball, pluck out all her hair, superglue her fingerstogether…?”

Jane huffed. “Let’s start withtaking a sample of her blood, shall we?”

Two minutes in, Darcy exclaimedtriumphantly, “Look at that, her blood is green. Told you there’s somethingwrong with her.”

“Darcy, focus.”

“Her magic is clearly flawed. TheAvengers were duped.”

–o–

The Siren incident turned herentire life upside down. She couldn’t meet Steve’s eyes or Bruce’s orNatasha’s, knowing that they had seen her naked, watched her attack them and mercilesslypull one of their friends underwater. She couldn’t talk to them freely withoutwondering if they’d be triggered by the sight of her.

She knew it hadn’t been her. They knew it, too. But Darcy stillcouldn’t reconcile with the fact that a monster had taken her form to seduce anAvenger.

“I don’t understand what’s soupsetting about this,” Tony wondered when he visited Jane’s lab a few dayslater and saw Darcy moping around. “Shouldn’t you be happy Barnes is warm foryour form? Granted, he’s a first class jerk most of the time but he’s an okayguy overall.”

Out of all the Avengers, Tonyseemed to have moved past the incident really fast. Darcy didn’t know if itdisturbed her or endeared him to her. These days, he was more open to herinterference in his life and had started calling her Darcy instead of Lewis. Itfelt nice. He didn’t judge her, didn’t look at her like she had betrayed himsomehow. Well, neither did the others, but Darcy couldn’t help but feel herpresence made them uncomfortable.

“Tony,” she sighed, shooting hima halfhearted glare. “First of all, he’s not a jerk. Second of all, you don’tunderstand what I’m going through.”

“You’re thinking too much, Darcy.Stop assuming things and get out of this stuffy lab once in a while. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” He winked as he left.“Now forget about the Siren and see the bright side.”

Darcy moaned and thunked her headon her desk. There was nothing bright or positive about what had happened. Sheblamed Steve for telling her about the Siren. Making her think, for a few shorteuphoric moments, that Bucky Barnesdesired her. Clearly he didn’t, and was just as disturbed as she was about itall.

In a bid to clear the air withher, he had taken to showing up at the most unexpected moments. When she washaving breakfast in the kitchen with Thor and Jane. When she was returning fromher afternoon coffee run. When she snuck up to the communal floor to relax whenno one was around.

Darcy knew he was deliberatelyseeking her out. She knew because, while previously she had a hard time findinghim whenever she wanted to hang out, now he was everywhere! He even went so faras to send her a box of her favorite cookies with a small note attached thatread I’m sorry. We need to talk.

But Darcy wasn’t stupid. If allhe wanted to say was sorry, that the Siren incident had been a terrible mistakeand Darcy shouldn’t have been there in the first place, then she had nointerest in talking to him whatsoever. In fact, he had nothing to apologize for. None of what had happened was his fault.Seeing the Siren take Darcy’s form had caused everyone to jump to false conclusionswithout a single consideration of thefact that the darned sea witch could have made a mistake.

It was the reason why Darcywasn’t ready to face Bucky, wasn’t ready to hear him say sorry. She didn’t wanthis pity. Nor was she keen to see the rejection in his eyes. Again.

No. Staying away was the bestoption.

With that thought in mind, shebegan to avoid him. She left the kitchen when he showed up, changed directions whenshe glimpsed him in the distance, avoided the communal floor, ignored his calls,and tossed the box of cookies to Jane, not before snagging a cookie for herselfand stomping up to her room to sulk. Howwas this her life?

She’d have to tell Steve to tellBucky to get off her back. She knew what he wanted to say. He didn’t have to freakingspell it out to her!

–o–

“Jane, can I have the eveningoff?”

“Why?”

“I’m sick.” Darcy faked a cough.

Jane looked skeptical. “Nice try.Why do you really want the eveningoff?”

Darcy sighed and spouted anotherlie. “I have a date.”

Instead of smiling and giving herthumbs up like she always did, Jane frowned. “With whom?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Does Bucky know?”

Her heart skipped a beat at themention of his name but Darcy had successfully learned to control her reactionsover the past few days. “Why would I tell him about my love life?” she saidcasually, taking her phone and getting to her feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow,‘kay?”

“Darcy!” Jane called after her.“What about dinner tonight with the Avengers? You can’t miss that.”

Watch me, she wanted to retort, but she merely grinned and said,“Sorry, Jane. Next time.”

A week ago, Darcy would havejumped at the chance to hang out with the Avengers. Now, it was exactly thekind of thing she was looking to avoid. It wasn’t the only reason why shewanted the evening off, though. The day before, Bucky had wandered onto the labfloor–without warning!–and, forget facing him like a grown-ass woman would,Darcy didn’t even have the courage to smile and make some excuse to leave. No. Shehad chickened out and had hid behind the generator until he went away.

She had a feeling he would comeagain. He had never invaded her work space before, so she felt particularlyannoyed about it. Especially since every time she saw him, a thrill shotthrough her system and her heart rate quickened. She hated herself for it.

“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,” she scoldedherself tiredly, kicking shut the door to her apartment and throwing herself onthe couch. “You can’t run forever… can’t take every evening off… can’t go here…can’t go there… all because of a stupid Siren.”

She lay there for goodness knewhow long, her blank stare tracing indistinct patterns on the ceiling, until theabrupt sound of the doorbell broke her out of her reverie.

“Un momento,” she called,dragging her feet to the door and pulling it open. Only to gasp and slam itshut again.

But before she could shut itcompletely, five metal fingers curled around the edge and pushed the door openwith ease. Shocked and more than a little angry at the intrusion, Darcy scowledat Bucky when he stepped in and carefully closed the door behind him. His eyeswere trained on hers and his gait was determined as he slowly advanced on her.

His voice, when he spoke, wascool, restrained. “How long did you think you could avoid me?”

Darcy bristled at his tone, herprevious reservations about talking to him forgotten. “You were the one whotold me to leave,” she bit out. “I was simply following orders.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed. “Don’t sassme, Darcy.”

“What do you want me to do?” she demanded,crossing her arms defensively. “Sit through your baseless apology and then goour separate ways?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Isthat what you think I want?”

“Why else would you follow me allaround the tower if not to apologize for something that isn’t even your fault?I get that you’re embarrassed but you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“What–no, that’s not at all whyI wanted to talk to you!”

Darcy scoffed. “Why, then? ‘CauseI’m pretty sure it wasn’t just to tell me my hair smells good.”

“It does smell good,” Bucky said quietly, blue eyes momentarilydropping to the locks of hair resting over the swell of her breast.

Darcy faltered, sidetracked bythe sudden shift in conversation. “Um,” she fumbled, blinking rapidly. Hewasn’t supposed to look at her like that. It was making her forget what she wantedto say.

“Darce,” Bucky said, takingadvantage of her temporary speechlessness. “You have no idea what happened that day. Please don’t presume–”

“No,” Darcy said immediately. Shelooked at him, eager to make him understand. “I know what happened. Jane and I figured it out. It’s not your faultthe Siren’s enchantment was crappy. She clearly made a mistake with you.”

“What are you on about?” Buckygrumbled. “She didn’t make any goddamn mistakes! In fact, she did her jobexceptionally well if the fading scar on my torso is any indication.”

Darcy shook her head vehemently.“But her magic was flawed…”

At her words, he shot her a lookof utter disbelief. “Is that what you tell yourself to ease your misplacedhurt? Jesus, Darcy, what’s wrong with you?” He started to pace, his movementsquick and jerky. “That day, when I told you to leave, I wasn’t rejecting you.”

“Bucky, it’s okay. I don’t–”

“No, you need to hear this!” heinsisted.

Darcy clamped her mouth shut andnodded for him to continue.

“That day, when you came in, theSiren… she recognized you.”

“Well, of course she did!”

“Shut up for a minute, will you?”

“Fine.”

Bucky huffed and went on, “Themoment she saw you, she started… humming.”

“Humming?” But she hadn’t heard asingle peep out of the Siren.

“Yeah. It was faint, not likewhen we were at sea, where the music was loud, clear and near impossible toresist.” Bucky’s eyes glazed over as he spoke and Darcy listened to him,stunned into silence. “It was chaos. The Sirens were powerful and unrelenting.They each picked one of us as their target and didn’t back down until eitherthey were dead or we were in the sea with them. Stark may have gotten over itquickly but I know he was scared shitless when Steve succumbed to theenchantment.”

Hearing Bucky recite the fullstory made Darcy suddenly realize how much the mission had affected him. Shehad been so engrossed in her own concerns, she hadn’t stopped to think aboutwhat the Avengers had been through. She remembered the state of Dr. Banner’sclothes that day, the bandage wrapped around Natasha’s forearm, Clint’s brokenleg in a cast, the quiet look on Steve’s face when he had mentioned Peggy.

She also recalled Natasha hittingSteve, telling him to ‘snap out of it’. At the time, Darcy hadn’t paidattention to them. But now she knew. Like Bucky, Steve was hearing the musictoo.

“It was a sound proof ward Starklocked her in,” Bucky continued. “But a hint of that godforsaken tune slipped throughsomehow. It was distracting. I was hurt and you were there… and I couldn’tconcentrate… and–”

Before he could say another word,Darcy stepped closer and placed a hand on his cheek to stop him. She’d heardenough. She didn’t want any more explanations.

“It’s okay,” she whispered,grazing her fingers down his face. The bristles on his cheek felt deliciousagainst the soft skin of her palm. “I get it.”

He covered her hand with his andbrought it to rest over his heart. “I wasn’t rejecting you, Darcy. I justdidn’t want you to see me at my weakest.”

“Okay,” Darcy said simply,ignoring the sudden burst of hope that filled her chest at his words. “Ithought you didn’t want me,” she added in a small voice.

Bucky raised a hand to tuck alock behind her ear, his fingers combing through her hair before coming to cupher neck. “You thought wrong.”

Darcy swayed closer to him,reveling in the tiny sparks of electricity his touch elicited. She caughtherself wishing she had approached him sooner, cleared everything upinstead of avoiding him like a coward. They had wasted so much time playinghide and seek.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth. Shereally wanted him to kiss her, she knew he wantedto, but he made no such move. He just stood there and looked at her like shewas the most amazing thing in the world.

“I tried so hard to stay awayfrom you,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over her forehead. “Ireally did.”

“Why?” Darcy breathed, closingher eyes when he pressed light kisses over her eyelids.

“I didn’t think I was ready for arelationship.” His lips moved down her cheek, as slow as ever. “I didn’t thinkyou’d want one with me anyway.”

“Because you’re the WinterSoldier?”

“Mm-hmm.” He smiled against herjaw when he felt her wrap her arms around his waist and pull him flush againsther.

“I think the Winter Soldier ispretty cool,” Darcy teased. “It’s Bucky Barnes who’s an idiot.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Notgonna argue with that, doll.”

“Good. Now, are you planning to kissme soon…” Darcy stretched up on her tiptoes until her lips were a hair’sbreadth away from his. “Or do I have to place an enchantment on you?”

“No, ma’am, once is enough,”Bucky replied with a grin, leaning down and capturing her lips in a sound kiss.

So, maybe Tony was right. Maybe there was abright side to the Siren incident after all.

Tell me what you wish me to write. I just might write it.

[artemisrisen]

year old drabble; yxd as children

I was abruptly reminded of this drabble that I wrote a year ago about yashiro and doumeki as kindergartners together and never shared, so in the midst of all this chapter 28 oncoming melancholy, I’ll share it now. :) 

Yashiro curled his chubby fist around the stick. “Okay,” he said. “Now you are Pochi-kun.” Doumeki nodded and reached for the stick. Yashiro quickly moved it away. “No, no, no,” he said. “I’m going to throw it and then you’ll run and get it!” “What kind of dog am I?” Doumeki asked. He was already thinking about the wet snout he would have, the paws with clacking nails, the wagging tail. Would his ears be floppy or silky or triangles? Would his tail be long or stubby? He needed to know. “You’re a Golden,” Yashiro informed him. “What’s a Golden?” “It’s a big dog with long legs, and it’s got gold fur and it says, ‘Wan-wan’!” “I see,” Doumeki said, focusing. In his imagination, a Golden resembled his neighbor’s Shiba, except that it was incredibly shiny: like a new coin, or Yashiro’s hair. Also, it was wearing his school uniform. “Say it. Say ‘Wan-wan’.” “Wan-wan,” Doumeki intoned. Yashiro huffed. “No, you sound so bored. Dogs are excited. Here, I’ll do it.” Yashiro barked twice very loudly, and Doumeki thought it was an excellent bark. “That was really good, Yashiro-san.” Yashiro’s eyes briefly dropped to the ground. Doumeki noticed he did that whenever someone praised him; despite his outgoing personality, he was very easily flustered. “OK, now you try,” the little blond insisted. “I’m not as good of a dog as you are,” Doumeki pressed. He wanted to see Yashiro blush, just a little. He felt badly, but he liked to see Yashiro flush so much that he sometimes deliberately said very praiseful things to provoke a reaction. He didn’t really know why. Tonight, he would ask his mother about it. But Yashiro didn’t take the bait. “I’m not a dog,” he said. “I’m a cat. So you have to learn to bark.”

“You’re a cat?” Now this was throwing a real wrench into Doumeki’s plans for play. He thought they would be two dogs running in the yard together, or maybe Yashiro would be his owner. A cat? Why a cat? “I’m a cat,” Yashiro said. “I have a long tail and I’m gray. My name is Mochi.” “Mochi-san,” Doumeki said. Pochi and Mochi. He would be all right with that. That showed the world they still belonged together, even if Yashiro would be sitting on a fence and Doumeki would be running around the yard. “Do we live in the same house?” Yashiro dramatically rolled his eyes. “Yes, Chikara-kun, we live in the same house.” “Are we best friends?” “Stop asking dumb questions!” Yashiro said. “Of course we’re best friends.” “Do you stay outside or inside? What is your favorite food? Do you follow me on walks?” “Pochi-kun,” Yashiro Mochi-san said. “Go get the stick.” And here he chucked the aforementioned stick across the playground, as far as his tiny arm could muster. It went clattering over to the concrete, a little ways away from the grassy area where they currently stood. Doumeki fell to his hands and readied himself to charge as fast as possible on all-fours, but before he could do so, the outside teacher came jogging over. “Yashiro-kun, please do not throw sticks,” Reika-san gently scolded. “We don’t want to hurt your classmates. Please keep the sticks on the ground where they have fallen.” “Yes, sensei,” Yashiro said easily. Despite being frequently reprimanded, it was an open secret that Yashiro was adored by all the teachers. He used this to his advantage now and turned a sweet expression on Reika-san, who visibly melted and patted his head with motherly fondness. “Yes, you’re a good child,” she said. “And Chikara-kun, please stand up properly.” She reached out and offered a hand-up, transforming him from a rambunctious dog to a solemn, two-legged kindergartener. Doumeki knew some of his classmates didn’t like how well-favored Yashiro was. Once, Ryuuzaki poured sand into Yashiro’s milk when they were seated together at lunch-- but Yashiro noticed it of course, and “accidentally” spilled it on Ryuuzaki in return. They were on clean-up duty together afterwards, and Yashiro ended up (again) “accidentally” whacking Ryuuzaki across the face with a rag. Their relationship was a bit turbulent.

Speaking of Ryuuzaki -- like magic, he suddenly appeared behind Reika-san and glared at them from around her skirt. “Ryuu-kun wants to play in the grass, too, yes?” Reika-san said, bringing him around to the front. “We must all get along with our classmates and show we can play harmoniously.” Please show me you can be mature, was her unspoken request. Doumeki felt his stomach churn. Ryuuzaki was one of the bigger kids in class (Doumeki was the biggest) and always bothering Yashiro; but more than that, he seemed to be desperate for Yashiro’s attention. He didn’t want Ryuuzaki coming over to interrupt their time together, but it seems like it couldn’t be helped. Reika-san patted Doumeki’s head as well, and then walked back to her position on the concrete. She was far too trusting, as far as Doumeki was concerned. “What are you two weirdos doing?” Ryuuzaki asked, still frowning. Even just talking normally he was so loud, as loud as Nanahara in the next-door classroom (Nanahara could be heard even now in the distance, shrieking that he was Godzilla). “We’re pla--” Doumeki started, but Yashiro cut in. “We’re playing Knights and Princes,” he said, as if that was the game all along. “That sounds really stupid,” Ryuuzaki scoffed. Then, “How do you play?” “There is a Knight, who is very strong,” said Yashiro. “And he fights monsters and helps people who are in trouble. He’s on an adventure to save the Prince.” Doumeki was always deeply impressed by Yashiro’s ability to conjure up games and stories out of nothing. This one sounded exciting, even more-so than when they played Policeman and Yakuza. “And there is a Prince,” Yashiro continued, “who is trapped in a castle. He’s very lonely and scared, and can’t get out on his own.” He pointed to Doumeki. “He’s the Knight--” the finger turned to his own nose, “--and I’m the Prince.” Doumeki felt his chest fill with lightness. He was the Knight. He was going to rescue Yashiro. He could already see the tower shrouded in mist and covered in ropey vines, with Yashiro’s silhouette in the high tower window. “That’s not fair!” Ryuuzaki said. “That’s only two people.” “You said it was stupid,” Yashiro said, too innocently. “It’s even stupider that you can’t think of three different parts!” Ryuuzaki yelled. “Dumbass Yashiro!” “Then come closer to me,” Yashiro said. Ryuuzaki and Doumeki both stilled. “Why?” the former asked, suspiciously. “I’ll tell you when you come over,” Yashiro said calmly. “If you do something like put grass in my shorts, I’ll punch you,” Ryuuzaki threatened, but he walked towards the other. “Now hold onto me,” he said. Ryuuzaki, with far more hesitation than he ever showed before, grabbed Yashiro’s arms. “No, more like -- my stomach,” Yashiro said, and moved the other boy’s arms to position around his waist. Doumeki was rooted in his spot. This game was rapidly becoming his least favorite game of all time. Shouldn’t the Knight hold onto the Prince? What was Ryuuzaki supposed to be doing?

“What are we even doing?” Ryuuzaki asked. Yashiro, in response, wrapped his own arms around Ryuuzaki and suddenly tightened. “You’re the Dragon who has kidnapped me,” Yashiro said. Then-- “DOUMEKI, HELP ME! SAVE ME FROM THE DRAGON!” Doumeki charged at the group at once, and Ryuuzaki screamed.

[ashnadir]

rydenbolt:

“No, dumbass, nothin’ can teach ya that, unless ya lived it. The show was just done in collaboration with former homicide detective who worked for Baltimore Police Dep for twenty years using surveillance tech in drug market investigation. It can provide some insight.” He sighed, rolling his eyes a little. Whatever. He wasn’t looking for understanding or anything like that. He just hated when people took a crap, but didn’t have the fucking courtesy to bring some toilet paper to wipe their ass with.

He let Iann draw the ward on him, blinking at the man while they waited. He didn’t feel any different but then again, he felt just fine before too, until everything around him tried to kill him. Broad shoulders relaxed a little - seemed like this ‘ward’ worked.

Nevertheless, his eyes narrowed at the man. “Yeaaah, I changed my mind about that…” Better send Dani a message instead… Sure, Iann might legit need all those things, but the way he cheerfully asked for them didn’t put Ryden at ease one bit.

Carefully crossing his bulky arms over his chest so he wouldn’t erase the ward Iann drew, he heaved a small sigh, surprisingly calm and accepting of what had happened. “Yeah, I figured. Why didn’t ya warn me though? You look smart. How come ya didn’t do any research, yo? When you deal, ya don’t just go selling the stuff anywhere. Ya ask around whose turf ya might be standin’ on. Or else, ya gonna get beat. Same shit here, boss. Do your fuckin’ research and take care of your employees. Common fucking sense. Prick.” He huffed, but all things considering, he was taking this pretty damn well.

A thick eyebrow rose at Iann’s question, but it was immediately followed by a sly smirk. The young wolf shoved a hand into the pocket of his own jeans, fishing out Iann’s van keys. The reason he stole them was simple - if it turned out Iann couldn’t help him, or wasn’t able to, then Ryden’s next plan was to get out of this goddamn town. As uneducated in the world of supernatural as he was, even Ryden could figure out that this town in itself was ‘magical’. Maybe the curse he’d contracted was tied to it. Seeing Iann’s van parked at the front of the inn got Ryden thinking that, if he drove out of town, maybe the curse wouldn’t follow. With Princess out of order, he needed a ride. If he was mistaken, then, well, he always thought he’d die in a car crash anyway. 

Ryden really seemed into this TV show, and Iann smiled blandly as the werewolf elaborated.  “Insight, right right.  I’ll keep that in mind, but, ah, TV shows aren’t exactly my go-to for ‘insight’, unfortunately.  No matter how remarkable they are,”  he rushed to say, since he didn’t want Ryden getting even more defensive about it.  “And I’m sure it’s amazing, kid.  I’m just not a TV kind of guy.”

He had no intention of letting the poor bastard die on his watch, so he shrugged amiably about the whole mother-bequeathing.  “No more money for mummy?  Or you’re just handing that responsibility over to someone else?” Iann asked.  Because even if Ryden wasn’t going to die today, chances were likely he was going to die.  So Iann chided him instead.

 “How come you didn’t have this set up before, anyway?  I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve encountered Mr Death's friendly scythe.  It’s like investing for your retirement except it‘s more like your ‘Wire’ version of it, amiright?”

‘Oh my god, I’m getting a lecture from this kid on how to make deals.’  This was incredible and adorable, and Iann blinked and listened to Ryden’s life lesson, paying attention to what the kid was saying.  Not because it was new to Iann, but because it gave him insight he actually cared about: not a TV show, but directly about Ryden himself.  What he found particularly noteworthy was that Ryden referred to himself as an ‘employee’ and therefore someone Iann needed to feel responsible for.

It was...oddly sweet.  

He’d known about the curse, and he knew it would likely affect Ryden (why Iann needed a hire in the first place, to dig but also in case the casket was cursed.  He theorized the curse would attack the digger, and it did) so the research was indeed done. He didn’t tell Ryden about it because, well.  The kid didn’t even know what the fuck he was, never mind that curses and magic were real.  

But here Ryden was, telling him to look after his employees. ‘Tare care of your employees,’ the werewolf lectured plaintively. Iann’s heart melted slightly and he clapped Ryden’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right.  I should’ve taken better care of you.  I won’t let you die, kid.  That I can guarantee.  And how about I give you a bonus on top of it for all your trouble, hm?  An honest bonafide bonus, no strings attached this time.  Jesus christ almighty, you’re turning me into a sap, you wily little fuck,” Iann said, but he meant it in a playful way.

When Ryden pulled out the keys, Iann stared blankly at them for a moment, then patted his jacket and jeans pockets until he realized.  “Ah-ha!  Nice one, Dodger,”  Iann said, clearly impressed.  “But we probably shouldn’t take my baby.  We don’t want to get recognized,hm?  C’mon, follow me.”

He figured (now that Ryden had established himself as an ‘employee’) that he could explain to the kid while they walked.

“There’s a coven of witches, who have this specialty potion that effectively mimics death.  Have you ever pretended to die?” Iann asked conversationally, as they got out of the basement and walked up the hill, towards the University.  

“I have.  Not - not using this potion, but in other ways.  Anyway, you have to die, er. In order to not die.  And I have to prepare something valuable to bury with you.  We’ll get both from the coven - and that’s where I’ll need your light fingers.”

Cursed || Iann&Ryden

[zeroviraluniverse-blog]

The Oakland A's aren't nearly as boring as you think

Visit Now - http://zeroviral.com/the-oakland-as-arent-nearly-as-boring-as-you-think/

The Oakland A's aren't nearly as boring as you think

MESA, Ariz. — The Houston Astros are baseball’s reigning World Series champions. Shohei Ohtani is sucking up so much attention at Los Angeles Angels‘ camp, Mike Trout can barely get a mention. The Seattle Mariners have three potential Hall of Famers on the roster in Robinson Cano, Felix Hernandez and Ichiro Suzuki. And the Texas Rangers have the makings of a terrific buddy movie if Bartolo Colon and Tim Lincecum — Big Sexy and the Freak — are both on the Opening Day roster.

The Oakland Athletics, the other team in the American League West pecking order, keep plugging away under the same tired narrative. When they’re not part of a grievance filed by the Players Association alleging four teams with hoarding revenue-sharing money, the A’s are on a seemingly endless quest for a new ballpark with modern amenities and adequate plumbing.

From the Cubs’ ace not enough people notice to the AL’s answer to Nolan Arenado, these under-the-radar guys help teams win.

Everyone talks about Tampa and Pittsburgh not spending, but the bigger issue is that neither of them has been good recently at developing players.

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The A’s have finished last in the division for three straight seasons, and they lack the established starting pitching to make the big leap to contention this season. But an improved farm system and an intriguing crop of young major leaguers give them reason to hope.

“It’s incumbent upon us to put together a team good enough for people to talk about,” general manager David Forst said. “We understand that. But I think the guys on the field play with a little chip on their shoulder because of it. There have been times over the last 20 years that it’s worked to our advantage to have that.”

The A’s have traded away Josh Donaldson, Sonny Gray, Yoenis Cespedes and blue-collar hero Stephen Vogt in recent years, and the players on the 25-man roster won’t attract much attention as they pass through hotel lobbies and airport terminals this season. Still, a day at Hohokam Stadium reveals a likeable and close-knit group with some compelling storylines.

Here are five reasons why this year’s Athletics are a lot more interesting than people think:

Oakland is home to baseball’s next great defensive third baseman

Matt Chapman grew up in Lake Forest, California, and played in the same little league with Nolan Arenado. They both went to El Toro High School and played shortstop for the Chargers. When Arenado was a senior, Chapman looked on as a sophomore and learned all about the importance of determination and a strong work ethic.

Is there something in the Lake Forest water that breeds lockdown third-base defenders?

“Maybe our infield was so bad in high school, it seems easy when we’re on good fields,” Chapman said with a laugh. “Don’t quote me on that. My high school coach might kill me.”

How much of a force is Chapman in the field? Ryan Christenson, Oakland’s new bench coach, played with six-time Gold Glove Award winner Eric Chavez, and says he thinks Chapman is better at the hot corner.

An American League evaluator echoes that sentiment, ranking Chapman on a par with Arenado and Manny Machado, the twin gold standards of third-base defensive excellence. The early numbers bear it out: Last year, Chapman contributed a stunning plus-19 defensive runs saved in 84 games with Oakland.

“I’m not saying he’s better than those other guys,” the evaluator said. “But he belongs in the conversation.”

The A’s also rave about Chapman’s leadership skills and “it” factor. He entered the big league clubhouse on June 15 and seemed comfortable from his first at-bat against the Yankees’ Jordan Montgomery.

Chapman asserted himself during a testy encounter with the Angels in September. Los Angeles catcher Juan Graterol was convinced the Oakland hitters were peeking at his signs or getting signs relayed from second base, and he made his displeasure apparent to several hitters. As Chapman settled into the batter’s box, he told Graterol to knock it off, earning an ejection from umpire Mike Everitt and instant respect from his teammates.

“He’s a leader,” Khris Davis told reporters after the game. “He’s a natural at it. He might be a rookie, but one day he’s going to lead the way.”

Chapman’s success as a hitter will hinge on his ability to tighten up his swing, make more consistent contact and hold his own against breaking stuff. He was a .244 hitter in the minors, and he batted .234 and struck out 28.2 percent of the time as a rookie. But he gets the ball in the air, and his confident demeanor suggests he’ll address the deficiencies in his game.

“With every team I’ve been on, I’ve wanted to be a guy that people look at as a leader or say, ‘That guy is doing things the right way. I want to be like him,’ ” Chapman said. “I haven’t dug too much into it. I don’t know if there’s a specific role where somebody gets a thing on their jersey. But I want to be there for anybody on our team, just like I’d expect them to be there for me and help us to be the best, most successful players we can.”

And Rhys Hoskins West

Or maybe Rhys Hoskins is Matt Olson East, and people just don’t know it yet.

In mid-September, the A’s traveled to Philadelphia for a three-game interleague series. At one point, Hoskins reached first base and exchanged salutations with Olson, and the two young sluggers shared some thoughts on their late-season power binges.

In Stephen Piscotty (No. 25) and Matt Olson, the A’s have one of baseball’s most heartwarming stories and one of the game’s most intriguing power threats. Christian Petersen/Getty Images

“He was aware of what I was doing and obviously I was aware of what he was doing,” Olson said. “His name was plastered everywhere. We just talked to each other and he asked if I was getting hounded by the media. I was like, ‘Uhh, honestly, no.’ I feel like nobody knows. It was good. I told him, ‘Stay healthy, keep it up, and good luck the rest of the way.’ ”

Hoskins went on a riveting run with 11 homers in 79 at-bats in August before Olson topped it with 13 long balls in 79 ABs in September. For the season, Olson averaged one homer every 7.88 at-bats �� the fourth-best ratio ever for a hitter with at least 200 plate appearances. Only Barry Bonds (in 2001), and Mark McGwire (in 1998 and 2000) have surpassed it.

By the end of the season, Olson had accumulated 24 home runs and 23 singles. Try wrapping your mind around that for a second.

Olson grew up in Lilburn, Georgia, about 40 minutes from Atlanta, and he played on the same youth league fields that spawned Clint Frazier, Austin Meadows and Lucas Sims. An older brother went to Harvard, and Olson was bound for Vanderbilt until the A’s enticed him to sign with a $1.08 million bonus in the 2012 draft. Like his boyhood favorite, Chipper Jones, he opted to jump right into the fray as a teen.

Olson’s setup is a bit unorthodox, with his hands held away from his body. But he has made the necessary adjustments to become less vulnerable to hard stuff on the inner half. The next big item on his agenda is improving upon that .184 batting average in 56 MLB plate appearances vs. lefties. The A’s plan to give Olson as much time as he needs to figure it out.

The A’s are home to the home run trivia answer you never would have guessed

Forst and executive VP Billy Beane pulled off a heist in 2016 when they traded minor leaguers Jake Nottingham and Bubba Derby to Milwaukee for Khris Davis, a young outfielder who was just coming into his power potential. Last year, Davis joined Jimmie Foxx as the second player in Athletics history to record back-to-back 40-homer seasons. Over the past two years, his 85 homers are second to Giancarlo Stanton‘s 86 among MLB hitters.

“You could make a lot of money asking people, ‘Who has the second-most home runs in the big leagues behind Stanton?’ ” an American League scout said.

The power production is doubly impressive because of Davis’ unimposing physical stature. He’s a compact 5-11, 200 pounds, and he generates a lot of power with his hips and a strong lower half. He has hit 45 of those 85 homers at Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum, even though the park is notoriously challenging for sluggers. (Last year, when it ranked as the 11th-most generous home run park in the majors, was a notable exception).

“You could make a lot of money asking people, ‘Who has the second-most home runs in the big leagues behind Stanton?”

A major league scout on Khris Davis’ power production

Davis has struck up a bond with his namesake, Baltimore’s Chris Davis, who has shared some encouraging words with him during casual conversations at first base. The Orioles’ Davis has a $161 million contract, an All-Star Game appearance and two home run titles in his portfolio. His counterpart in Oakland launches homers with regularity and remains anonymous on the national stage.

“I get some ‘his’, and people drop the nickname ‘Crush’ on me,” Davis said. “I’ve been in restaurants in Oakland and people are nice enough to take care of my meal. I truly appreciate the hospitality and the perks like that. It never really happens on the road. You would really have to know baseball to know my face.”

Davis received a pleasant surprise recently when informed that his No. 1 batter similarity score on Baseball-reference.com is Bo Jackson, who was anything but anonymous in his dual-sport career in baseball and the NFL.

“That’s’ awesome,” Davis said. “I had his poster when I was a kid. He was an amazing player.”

They have baseball’s most heartwarming family story

In December, the A’s traded minor leaguers Yairo Munoz and Max Schrock to St. Louis for outfielder Stephen Piscotty, a former first-round draft pick fresh off a down year. Piscotty’s OPS declined to .708 from .800 the previous season, and he hit only nine homers in 401 plate appearances.

Piscotty was understandably distracted by family issues back home in Pleasanton, California. His mother, Gretchen, was diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis in May 2017, and her illness weighed on him from afar.

“I feel like there’s been a big weight kind of lifted off my shoulders,” Piscotty said. “ALS is tough. It moves fast, unfortunately — especially the one my mom has. It would have been really hard to go into a season knowing I wasn’t going to come back for eight months. That was pretty hard to swallow. When the trade happened, that was a huge relief.

“I’m gonna be living at home. We’ll have musical chairs with the rooms with my two younger brothers, but yeah, there’s a room open. And that’s where I want to be. At our house right now, there’s always someone there helping us, and I can be one of those people. That’s a great feeling. There’s nothing worse than being far away and wanting to help, and you just can’t be there.”

While Forst, Beane and Cardinals general manager John Mozeliak were all cognizant of the off-field ramifications, the deal made sense for both sides. The Cardinals were comfortable enough with their outfield alignment of Marcell Ozuna, Tommy Pham and Dexter Fowler to move Piscotty and Randal Grichuk over the winter. The A’s, who ranked 25th in the majors with a .704 OPS against left-handed pitching a year ago, get a young outfielder with on-base ability and a contract that keeps him under club control for an affordable $30.5 million through 2022. The A’s previously had Piscotty on their radar when he was at Stanford, playing ball and working toward his degree in atmosphere and energy engineering.

“I talked to Stephen right after we made the trade and I said, ‘Look, this was a baseball trade. We needed a right-handed hitting outfielder, and you fit perfectly for us. That said, I’m thrilled for your family — that you’re able to come home and your mom is able to see you play,’ ” Forst said.

Piscotty, 26, got engaged during the offseason. His fiancée will move into the family home in Pleasanton with him, and she has an apartment in San Francisco where he can slip away for what he calls some occasional “me time.” Piscotty is close enough to home that he has been able to get back to California and see his mom during an off day or two in the Cactus League, and the publicity generated by his story has helped raise more than $20,000 for the ALS Therapy Development Institute.

“The stars definitely aligned,” he said. “I felt good about coming out here and joining this young team. I think we’re going to surprise a lot of people.”

The Little Big Unit is in camp

A.J. Puk wore his hair short as a high schooler in Iowa and at the University of Florida, before deciding to let it ride with a long, red mullet that’s as polarizing as “Moneyball.” Puk says 50 percent of people like it, and the other 50 percent, not so much.

From his frame to his stuff — and that hair — A.J. Puk stands out on the mound with every pitch he throws. Steve Mitchell-USA TODAY Sports

“It’s a lot like ‘Bull Durham,’ ” Forst said. “When you win 20 in the show, you can wear your hair however you want and people think you’re creative.”

The Athletics have a lot riding on Puk. They selected him with the sixth pick in the 2016 draft and signed him to a $4.07 million bonus before sending him on a developmental jaunt across America. In 157 2/3 innings with the Vermont Lake Monsters, Stockton (California) Ports and Midland (Texas) RockHounds, Puk has struck out 224 batters.

Puk grew up a Jon Lester fan and is accustomed to comparisons with Andrew Miller and Chris Sale, tall thin, lefties with unorthodox looks. Melvin acknowledged the five-time Cy Young-award winning elephant in the room this spring when he said a lot of things about Puk remind him of Randy Johnson.

“You can’t help but think that,” Melvin said. “There just aren’t too many guys who look like that. They’re a little bit closer to you when they deliver the ball. They throw hard, the hair, the whole bit. We don’t want A.J. to feel like he has to live up to a comp like that. He has pretty good stuff, though.”

Melvin, who managed Johnson in Arizona in 2007-08, arranged for a one-on-one meeting between the Big Unit and Puk last year. Puk has made significant progress with the help of minor league pitching coordinator Gil Patterson, who introduced him to a hybrid stretch-windup delivery that allows him to maintain his release point and throw strikes with all the pitches in his arsenal.

“I can’t imagine it’s going to be long before he’s an option for us,” Forst said.

If and when Puk joins the big club, his distinctive name and look could make him a rarity on the Athletics’ roster: He might attract enough of a following to snag a free meal someplace other than Oakland.