#She's a child alter of ours but I have no idea how else to tag it so this is what it'll be! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 10- The White Violin Part 1

Summary: Vanya’s finally come to realize her full power, taking the Academy with her. Now it’s up to the Hargreeves siblings and you, to find and stop her from causing the apocalypse. Unfortunately you run into a bit of trouble along the way.

Masterlist- where all the other chapters are⚔️

Warning: Violence, Y/N is a stabby all around badass so it gets bloody

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

Suddenly another wave of energy seems to pulse through the house, shaking the very foundation. Your eyes snap up to the sound of crumbling paint and pieces of the ceiling starting to crack and actively deteriorate. In an instant you’ve shot to your feet, turning your head to the upstairs balcony when you hear footsteps running on the wooden floor. You can hear Klaus and Diego calling out for Grace, but their shouting is soon silenced by more rubble clattering to the ground, shaking the house once again.

You race up the stairs to the second floor balcony where you just heard the distinct voices of Klaus and Diego. But by the time you get up there, both of them have disappeared. You look around the area in confusion, as more and more of the building cracks and breaks around you. Without warning a giant chuck of ceiling breaks free from the rest of its placement, hurling itself down at you. You dodge it, sliding on the tiled floor in the process. When another chunk falls down on your shoulder, knocking you harshly onto the ground, fortunately when your face is temporarily pressed to the wooden floorboards. You catch the scent of Diego and Klaus, their trail leading out to an open window. That’s now blocked by flaming debris of wood and whatever else. Dammit.

Your eyes scan the wall, finding another window you make a break for it, throwing your arm in front of your face to better prepare for impact. A moment later you feel a pressure and then tiny shards of glass flying all around you, as you jump out the window. For a few seconds you blissfully free-fall in the cool night air, before the hard concrete gives you a rude awakening. Darkness. When you open your eyes about 10 seconds later, you gasp in pain as your hip, rip-cage, and the left side of your skull moves around to fall back into its original placement. You watch as your previously broken arm, fuses back into place with a distinctly gory bob sound. With no time to spare you jump to your feet, dodging more pieces of the dying Academy.

When you make it round the corner, the whole entirety of the Academy has been reduced to rubble and flames. “First mom. Now Pogo. Where the hell his Y/N?!” Shouts Diego on the verge of tears. You run through the fallen bricks to the sound of his voice, finally spotting everyone, still alive and well, for the most part. “Diego!” You scream, racing over to him, he looks up at you with a downcast face before it turns into a relieved frown.

A second later, Five is jumping over a destroyed couch, “Guys! This is it. The apocalypse is still on. The world ends today.” He announces quickly, getting closer to the five of you, who all stare at him in troubled confusion. “I thought you said it was over.” Wonders Luther. Five starts to unfold a newspaper, “I was wrong, okay? This newspaper, I found it in the future the day I got stuck. The headline hasn’t changed.” He explains wide eyed.

“No, that doesn’t mean anything. The time could’ve been altered since that newspaper came out this morning.” Diego says, denying everything Five is telling you guys, not wanting to believe in the fact that the world just might end after all.

“You’re not listening to me. When I found it, I assumed this place came down along with everything else. But here we are. The Moon’s still shining, the Earth is still in one piece, but not the Academy.” Klaus suddenly snatches the crinkled newspaper from Five’s hand, “I’m confused.” He states baffled, Five furrows his brows in frustration, “Then listen to me, you idiot! Vanya destroys the Academy before the apocalypse. I thought Harold Jenkins was the cause, but he was just the fuse. Vanya is the bomb.” He exclaims pausing for a moment to let the information sink in, “Vanya causes the apocalypse.”

Right after Five finishes laying down the hard truth about Vanya and the apocalypse, you look up to hear the chopping of a helicopters blades. A giant spotlight is then intrusively beaming on all of you. “We have to find Vanya. Regroup at the Super Star. Go!” Shouts Luther over the blaring noise, you don’t have to think twice, as you grab Diego’s hand. The two of you bolting for the nearby bowling alley.

——

All of you stand around a table at the bowling alley, the atmosphere is tense, everyone's emotions all over the place as to what just occurred and what to do next. Luther stares at the floor with a hard and concentrated expression, as you look up to observe his face from your spot next to Diego. You suddenly narrow your eyes at him, your jaw clenching in growing irritation. Diego’s gaze snaps over to your sudden tenseness, his eyebrows rising in suspicion when your fists start to clench.

“You drugged me you dick!” You bitterly snap at Luther, everyone’s faces go from yours to Luther’s rightfully wide eyed one. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing appears to come out as he just stands there awkwardly avoiding everyone’s prying eyes. You let out an agitated snort, standing up from your seat next to Diego, Luther takes a step back while studying your hostile movements.

“I have half a mind to slap the ever present dumbass out of you, but I can’t promise that I’ll be able to stop myself after that.” You state through clenched teeth, pausing for a moment to collect yourself from your rising anger.

“I..uh...Y/N, I didn’t kn..”

“No! Shut up, your speaking privileges have been revoked, so listen here. First you put Vanya in a goddamn cage, then you forcefully stop everyone from getting her out, and then when I try to help her...you fucking drug me. Were you wacked to many times on your head as a child, because if you can’t find your common sense I’ll frickin’ help you find it.” You aggressively state at a visibly sweating Luther, he takes another small step back, honestly afraid that you might indeed hold true to your word. “I don’t know what kinda thought process you had when you were thinking that any of this was a good idea, but clearly it has given us a one way ride into the fucking apocalypse and I did not ask you to share your tickets.” Diego suddenly reaches up to grip your left arm before you’re able to move out of reach and bitch-slap the stupid right out of Luther. Your head quickly turns to look down at Diego, “I’m not...I’m not going to hurt him D, at least not yet.” You tell him, whispering the last part with quiet malice. Diego sends you a sympathetic nod, still hurting from the destructive and violent demise of Grace.

“I know, and you have every right to be angry, as do the rest of us. But, Y/N this isn’t going to get us anywhere.” Your brows furrow in frustration as you anxiously bite your lip. Slightly taken aback by Diego’s ability to keep his shit together, well at least for the time being. You still have no idea that not even ten minutes ago he was almost in tears when he couldn’t find you in the rubble of the fallen Umbrella Academy.

You let out a tired sigh, looking down at the floor for a second before bringing your troubled gaze back up to a distraught Luther. “You’re lucky Diego’s here.” You warn him with a glare as you sit down next to Diego once again, “I’d throw a bowling ball right at your fucking face.” You growl at him, crossing your arms and legs in annoyance while leaning into Diego’s side. He puts a gloved hand on your thigh in an act of earnest comfort, your tenseness falters ever so lightly as you scowl at the dirty bowling alley floor. The others keep to themselves, everyone shrinking into their own worlds to think for a couple minutes. While you continue to lean into Diego’s warm side and brood like a troubled lighthouse keeper waiting for her husband to come back from the sea. The atmosphere between the six of you still considerably awkward and stressed.

“Look, I hate to be the one to say this, but everyone needs to prepare.” Carefully starts Luther, making up a new plan on the spot, as all of your heads turn to look at him.

“For what?” Asks Diego.

“To do whatever it takes to stop Vanya.” Allison wacks Luther on the chest before he can finish, he looks at her offended, “We may not have a choice Allison.” He snaps without any real anger towards her. “Bullshit. There’s always options.” Adds Diego, sitting opposite of Luther in a bowling alley chair.

“Yeah, like what?” Grumbles Five, Diego looks down for a second to think, “I don’t know?” You roll your eyes, no one is getting anywhere fast at this rate. “Whatever we happen to decide in the next three years. We need to find Vanya.” You tell them, standing up from your chair and crossing your arms, trying to think of something that could work.

“Or...here. Look at this.” Says Klaus, opening up the newspaper he’s been reading, wider for everyone to see, you all crowd around him. “That’s right. Her concert is tonight.” Says Diego, referring to the obvious newspaper ad, a big colored picture of Vanya with her violin, as well as the time and place of the concert.

You hear footsteps approaching from behind, “Hello. I hate to intrude, but my manager says if you’re not here to bowl, you gotta leave.” Says the bowling alley employee, a tad bit passive aggressively if you’re being honest.

“Who’s turn?” You deadpan, as Luther grabs a ball, chucking it across the lanes, evidently making a lucky strike. The lady turns around to leave, unsure of how to respond to that.

Allison quickly scribbles down something in her notes. She’s our sister. “We’re the only ones capable of stopping this. We have a responsibility to Dad.” States Luther, of course he’d bring Reginald into this.

“To Dad? I’ve heard enough about...” Diego snaps as Luther stands up, interrupting him, “He sacrificed everything to bring us back together.”

You want to argue against him, but oddly enough, he’s right. “I’m with Luther on this one. We can’t give her a chance to fight back. There are billions of lives at stake. We’re past trying to save just one.” Five tells all of you, it’s a terrible and tragic thing to hear, but this is the whole world or Vanya. No one ever said the right decision would be the easiest one.

“Hey, you know, guys, uh...maybe I could help.” Klaus randomly announces, Luther jumping at the chance to turn him down, “Now is not the time Klaus.” He says sternly, not wanting to deal with Klaus’ usual nonsense. “Let him finish.” Retorts Diego, waving Luther off. “He saved my life today.” Finishes Diego, not what you thought he would say, clearly neither did Luther, who questions Klaus about it.

“Yeah, yeah I did....take credit for it. In fact, the real hero...was Ben.” All of you stare at Klaus doubtful, oddly enough you could have swore you heard a muffled reply to Klaus’ rambling. What the? You haven’t been able to hear Ben’s ghost since before Klaus’ addictions muddied up the connection to much, considering your senses are only able to hear Ben when Klaus is near. He’s literally a human Ouija board you swear.

“Today...listen. Today, he punched me in the face. And earlier at the house, he was the one who saved Diego’s life, not me.” Explains Klaus, he’s not lying, you’re truly intrigued now more then ever.

“You are unbelievable, Klaus.” Complains Luther, dumbfounded.

“You want proof, is that it? All right. I’ll give you proof.” Klaus then picks up a pink bowling ball, holding it in his two hands, getting ready to throw it, “All right, it’s showtime, baby. Catch!” He exclaims at the nearby empty space between Allison and a rack of bowling balls.

He throws the ball, it falling right past Allison as it makes a loud thud when it hits the floor. Luther is not amused one bit by Klaus’ shenanigans, in return for his rudeness, Klaus accidentally lets slip the fact that Luther was nicer before he got laid. Earning wide eyes from Allison and the rest of you, Luther snaps at Klaus to shut up, but he just makes it worse when adding in the part where it was an accident cause Luther was actually high.

Allison face is a mix of amazement and disappointment all in one as she abruptly turns around, walking away from rest of you, while Luther trails behind her trying to explain himself. You let them talk it out, as you sit down in one of the doubled side-by-side plastic chairs, choosing the empty spot next to Diego. Klaus is in front of the both of you, Five in his own seat next to him. Out of nowhere, a random but incredibly bubbly plump lady and her son walk up to you, Diego, Klaus, and Five.

“Excuse me. But it’s my son, Kenny’s birthday today and...um..wouldn’t your son be happier playing with kids his own age?” She says expectantly, with the largest and most annoying of smiles, “Assuming it’s okay with you and your husband.” She asks you sweetly, looking between you, Diego, and Five. Klaus looks to the two of you with raised eyebrows as he covers his mouth to hide a muffled laugh, Diego focuses on her before turning to you with an agitated and puzzled glance.

You give her a tight lipped smile about to say some smart-ass remark when Five beats you to it, “I would rather chew off my own foot.” He growls through clenched teeth. The lady’s face falls as you look over at him with a fake frown, turning to this lady with an equally false beaming smile.

“Maybe some other time, he gets cranky when he doesn’t have his apple juice before 8 o’clock.” She gives you a knowing motherly nod, as she hastily turns around with her son, walking away from all of you.

“Y/N what the hell was that shit.” Snaps Five as Klaus and Diego let out muffled laughter. You turn to him with a smirk, “What? You just missed out on an opportunity to make your first friend in 45 years.” He looks elsewhere with a sigh,”Yeah cause I need friends, you people are enough to handle already.”

Suddenly Five gets distracted by some swishing noise, getting up to check on it elsewhere in the facility. You, Klaus, and Diego don’t care enough to follow.

You slouch back in the small uncomfortable bowling alley seat, Diego leaning in close to your side with a mischievous grin. “If we had a kid, I hope they wouldn’t be like Five.” You look up at him, “If we had a kid like Five we’d have to just throw the whole kid away. And FYI, I just hope they aren’t like you when it comes to stubbornness.” You sass back, he gives you a half offended look. You just smile at him as he looks back adoringly at you, “Well I guess we won’t even need to have a wedding, that lady already confirmed you’re my wife so.” You snort at his remark, “Then if you happen to end up dead somewhere, do I get widow compensation money benefits to go along, cause I would love an apartment overlooking the city.” You ask him, giving him a playful nudge, Diego just shakes his head with a smile. “I’ll get us that apartment someday...its coming I promise.” He assures you, lightly poking your side, you just roll your eyes in reply.

He leans back, throwing an arm over your shoulder as the two of you look around the bowling alley for anything suspicious. You lean yourself closer into his side, enjoying this small moment of silent affection. “Just so the two of you know, I want to be invited to this wedding.” Adds Klaus out of nowhere, you glance over to him with a nod, “You can be the best man.” You tell him, his face instantly lights up, already thinking of some extravagant outfit and speech to have ready. Diego just chuckles at the two of you, thinking his own pleasant thoughts for that day. Hoping that it will eventually come to light, if the apocalypse doesn’t ruin everything first.

“All right, where’s Five?” Wonders Luther, walking back up to the three of you.

“He left.” Says Diego, standing up again, you doing the same.

“Oh, for the love of...where’d he go?”

“Didn’t say.” You add, assuming it must of been important if he just teleported away without saying anything first. Or maybe he had to take a huge shit, but who knows.

“Well, we’re not waiting around for him. The concert starts in 30 minutes.” States Luther.

“All right, so what’s the plan?” Diego asks him, although you’re doubtful it’s going to be a good one. Luther pauses for a moment, “Well, I think that, uh.....we go to the Icarus Theater.” You cut in, “That’s a place....not a plan.” He opens his mouth to say something but decides otherwise.

“What? Is that all you got?” Accuses Diego, walking in closer to Luther, “Look, you wanna be Number One, fine, but you’re gonna have to get us on the same page, because right now, we’re all over the place.” Luther looks at Diego almost bored, clearly getting that he’s right, but never wanting to fully admit it, until now, “You’re right....We need a plan.”

As Luther is finishing up his sentence, your eyes snap up to the scent of ammunition, your nose locating the bullets like a shark smelling a drop of blood in the ocean. Your brows furrow as you squint your eyes to the darkly clad gas masked looking motherfuckers with guns, sneaking their way into the bowling alley. If they were trying to be subtle, mission sorely failed. They don’t look like they’re from around here, and you have a strong hunch they’re not here to bowl. You don’t even have time to warn anyone before these bastards start raining bullets like there’s no tomorrow, and quit literally there might not be one.

You take cover behind the bowling alley tables, these ones conveniently cover all the way to the floor, giving you and the rest of the Hargreeves a place to hide. “Who the hell are these guys?” Shouts Diego wide eyed, he’s sitting to your right, as Luther sits to your left.

“Maybe they’re here for Kenny’s birthday!” Yells Klaus, covering his ears from the intrusive racket. Your own ears are bounding with each gun that goes off, you’re quickly getting pissed. “No, I’m pretty sure they’re here for us!” Answers Luther, as more bullets continue to mercilessly search for their breathing targets. “The fuck do we do now? All I’ve got is my boot knife.” You tell the four of them, suddenly Diego jumps up, throwing a dagger into the chest of one of the weird masked guys. In the process the lights flip to night mode, neon lasers are flashing every which way. Luther stands up, launching a heavy bowling ball into one of them, knocking them out.

You stand up yourself, pulling your pencil-long silver dagger from out of your hidden boot pocket, Diego continues to throw his knives while Luther grabs more bowling balls, chucking them at the shooters. You jump up on the table in front of you, front flipping through the air and gracefully landing in a crouched position as you slash your dagger into the Achilles tendon of the closest masked shooter. Slitting it open in one clean motion, he instantly falls to the floor where you then throw your hands tightly around his neck and snap it with little effort. You dart to the left next, vaulting yourself onto the pool table. Your left hand holds you up as you swing your legs and body over the table, sucker punching your next target in the head with a powerful kick.

He falls to the ugly looking carpet with a thud, you flip backwards avoiding the bullets from his friend who’s to your right. He misses you, shooting his unconscious companion in the back, evidently killing him. That works for you, with no time to spare you launch yourself at him, grabbing his head from behind with your left arm. You roughly tilt it up, bringing your right arm over, slitting his throat wide open. He immediately falls to the floor, holding his opened throat as he gurgles, choking on his own blood.

When you look up again, the Hargreeves are racing down the bowling lanes, miraculously avoiding getting shot at, much to your help. Trying to give them a better chance at not getting holes punched into their sides, you lift up the side of the pool table with both of your hands. Lifting the whole thing up and off of the floor with ease, you then catapult it directly into the four masked assassins, severely injuring most of them. The loud gunfire around you slows a bit, taking the blessed opportunity before you, you race towards your friends in a blur. Sliding underneath the back of the alley like an action hero, and out into the other side.

#the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy x reader #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories #tua season one #tua #number two

73 notes · View notes

cinematicnomad · 4 years

Note

1, 7, 25 for the fanfic end of year ask :)

001. favorite fic you wrote this year i have a soft spot for take my hand (take my everything) which was the first fic i wrote this year! and kind of the first step back into writing creatively on something new that wasn’t the 7 year monster sterek fic. also my first foray into 9-1-1 fic and was just a lot of fun!

007. longest completed fic you wrote this year the longest fic i wrote was my second for the year! so show me (family) wound up being around 16k+ for 9-1-1 which kind of burst out of me over the course of one 48 hour window unlike take my hand which took a few weeks to crank out.

025. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read SO MANY FICS DUDE!!! i’m gonna rec a couple, some that i re-read this year and some that i discovered for the first time, all from a variety of fandoms. BUT heads up, you didn’t specify a fandom so it’s gonna be a little scattered. also someone else sent me this same question but specified 9-1-1, so i’m gonna reserve those recs for that ask. GET READY!!

and this, your living kiss by opal_bullets (7/7 | 84k+ | M) destiel; AU: college/university; john winchester’s A+ parenting; angst with a happy ending

only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet jack allen is just kansas mechanic dean winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.

until, that is, a string of coincidences leads dean to auditing a poetry course with one dr. castiel novak. the professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia’s foremost expert on the poetry of jack allen.

note: i discovered this fic back in the pre-pandemic times of feb 2020 and i’ve read this fic TWICE since, leaving a lengthy comment each time. the poetry in the fic itself is stunningly gorgeous and i have a habit of reading it out loud to myself while reading bc it begs to be heard. this fic is seriously beautiful and makes me want to read all the poet!dean au’s out there in the world. unfortunately there aren’t that many so i just keep coming back to this well. i don’t think i can express enough how much i love this fic.

lost time by ARCurren (105/105 | 350k+ | T) bransonxsybil; AU: canon divergent; outsider POVs; original characters; slow burn

the story of a free spirit who was asked to give up the man she loved for a system she didn’t believe in and what happened next. AU after 3.04.

note: did i think, when i stumbled across this fic years ago, that it would wind up being one of my all time favorites that i return to time and again to re-read? never. did i re-read it for like the dozenth time this year?? 110%. this fic is everything i want from fanfiction—it’s beautifully written, expands on canon, and shows me all the hidden moments the cameras never did (not to mention it’s historically accurate and delves deep into irish politics of the time). the first third or so of this fic is all about tom and sybil’s slow burn romance at downton, but the fic really bursts into its own when we follow the two to dublin and get introduced to all of the author’s deliciously detailed oc’s. heads up warning: this fic was never officially completed, though the final chapter is a beautifully written summary of the final arc of the fic. even so, it’s fucking worth it.

misfire by mothlights & unpossible (6/6 | 28k+ | T) sterek; time travel; angst with a happy ending; alive hale family; magic; alternating POV

“the debt must be repaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. the words resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of his jaw, and stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because she draws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILK now there is galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a presence of unmistakable power in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-thai-takeout hallway.

“oh shit,” stiles says.

note: this fic is the first in the misfire ‘verse and i need you to understand that it literally broke me when i binge read these fics a month or so ago. i am a sucker for a solid time travel fic especially bc there are such few good ones in fandom. but this gets at the heart of it all by exploring the idea of stiles getting the chance to save derek’s family and taking it...after he and derek are romantically together in his true timeline and then actually dealing with the ramifications of how that alters everything and how stiles survives in this new present where he and derek are virtual strangers. everyone should definitely read this, but you should also know that i fucking sobbed while reading the sequel (which also has a happy ending, but really digs deep into the nitty gritty angst of the repercussions).

map of the world by seperis (11/11 | 154k+ | M) destiel; end!verse; alternate universe; canon divergent; original characters; slow burn

the world’s already over and they’re already dead. all they’re doing now is marking time until the end.

note: look, if you don’t know about down to agincourt by @seperis, what are you doing with your life?? the series is over 1M+ words so far, the fic author is on book 4 out of a planned 8, and it’s fucking phenomenal. i know i’ve tagged a couple of these recs as slow burn but...this is the slowest slow burn to ever burn. canon!dean travels back into the end!verse timeline just as lucifer kills dean and somehow cas made it out alive and has to keep dean safe while he learns to become his end!verse counterpoint. the world building in this series is intense and i cannot recommend it enough. i’m still in the midst of my re-read bc it’s SUCH an endeavor but i highly recommend it to everybody.

invictus by ellanasan (116/116 | 355+ | M) hayffie; au: alive abernathy family; pre-hunger games; canon prostitution; slow burn

“so then, before i can even think about doing something stupid like trying to stab him with his fucking golden paperknife, he gives me a choice, see?” haymitch continued, almost detached. “either i play nice like all the other victors or he’ll kill my family. i could either become his puppet—greatest punishment he could give me, according to him—or i could become the example.”

AU in which haymitch’s family lives.

note: hello, have you ever wondered what the hunger games series would be like if haymitch’s family were alive? i fucking hadn’t until 2 years ago when i stumbled across this fic and fell head over heels in love with this ship. @ellanainthetardis is my go to hunger games fic writer for anything exploring canon and i’m obsessed with anything she writes about the OG victors pre-canon (finnick, joanna, chaff, etc). this fic is just 300k+ exploring that world and all the intricate details of how cruel the games could really be. HIGHLY recommend. i definitely re-read it this fall when i needed a pick me up.

don’t know what i’m supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (1/1 | 30k+ | T) sterek; canon divergent; angst with a happy ending; ghosts; stiles POV

stiles sees dead people. yep. seriously.

(he’s got this. he’s totally got this. so what if one of them is derek’s mom?)

note: did you know that @crazyassmurdererwall is one of my all time favorite people? and that she’s wicked talented? and that in our spare time she’ll send me a billion fic ideas that are amazing and i get to hear all the intricate details of her plot bunnies? but i digress. this fic is one of my all time fave sterek fics i’ve re-read it sooo many times. there’s just something about the heartache and stiles’ insecurity and the way he tries to shoulder it all on his own. and then there’s alli’s brilliant writing, the way she weaves through a scene and paints a picture just so and manages to tug at your heart strings with her precise word choice. there’s some amazing world building in this fic as it explores this other facet of the supernatural that canon teen wolf never touched upon, and i’m so grateful for that bc alli is the only one who should be allowed to write about ghosts and teen wolf together.

lagavulin and guinness by snarfle (10/10 | 163k+ | explicit) hartwin; slow burn; PTSD; suicidal thoughts; graphic depictions of violence; domestic abuse

plenty of people had looked down on eggsy throughout his life. he had gotten fairly used to it. didn’t mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. what really sucked was that the new arthur was worse than the old one.

“eggsy grimaced. he didn’t know how to explain to harry—who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life—that the new arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”

also featuring: dean is harder to get rid of than eggsy thought, his mum is going off the deep end, there are way too many nefarious plots in play, and eggsy is really beginning to wish that harry would stop holding his hand and kiss him instead.

note: look, i know i recced this literally less than a week ago but i ALSO stayed up til 5AM re-reading this last night and it was a-m-a-z-i-n-g. i was on a bit of a kingsman kick earlier this year, so i’ve actually re-read this fic TWICE so far in 2020. i will give you a serious warning in that this fic delves deep into domestic abuse through the lens of a variety of different relationships. it also explores the potential for abuse in hartwin, bc this fic is one of the few that actually commits to the fact that they’re literal spies who murder people. actively. a lot. but seriously, this fic is one of my fave in the fandom and i STRONGLY recommend it.

waste of breath by bryrosea (1/1 | 22k+ | M) loganxveronica; canon compliant; missing scenes; navy; past child abuse

logan echolls, the nine years, and the navy.

note: bryrosea has an obscene number of amazing logan and veronica fics (her canon divergent series stay with me is another i re-read this year), but i’ve found myself returning to this fic a lot over the years. i’m a sucker for canon compliant fics that explore the missing scenes in between canon and this fic hits all the right buttons by diving deep into how logan echolls went from being a trash fire at hearst college at the end of s3 to being a decorated navy pilot by the movie. it explores logan seeking out therapy and making a life for himself that he can be proud of, all while pining after the girl who got away. and bc this author is amazing, she followed it up with a sequel from veronica’s point of view in the series done by only me.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog (8/8 | 60k+ | M) destiel; POV castiel; pre-canon; post-canon; canon compliant; immortality; reincarnation

“and what’s the point of it?”

“of love? there isn’t one. loving is its own purpose.”

note: i mean??? i don’t really know what to say except that this is one of the truly most beautiful fics i have ever read. it follows castiel through time as he meets different reincarnations of sam and dean across history and falls ever more deeply in love. it is achingly tender and so ecstatically written that i die just thinking about it. and that summary? i mean. holy fuck break my heart why don’t you? i don’t know how i missed out on this fic for so long since it was published in 2015 but i only learned about it for the first time back in july and it was. life changing?? when the fic finally reaches the canon timeline and he meets THIS dean it’s peak yearning. 10/10 will read again.

ahead in the count by elisela (17/17 | 50k+ | E) sterek; AU: sports; pitcher!stiles; teacher!derek; long distance relationship; getting together

“yankee fan,” derek says, laughing when stiles makes a disgusted face. “the bronx bombers, stiles, you can’t be a new yorker and—”

“stop talking right now,” stiles sighs, shaking his head. “i can’t believe i still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling derek in by his coat. “this is making me rethink everything.”

“i’ll never watch them again,” derek promises, and stiles laughs against his mouth.

or: stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY mets when he meets and falls in love with derek. derek doesn’t know.

note: i read SO MANY of @elisela’s 911 fics this summer, which i loved, and then she got into teen wolf and started writing sterek and i just about died. this fic is amazing, one of my fave sterek AU’s that i’ve read in years. it’s just the right amount of drama and angst and fluff filled with all the joys of miscommunication and character relationships that makes reading sterek such a joy. reading this fic and finding out eli needed fic recs pushed me to dive back in to reading sterek fics for a bit this fall so i can say with the utmost authority that this is one of the best i’ve read in a long time.

i used to think one day we’d tell the story of us by notequitegucci (2/2 | 32k+ | M) gendrya; alternate universe—modern setting; outsider POV; friends to lovers; friends to lovers

9 times a stark encounters gendry + 1 time he meets the starks.

note: again, this is the first in a 2 part series titled love me like you do that explores arya and gendry’s dynamics together through the point of view of her family. game of thrones ended last year with a whimper but i keep returning to the gendrya tag on ao3 to seek out new, amazing content and also to re-read some old favorites. i can’t remember if i came across this for the first time last year or this one, but i’ve read it and re-read it more times than i can count since and i love it more than i can describe. i’m a total sucker for outsider POV fics and my biggest pet peeve in canon is the fact that none of the stark’s ever found out that arya and gendry had a history together. this modern au fic almost makes up for it by giving me a gendry encounter with every family member and then the big reveal. it’s peak content.

theeeeeeese recs got a little away from me. i wasn’t originally intending on adding lengthy notes to each entry but ... oh well!! these are all amazing so please enjoy.

fanfic end of the year asks

#lilolilyr #ask #if i knew an authors tumblr i tried to tag them in this #seriously my reclist got away from me for a bit #also if you're looking for 911 recs #like i said they will be in another ask where someone specified!!#fic rec #about kat writes

21 notes · View notes

i-am-ironic · 4 years

Text

Daminette betrothed au part 4

It still doesn't want to post property so if you see this if you could reblog it that would be great but if you don't want to you don't have to. Anyway so this will be the second update to this story today,( i hope I can get this out before midnight, its almost 11 now 😅) well let's get started.

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

Bruce watched the door the girl had just gone through before turning to his son,"who is she damian? Why did she say her name was marinette dupan-chang al Ghul Wayne?"

"Father i will explain everything when she gets back i don't know how much of her past she will want to share with you. She might not trust you at first. The only family of mine she has met has been Talia so be careful of what you say."

"Dose she have anything to do with you going missing for 6 months three years ago?"

"I trust her, father... she,"he paused trying to decide how to phrase his next words, "she knows I'm robin."

Bruce whipped his head around to face damian, "she knows what?" His words were as cold as ice as her stared down his son.

"Im back!" Called the girl in question closing the door behind her before noticing the tence atmosphere. She walked behind damian and looked questioningly at him.

"I only told him that you had something to do with me disappearing three years ago... and that you know I'm robin." He said not taking his eyes off his father.

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "We can dessus that while we wait, I have someone I want you to meet dames. he should be here in about ten minutes."

Now damian looked at her questingly right as his father asked her the first question. "How did you meet damian?"

"I was kidnapped by the league and taken to a base were damian was taken not long after. We met kneeling at an alter moments before we were married."

Bruse raised his eyebrows, "alright then why would they choose you of all people?"

"I was the hero of Paris, the ladybug. I suppose they thought I was strong enough to be worthy of their prince."

"I am truly sorry we couldn't help with the Paris situation, but its out of our jurisdiction and we didn't want to make things any worse then they already were."

"Its much better that you weren't involved," she shuddered at the thought. "If one of you.... well I wasn't ladybug for awhile after I got home anyway."

Now it was damian's turn to ask a question, "why weren't you ladybug?"

"Its kind of a long story actually, um well it will be easier to explain when my guest arrives." Just then the intercom beeped and the lady on the other side said "sir there is a man here says his name is Luka and he is here to see the young lady who came in a minute ago, should I let him in?"

Marinette nodded, which prompted Bruse to say "yes marg let him in."

When the door opened damian saw a tall man with blue-green dyed hair, he was holding a tablet in one hand. Marinette went over to great him and daimen felt a pang in his heart. Had Marinette moved on from him? But before he could think about it for too long Marinette was heading back toward him, in her arms was what appeared to be a child.

"Damien I would like you to meet our son Xander dupan-chang al Ghul Wayne."

Damian just stared at her dumb founded. He had a son? This was his son? The little boy looked at him with a board expression before marinette started talking to him in French.

"This is your father Xander he has wanted to meet you for so long!" She looked up at damian hopefully.

"I have a son?" Damien said as the boy struggled to get out of his mothers arms to see his father for the first time.

Damien took him as marinette explained "he doesn't understand English that well yet but he is very good at speaking French."

As damian spoke to his son in French marinette explained the everything to Bruse but didn't say anything that would give away his identity with Lika in the room. she wasn't sure if he would be comfortable with Luka knowing. Once everything was explained Bruse ordered a test to prove that Xander was damian's son, not because he didn't believe marinette but so that it would be official and if anything was to happen to marinette then Damien would have custody of their son.

Damian was so excited! He had a son! Now how to keep Xander and marinette away from his brothers? He would have to think about that but he would have time. Marinette told him she had an apartment in the nicer part of town. That was good. They couldn't just jump right back into a relationship. they hadn't seen each other in three years and it would take time. if they tried to force anything then they might just grow even further apart and they wanted to be together for their son, and because even after all this time they still loved each other.

They decided to take things slow for now and go on some dates with Luka babysitting. The first date would be to the gatham art museum on Saturday.

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

This isn't the best chapter I've ever written but I think it will work. The next chapter will be damian' brothers finding out about marinette and Xander i already have an idea of how Jason and Tim find out but if you have in idea for Dick or the girls tell me! I'm also thinking that some fluff with damian and marinette going on some dates would be fun. And i wrote this chapter in uner an hour yay!

@thestressmademedoit

@abrx2002

If anyone else wants to be tagged tell me and I'll tag you.

#batfam #damien #damian wayne #marinette x damian #daminette #dating #miraculous marinette #maridami #maribat #marinette cheng #arranged marriage au

94 notes · View notes

xxx-cat-xxx · 4 years

Text

all the things we never said

Summary: Five times Nat and Tony watch over each other and the one time they don't need to any longer.

Word Count: 10k

Tags: Nat & Tony’s Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Blood and Injury, Sickfic, Recreational Drug Use, Angst and Banter and Humour, MCU canon compliant, Team as Family, Feelings

A/N: The tumblr version is out! Huge thanks to @whumphoarder for being the world's best beta reader and my personal punctuation fairy. And thank you to @quietlyimplode for all your continuing support.

Link to read on AO3

1. Trust Issues

It’s their third mission together, but the first one they have to tackle alone. Cap, Hawkeye and the Hulk are off defending Bulgaria from a sudden invasion of slimy goo monsters, but Nat has been planning this mission for months. She fought Fury tooth and nail to go through with the original plan until he begrudgingly agreed and sent Tony along for backup.

So now it’s her, alone, inside the Hydra base instead of a team of two, and Tony is waiting outside in the forest with the quinjet, growing more restless every minute.

“JARVIS, how long?” he asks, twirling a box of Tic Tacs between his thumb and index finger. He opens the cockpit window, sticking his head out and searching the forest for what must be the hundredth time in the last few hours.

“Agent Romanov was supposed to return to the meeting point seventeen minutes ago,” the AI replies matter-of-factly.

“Twenty and I’ll go in,” Tony decides, letting out a long breath. “I told her she shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“Sir, the whole point of an undercover mission is for your identities to stay hidden. No offense, but neither your face nor your suit would contribute to that aim.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Tony sasses back. “But I’m not gonna wait outside while our resident Scary Redheaded Assassin is getting murdered by a group of neo-nazis.”

“That is quite an honorable sentiment, sir. However,―”

The AI doesn’t get a chance to continue, because at that very moment Tony makes out a familiar black-and-red shape emerging out of the green of the forest. She’s moving quickly―though not as quickly as he would have liked her to. Even from this distance he can see that Nat’s acquired a limp at some point during the three hours she was inside the base.

“Jet!” he thinks he can hear her shout even before he can clearly make out her face.

“What?” he calls back.

“Start – the fucking – jet!”

Tony, of course, doesn’t listen. The suit is open next to him, already waiting, and he doesn’t hesitate a second before he gets inside and fires up the thrusters. There is no chance in hell anyone would mistake the red-and-gold armour for anything other than Iron Man, but something about the fact that Nat is currently being followed by at least a dozen Hydra agents tells Tony that their cover was blown long ago.

He dials up to top speed, rushes over Natasha’s head and fires a round at the agents behind her―not enough to kill, but enough to hold them off for a while. Then he swoops down, and, for once glad about the lack of comms and his inability to hear her protests, scoops Nat up under her arms and flies her directly onto the quinjet.

The landing through the half-open door is less elegant than he had hoped for. Nat ends up more or less crashing onto the ground while Tony quickly curbs the speed. When he opens the suit, the assassin is still lying there like a heap of bones, making no attempt to move—which, given her usual alertness, is frankly alarming.

“Nat? You alive over there?” he inquires.

The heap moves and her face becomes visible, paler than fresh snow against the dark red of her hair. “Get us out of here.”

“How bad are you―”

“I’m fine,” she snaps with obvious strain in her voice.

“I thought you were better at lying.”

“Stark. Start the fucking jet.” She glares at him, which is much less scary now that she’s practically lying on the ground, but still enough to make Tony turn on his heels and get into the pilot seat.

It’s a good thing he does, because the Hydra agents have apparently recovered and are less than half a mile away from the jet now, carrying heavy artillery. Tony lifts them up just in time and, resisting the urge to fly a victory lap over their heads since time is a priority now, evades the guns with an elegant loop.

Maybe not the best idea, because the plane swerves and Nat’s body hits the jet’s opposite wall with an audible thump. She doesn’t cry out, but he knows she wants to from the way she gasps sharply before cutting herself off. Tony curses himself and concentrates on pulling the quinjet up at a gentler angle. The moment they reach flight level, he puts it on autopilot and heads back to check on his teammate.

Nat has maneuvered herself into a half-sitting position, leaning against the wall, but that’s about it. There’s blood on the ground around her, and more is marking the path she slid across the floor. Her breaths are coming out in small gasps of barely concealed pain.

“That’s not looking too good, Widow,” Tony remarks while retrieving the first-aid-kit out from its storage unit in the wall.

“Neither is your face.” She delivers the prepubescent insult with an expression so straight that it’s almost comical, before weakly stretching out one arm towards him. The left is curling around her stomach, blood spilling out in between her fingers in small gushes in rhythm with each breath. “Here, take this.”

There’s a pen drive in her opened palm. Tony has to grin, and there’s a weak smile on her sweaty face too, because this means she was successful after all. He stores the pen drive in the pocket of his track pants, then crouches down and starts to remove Nat’s jacket.

“What was the problem, huh?” he asks conversationally, mostly to distract her from the pain the movement must be causing her. “Someone recognised your phenomenally inconspicuous hair colour?”

“Fury’s fucking bullshit intel,” she says hoarsely, voice tense. “Gonna have a word with him when we get back.”

“I’ll be sure to clear out before that happens,” Tony remarks. He carefully helps her lie down on the ground, using her jacket as a makeshift pillow. “But I’d pay a fortune for the video.”

Nat weakly flips him off, but Tony is suddenly too distracted trying to find the bullet hole in all the blood to continue the sass. “We need to take off your shirt,” he assesses, his voice sober now.

There’s a beat where she just looks at him before clumsily starting to peel it off. There’s a lot in that look—doubt, calculation, resignation—and in the end he’s not sure whether it’s trust that’s winning her over or the knowledge that she doesn’t have any other choice. And that hurts a little, somewhere deep inside, because he couldn’t care less about Nat’s boobs while she is bleeding out in front of him. But then again, the circumstances in which they met probably put him in a less than favourable position.

Nat is visibly having difficulty lifting her arms, so he helps her pull the shirt over the head, careful not to touch any more skin than necessary. There’s so much blood underneath the fabric that he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else even if he’d wanted to. Tony knows first aid in theory, but he’s never had to use it on someone with a bullet wound, never really had much contact with blood apart from his own. The last time he was in a similar position, it was Yinsen taking his last breaths under Tony’s hands in a cave in Afghanistan, and no, he’s so not going there now.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep and measured breath. “What do I do?”

With muttered instructions, Nat guides him through assessing the wound. They decide that the bullet has to stay in for now. The next friendly hospital is only half an hour out, but she’s fading fast, lost way too much blood, and putting pressure on it has priority until they arrive.

“You could have just waited a few weeks and gone in with backup, you know," he comments while ripping open a packet of gauze, mostly to keep her talking; he doesn’t honestly expect anything he says would alter her stubbornness.

“Now where's the fun in that?" She slurs the words a little around the edges, but the sass is enough to reassure him that she’ll be alright.

Nat talks Tony through applying a pressure bandage, her body shaking more and more underneath his fingers, revealing just how much willpower it’s taking her not to pass out. Sometime around the point when Tony applies the last of the bandages, Nat’s eyes slip closed and her body goes limp in his grasp. She’s pulled through—through the procedure just as the mission—and Tony feels the weirdest swell of pride well up in him at being part of her team.

Nat stays mostly unconscious when he contacts the hospital and starts the landing sequence. Tony carefully dresses her in one of Cap’s spare shirts, because you never know what kind of pervert will be filming their arrival. It makes her look a bit like a child wearing her father’s clothes.

She wakes with a gasp when the paramedics enter and lift her onto a gurney, and Tony makes sure to stay in her field of vision to give her a familiar face to look at all the while until they enter surgery.

As soon as the doors have closed behind her, Tony pulls out his phone. He’s gonna have that word with Fury himself.

Three months later, when he reads a report about Natasha being shot on a solo mission and refusing anesthesia during the surgery at the local hospital, it dawns on him that the reason she let herself give into unconsciousness this time is because somehow, somewhere, there had to be a glimpse of trust.

2. Red Wine Stains

There was a time in his life when Tony used to like galas. Or maybe like is a bit of a strong term―he used to enjoy looking at dressed-up people and being looked at, flirting a little here and there, and, most importantly, the drinks. He definitely used to like the drinks.

Today, he wishes he could have some of that glamorous feeling back, just to get his adrenaline pumping a bit. The past week held a Doom Bots attack and a sewage robot gone wild and the launch of the new Stark phone and a fight with Pepper and a Dum-E malfunction, and it’s only Thursday. The wine is cheap, the food tasteless, the people boring, and Tony is tired. Fall-asleep-under-the-car-he-is-repairing kind of tired, because yes, that has happened before, much to Pepper’s dismay.

But exhaustion is not something he admits to people, so sunglasses and make-up are his beloved companions this evening, closely followed by the group of misfits that moved into his tower not too long ago and are currently gathered around him, answering the questions of at least a dozen TV crews enclosing them in a semi-circle.

Thor, in a suit that seems to be from the 19th century and nevertheless look stylish on him, is telling a story about a gigantic wolf he once taught to play fetch, with Bruce nodding along, looking awkward as ever. Nat is wearing a stunning high-slit white gown, red curls made up in a fancy bun. She has been having her fun this evening introducing Steve to an endless number of pretty admirers, just to leave him alone in the middle of the conversation, much to his embarrassment.

“And now a question for Iron Man,” the aritificially cheerful reporter announces, turning away from Thor and towards Tony. “Mr Stark, there were rumours that you underwent a heart surgery at the end of last year. While I’m pleased to see that you’re back in action, I’m curious to know whether you’re concerned that your health issues affect the Avengers’ capability to defend us in case of another attack like the one of New York?”

Tony steps forward while the crowd of onlookers falls silent. The reporter pushes the microphone into Tony’s face, but the motion seems to slow down as it happens, the world coming to a screeching halt around him.

Breathe, he thinks. Just breathe, you got this. And then: What if they come back? What if you aren’t strong enough? What if you can’t defend anyone this time?

“Mr Stark?” the reporter asks again.

Breathe. In, out, Tony tells himself. Come on, it’s not that hard.

“I, uhm…” He licks his lips, dimly aware of the cloud of reporters around him, the journalist in question regarding him with a frown. More aware though of his shaky hands, the sweat gathering on his forehead, his speeding heartbeat. “I think…”

In, out. In out. Inoutinoutinoutin―

“I think I can answer this for him,” Natasha takes two steps towards him, reaching for the microphone, and the next thing he knows, she stumbles on her high heels and knocks her glass of cheap Burgundy all over his extremely expensive suit jacket. There’s ohhs and oh my gods coming from the crowd of reporters. Nat pretends to apologise and then all he can hear is his own ragged breathing while she is pulling him away towards a side door.

“Tony―” she starts, a hand on his arm. He takes a step back, reflexively, his back hitting the wall behind him.

“I’m f-fine,” he gasps, trying in vain to get his breathing under control, “Just a sec.”

“I know, Tony,” she says calmly, not judging, not freaking out. He knows he shouldn’t, either. And he wants to calm down, god does he want to, but he’s past that point now, his heart galloping in his chest and his breaths turning into wheezes.

“I can’t―”

Fight or flight kicks in and he stumbles away from her without caring where he is going, aware only of his racing heart and the ever-tightening grip around his chest until she pushes him through yet another door into a bathroom and Tony’s legs go weak under him. He sinks to the floor, wheezing. Hugs himself, clutching a hand to his chest.

There’s no oxygen, no fucking oxygen in this room, and Tony needs to get out, needs some fresh air, but he can’t even get up right now. He’s going to die for sure, weeks before his 43rd birthday, on the floor of a men’s bathroom with red wine soaking through his shirt, and what a headline this will be.

“You’re not dying,” Nat says, fierce and still almost annoyingly calm, and god, did he really say that out loud? Tony has just enough wherewithal left to feel a surge of embarrassment. “You’ve been through this before,” she continues. “You’re gonna be okay.”

The room is getting blurry around the edges and he knows that he really needs to breathe, but he’s got no idea how to get there. And then Nat kneels down in front of him, removes his tie and opens his shirt buttons with quick fingers, and there’s just the slightest bit more air getting into him with each wheeze.

Suddenly, his mouth is watering. Tony hunches over and Nat can just slide out of the way before he heaves up two mouthfuls of wine, coffee, and bile, coughing and choking as he does so. This is bad, he thinks dimly. He hasn’t been sick from a panic attack in a while now. He draws in a choking breath and then another and another before retching again.

He really doesn’t want Black Widow out of everyone to witness him like this, but at least Nat doesn’t say anything stupid like “just breathe” or “calm down” or try to hug him, and that’s a marginal relief. What she does is cower down next to the puddle of sick and take Tony’s hands in hers, almost gently, and then presses them rhythmically. “Focus on that,” she orders, and, left with no other option, he does.

After minutes that feel like years, it finally becomes a little easier to draw in air. Panting, Tony rests his head back against the wall, his whole body bathed in sweat. Just breathes, in and out, while the bathroom slowly comes back into focus. He holds on to Nat’s hand for another minute or so, almost afraid he’s going to lose his tentative grasp of his mind if he lets go. It takes a while until he gathers himself enough to pull away from her.

“Now you’ve got something for the paparazzi,” he says halfheartedly, trying to calm the trembling in his body.

She looks at him, not missing a beat. “Nah. Panic attacks are way less sexy than drug orgies. No coke, no headlines.”

Tony lets out a breath. “No luck for me then.”

Nat gets up and starts pulling paper towels from the dispenser to clean up the mess on the ground. Her dress, Tony realises only now, also suffered in the red wine stunt.

After a few more breaths, he makes it unsteadily to his feet to help her. She stops him midway, takes the sleeve of her suit jacket and wipes tears he didn’t notice before from his cheeks, a sober, almost kind look on her face that he’s not seen before. It confirms his suspicion that this wasn’t her first time seeing someone panic, and something makes him wonder whether she’s been on the other side as well.

“Let’s get back to the action,” he tries to sound convincing as he makes for the door, then remembers the palm-sized red wine stain on his own shirt. “Or maybe I’ll get this cleaned first.”

“Like hell you’re going anywhere right now.”

“But―”

“Nope.” With a movement faster than he can blink, she fishes his phone out of his suit jacket (purely showing off, because he knows she’s got her own communication device hidden away somewhere in that fancy long dress).

Tony makes a weak attempt to snatch the phone back, which she doesn’t even acknowledge. The screen lights up upon receiving her fingerprint and she seems almost disappointed that there’s nothing to hack into.

“Nat here,” she says into the speaker. “Meet us at the back entry.”

Tony can make out Happy grumpily giving an answer.

“Yes, the back entry. No, nobody’s hurt.” She raises an eyebrow at Tony. “No, Happy, you don’t need a gun. Meet you outside.”

They keep silent until they’re in the car. Tony is used to being the one to start conversations around Nat―around almost all the Avengers, actually―but the panic attack left him completely drained and somehow he doesn’t feel the need to pretend otherwise.

“You know,” she speaks up once they are halfway through Manhattan. “Steve had a breakdown when it was snowing last winter. Full-on flashbacks and all. Took me an hour and a bucket of tea to calm him down.”

Tony turns his head towards her, trying to keep his face neutral while she goes on. “Bruce sees a therapist once a week.” She hesitates, as if weighing whether to disclose anything else or not. “Clint and I… let’s say we’ve been there, too. We all know what it’s like.”

He swallows. “This… doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know that. But it means you’re not alone with it. It’s not a weakness, Tony.”

“I never said it was.”

She regards him knowingly. “Do me a favour and get some sleep tonight, okay?”

Tony thinks of the laundry list of things he has to finish and of the talk he and Pepper have to have before he can ask her to stay with him when he goes to sleep, both of which―talking and sleeping―he’s been putting off for reasons. But Nat’s right―it has to happen at some point.

“Yeah, okay.” Then, after a moment, “Thanks, Nat.”

"Thanking me?" Nat raises an eyebrow. "You sure you didn’t have too much to drink?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it,” Tony grumbles.

“You owe me a new dress and another chance to set up a date for Steve,” she states. But when she looks at him, her eyes are warm.

The next day Nat convinces JARVIS―with help of some useful computer skills she picked up over the years―to disable all alarms and let Tony sleep in. At the breakfast table, she regards the newspaper Steve left lying around after coming back from his jog. The headline talks of the Black Widow’s inability to walk in high heels, and Nat, who did a roundhouse kick on four-inch stilettos just the other week, quietly smiles to herself.

3. Matchmaker

“Hey, Big Guy.” Tony rests an arm on Bruce’s shoulder, startling the scientist out of his chair by the hospital bed. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s finally asleep, I think,” Bruce answers quietly, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes.

“Damn.” Tony shuffles closer to the bed and looks at Nat, all frail and small in between a nest of blankets. She is deathly pale, except for the red fever spots on her cheeks, and her eyes are almost vanishing in the dark rings below them. There’s an oxygen cannula under her nose, and despite theoretically knowing that it had been bad, that pneumonia is something that regularly kills people, the seriousness of the situation hits him only now. “Damn, Bruce, she looks so young.”

Too young for all of this, he doesn’t say.

“I know,” Bruce sighs. “Trust me, Tony, I know.”

“‘m not asleep,” Nat protests belatedly, blinking an eye open and slowly turning over to them. “Hi.” She raises an eyebrow at Tony.

“Hi, disease monkey.”

“Fuck you, Tony.” Her voice catches on the last word and she tries to clear her throat, but ends up coughing, and then hacking, hunched forward over herself, until Bruce helps her to a half-upright position and holds her there until the fit subsides. No one mentions the flecks of blood on her hand when she pulls it away.

Bruce hands her a tissue and frowns down at her. “You know, this wouldn't have happened if you'd taken proper care of yourself.”

“Well,” she croaks, “Next time I infiltrate a Hydra prison, I’ll make sure to take a fluffy blanket and a hot water bottle along with me.”

Tony chuckles even while Bruce throws up his hands. “Why am I doing this job again?” the scientist complains. “I should just get a LinkedIn profile and be with people who don’t actively try to get themselves killed once a week.”

“You should get a nap,” Tony interjects. “You look like you’re about to join her.”

“I’m just tired,” he retorts.

“Which is why you should sleep, Big Green. Clint will be here in a couple hours and I’ll stay with her till then.” Tony nudges Bruce aside and settles down on the plastic chair next to the bed. “I got this.”

“You got what?” Nat croaks, but then redirects her gaze at Bruce. “Really, go sleep.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Bruce fidgets with the monitors. “You should take something before I leave—your temp’s almost up to 103 again.”

Nat rolls her eyes while Tony comments, “He’s terrible, isn’t he? How come you haven’t killed him yet?” He leaves a dramatic pause. “Oh, right, immortality and so on.”

“You’re so funny, Tony,” Bruce retorts, without any heat.

He hands Nat a fever reducer and helps her sit up enough that she can swallow it with a sip of water. Then he leaves, emphasizing again to call him in case anything happens.

“He likes you, you know that?” Tony drops casually once he’s gone.

“What are you doing here again?” Nat just gives him a look that’s probably supposed to be threatening but is mostly just tired, and doesn’t reveal any surprise at Tony’s observation. Tony might be good at reading people if he concentrates on it, but Nat is a natural.

“Before you murder me with one of the knives I know you’re hiding somewhere in this bed, I’ve come bearing gifts.” Tony looks around to make sure Bruce is gone before pulling Nat’s tablet out of his leather jacket.

“Ah.” She doesn’t say thanks, but her face lights up a little. While she texts Clint and probably hacks into some country’s police reports to make sure the aftermath of her mission was handled successfully, Tony goes to get a big mug of coffee and his own toy to fiddle with.

The tablet has disappeared once he returns, undoubtedly hidden in the same place as her knives. Nat, meanwhile, is trying hard to hide the shivers now wracking her frame. A glance at the stats shows that her temp has ignored the fever reducers and hit 103, so it’s probably a good thing she put the tablet down on her own; Tony is not the person who’d like to try and convince her to rest.

“You can leave,” she tries once more. “I’m fine on my own, and Bruce must be asleep by now.”

Tony really wishes he could read her, just to know whether she actually believes he would go if she just asked him enough.

“I would,” he says lightly. “Buuut, Pep kicked me out of the lab and this is the best pretense to keep upgrading my new gauntlet watch design.” He nods down to his own tablet he just produced.

It’s not true, strictly speaking; before coming here he’d been immersed deeply in SHIELD’s classified video feeds, observing Clint conduct the evacuation of the prison Nat managed to open for them the previous night. But that’s nothing she needs to know for now.

Nat doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but gives up arguing. She flaps her hand tiredly. “Knock yourself out.”

A few minutes of silence and she’s coughing again, her whole body shaking under the strain of it. This time, she hacks up strings of red-tinged mucus into a small basin that was waiting on her bedside table. Tony isn’t one to comfort sick people and Nat isn’t one to accept comfort from anyone but a select few, so instead of putting a hand on her back and telling her she’ll be alright, he goes to grab another pillow that she can put behind her back to prop her up.

“Water?” she asks when she can catch her breath again.

Tony hands her a glass, then takes the basin with a barely concealed look of disgust and disposes of it in the sink in the adjacent room. “Try and catch some shuteye?” he suggests when he returns.

Nat just shakes her head and clenches her teeth when another round of chills passes through her body.

He recognises the look on her face. Bone-deep exhaustion, but still fighting against sleep, most likely because of the fever dreams. Been there, done that. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the Hydra goons wouldn’t touch Nat in the almost two weeks she spent in the prison until she gave the rest of the team a go for the mission.

She’ll eventually have to talk to someone about whatever was done to her, but Tony isn’t that person. Neither of them is good with talking, not the serious type, anyway. She maybe―hopefully―has Barton for that, and Tony… has his bots. Well, and sometimes, when he’s drunk and tired or drunk from tiredness, he might have confessed a thought or two to Pepper. Most of it she figured out by herself.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts. “So what are we gonna do then?” he asks.

“You’re the genius. Figure it out.”

She’s definitely too weak for video games and Tony’s not going to read to her, which leaves the TV. They’re in the tower’s medbay, so of course there’s plenty of streaming services to choose from, which only leaves what to choose. He knows that Nat hates cheap romances and likes Tarantino, but maybe a bloodbath is not the best after what she’s just been through. They both enjoy intelligent movies, but he probably shouldn’t do anything too taxing with her fever through the roof.

“JARVIS, play Sherlock. The BBC series.”

The corners of her mouth lift a little and he knows it was the right decision.

If it had been Pepper or Bruce or even Clint, Tony wouldn’t have hesitated to crawl into the bed next to them. He craves touch when he’s ill, even if he doesn’t admit it, but he’s learned long ago that Nat’s different. So he just settles in the plastic chair next to the bed, makes sure the corners of the room are well lit, and increases the temperature enough for her shivers to finally ease down.

She fights it, but finally falls asleep half an hour into the first episode, snoring ever so slightly through the congestion in her chest. Tony knows that not everyone’s nightmares are as visible on their faces as his own, but he thinks that despite the exhaustion and sickness, she looks a little bit more relaxed than before.

After another ten minutes, Nat slides down the pillows and her nasal cannula slips out of place a little, so Tony bends over her to put it back. Her eyes snap open the moment he touches her face, alert and wary despite being bright from fever.

“Easy tiger, just putting this back where it belongs.”

She nods minutely and her eyes slip back closed, her ragged breathing still a bit faster than before. He thinks she’s maybe fallen back asleep, but then she blinks again and mumbles something indiscernible.

“Huh?” Tony asks.

She doesn’t open her eyes when she mumbles, “I’m gonna die anyway.”

Tony swallows. “Come on, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Not...now. But the thing with Bruce...this isn’t going to work. Either I’m gonna die or I’m gonna disappoint him. Don’t even know what’s worse.”

The thing is, Tony knows how it feels to have someone who is too good for you love you nevertheless. And he wishes he could tell her that she’s wrong without feeling like he’s lying.

By the time he’s finally found his reply, she is already asleep again.

“But you deserve to be happy,” he whispers into the air anyway.

Three hours later, Tony will be interrupted in designing his watch gauntlet by a very disheveled looking Bruce coming to check on Nat. Tony will follow him outside when he searches for his stethoscope, and, with a smirk on his face and a bittersweet feeling in his stomach, will tell him, “She likes you, you know? You should ask her out some time.”

4. Stoners

Nat extricates herself from the blankets with an agility acquired through years of experience in sneaking out of crowded dorm rooms without waking anyone. Bruce is asleep on the couch in Lila’s bedroom, curled a little into himself, looking rumpled and exhausted after today’s hulk-out. He passed out the moment his head touched the pillow, and Nat is honestly surprised he even made it through dinner.

But there is no sleep for her tonight. Closing her eyes means going back to the places that the witch summoned up in her mind, and that’s something she really, really doesn’t want to do.

Nat tiptoes down the wooden staircase, avoiding the legos littering her path and the creaky third step from the top. Clint would be her go-to person, if any, on nights when she feels like this. But Laura just got him back and it would be unfair to steal him away for something nobody can fix anyway.

She commandeers the heavy booze in the highest cupboard behind the digital kitchen scale Laura never uses. She is in the process of filling a glass when, through the screen door, she sees the light coming from the garden.

Nat finds Tony in the shed where he’s actually repairing the goddamn tractor. She isn’t particularly quiet while entering, but Tony still flinches when she taps him on the shoulder, raising the wrench in a gesture of defense. There’s something dark on his face, a feeling exactly matching hers. Nat hasn’t asked whether the witch has shown him something, too, but she thinks she can read the answer in his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, a little more casually after lowering the wrench, but his breathing is still too quick.

“You’re one to talk.”

He snorts. “Cap’s snoring like a steam engine. No wonder he doesn’t have a girlfriend.” Nat grins, but she knows of course that’s not the real reason.

She’s never told him, but once or twice she’s witnessed Tony waking from his nightmares on the couch in the common room or in the jet after a mission, whimpering, almost crying, barely able to catch his breath. His reason to not fall asleep in a room he shares with his teammate is the same as hers.

She takes another sip from her Whiskey and then refills the glass before handing it to him. He downs it in one smooth motion and sets it on the dirty ground nearby, gesturing at her to refill before turning back to the tractor.

“Can you fix it?” she asks, genuinely curious. The tractor has been in the garage for as long as she can remember, never working, so still that it's almost become part of the building itself.

“I can fix anything.” It’s his go-to reply, and it’s a lie, but tonight she wishes it was the truth.

Nat settles on a rusty paint can nearby while watching him work, taking sips from the bottle intermittently. His hands are moving over the vehicle like a doctor’s over a patient, both professional and intimate. There’s motor oil on his bare arms and dust coating his forehead and as much as she knows Tony loves his good looks and classy suits, now he doesn’t seem to register the dirt at all. There’s something cathartic about the way he completely immerses himself in the task.

Nat does that sometimes when she has a bad night, or the few times Clint was laid up in medical with no visitors allowed. Goes to Tony’s lab and watches him fix things, build things, neither of them talking as is their way. Sometimes she finds herself waking up hours later on the lab bench with a stiff neck and a blanket over her shoulders to Tony proudly showcasing whatever he has finished.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he’d say and present her with a new set of Widow’s Bites or a more explosive arrow or a thicker uniform for Clint to keep him safe next time.

He doesn’t look as satisfied now when the tractor finally starts tucking, and she suspects he wished for it to take longer, for more distraction in a night where the dark thoughts hang between them like thick clouds.

“So, should we take this thing and drive it up to Clint’s window right now?” he asks while turning on the tap in the corner of the barn and washing his hands and face with cold water.

“Sounds tempting,” Nat admits. “But I got a better idea. I know where Clint keeps the pot.”

“That, Miss Romanov”―Tony spins around and points at her with a screwdriver―“is the best idea I’ve heard in days.”

They smoke on the old canopy swing on the porch, and Nat would like to say that it makes her feel better, but sometimes sadness is just a part of you that doesn’t go away. They share the silence like they share the joint, each contemplating their own ghosts.

Nat’s thoughts circle back to the Red Room again and again. And she wonders: Why does it still hurt, after such a long time? Maybe because it illuminates what went wrong, where it went wrong, and because it makes all the other possibilities so clear. The alternatives she never got to live. What it would have been like to have a happy childhood. Parents who cared. No blood on her palms. How it would feel to live without the crushing weight of debt and death on her shoulders.

The funny thing is that Tony might be the one who understands the feeling best. Clint knows her, knows more of her story than anyone, but he also knows―or at least, thinks he knows―where she is wrongly blaming herself, where her mistakes are not her fault anymore. For him it’s a battle she fought against the powers who wanted to make her someone else, someone horrible, and eventually she won. But on nights like this one, Nat doesn’t feel like a winner.

And Tony, below his cocky arrogance and narcissism, still carries the guilt from his previous life around with him. They don’t talk, but as the bottle and the smoke circle back and forth between them, she gets the feeling that he has an idea of what’s going on in her head.

The night air grows colder around them and at some point Tony takes off the rough button-down he’d borrowed from Clint and wraps it around her shoulders, and tonight, just tonight, she lets him. Allows him this single gesture of chivalry because he does it out of kindness, and kindness is not something found in the memories that lurk beneath the surface, and because she knows it will make him feel like he did something right.

When the smoke has turned to ash and the bottle is empty, Tony slides down a bit and leans his head on Natasha’s shoulder. If he’d done this when they first met, after her cover was blown, she would have punched him. Now, it feels almost good. His head grows heavy against her skin after a while and his breaths even out, the drugs and the many days without sleep finally catching up with him.

Dawn breaks and brings with it an aura of finality, of something big drawing to its close. Nat has lived through so many endings and beginnings that it doesn’t scare her anymore. But she’s still human enough to feel sad.

She thinks of a little red-headed girl in a huge hall with glass mirrors, turning and twisting under the ever-critical gaze of people who should have never been her replacement parents. Thinks of her, years later, taking lives without second thoughts. So many lives along the way.

And if there’s a tear or two running down her cheek and dripping into the collar of Clint’s shirt that night, nobody will ever know.

An hour later, when Tony has woken up in her lap and squinted at her and asked, “So, what do we do about the murder bot?” and Nat has mustered all her strength to store the memories away for the time being and fire up her brain cells, Laura will step out to hang clothes on the line in the yard. She will find them like this, frozen-through, exhausted, and more than slightly hungover, but with a battle plan.

4.5. Blueberry Muffin (the time they didn’t)

Natasha is not good with kids—never has been—so she is not surprised when Tony looks a bit wary as he hands his sleeping daughter over to her. She is even less surprised when the baby wakes up, regards Nat through her dark, thick eyelashes, and immediately starts to cry.

“Here. Give her here,” Tony says, and Nat is happy enough to comply. Morgan’s sobs turn into hitching breaths and she brings her tiny fingers to her face, making discontented sounds at the back of her throat.

Tony shushes her, almost automatically, and Nat feels a strange mixture of affection and sadness bloom in her chest. He looks at Morgan with a warmth in his eyes she recognises from the first time they met. It’s the same way he’s looked at Pepper for as long as Nat’s known him. Nat knows what it means: he’d do anything for the tiny person in his arms. It’s not something she’s ever felt for anyone, and certainly nothing anyone has ever felt for her.

“So.” He clears his throat. “How’s life at the compound? More interesting than changing diapers, I suppose?”

Empty and lonely, she doesn’t say. “It’s a lot of work.”

He scoffs. “You and Captain Righteous against the rest of the world?”

“Steve’s staying in the city,” she replies briskly. She knows Tony is just trying to provoke her, since Rhodey is surely keeping him updated about everything there is to know about the remnants of the team. “He’s running counselling groups, actually. I don’t see him that often.”

“Therapy with Captain America.” Tony snorts, bitterly. “Lesson One: Be honest with your friends. Lesson Two: Choose your side wisely.”

In a life before Thanos, Nat might have started an argument upon this sideblow, but losing half the world’s population put things into perspective. She’s simply too tired to react.

Tony seems to realise that too, because he gives her a defiant glance and loses steam. Morgan makes a fussy noise and he softly runs his fingers over her head until she quiets again, burying her forehead in his t-shirt. It’s some kind of nerdy shirt with triangles and geometry equations on it, and the baby is drooling onto the Pythagorean theorem.

The silence grows from uncomfortable to oppressive while Nat tries to think up what else to say about a kid that only sleeps and eats and cries.

“So, have you enrolled her in MIT yet?” she finally asks.

Tony musters a laugh that’s probably mostly meant to humour her. “Thought we might potty train her first.”

Nat smirks.

Pepper enters the room, saving them. “Have some blueberry muffins.” She sets a plate on the table in front of her. She is as neat and pretty as ever, even with an infant to take care of, making Nat acutely aware of her own unwashed hair, the worn-out leggings she didn’t bother to change before coming here, and the deep circles below her eyes.

A phone rings somewhere in the other room and Pepper is on her feet again before even properly sitting down, but not before adding, “Tony made them.”

Nat stops dead in the middle of reaching for the muffin. Then she slowly turns towards the man in question. “You bake now,” she states, and it almost sounds like an accusation.

And here’s the thing: Nat and Tony used to be founding members of the ‘Why Do I Even Own a Kitchen’ clubt. Nat is good at cooking because she had to learn it for undercover missions (nothing like chocolate mousse and a low-cut dress to seduce a target), but she’s never, ever done it for herself. Or for the team, or for anyone who doesn’t require her to. Tony considered it superfluous since he had enough money for takeout at any time of the day, which he never ceased to mention when asked. Their hate for this particular activity is one thing they had in common, along with flexible moral standards and their love for fast cars.

“I dabble.” Tony shrugs lightly. “It helps, you know, to distract yourself. You would be surprised how cathartic it can be sometimes to watch an apple pie turn brown in the oven.” There’s a dark shadow on his face that makes her realise just how bad these sometimes get.

Guilt—oh yeah, here’s another thing they both share.

She takes the muffin and bites into it. It tastes horrible, which makes the whole situation only slightly more bearable. She understands now that when Tony pushed the arc reactor into Steve’s hands the day he returned from space, it wasn’t just Iron Man he said goodbye to. He renounced a whole way of life, and with it, all those who were a part of it. The one he leads now makes space for superheroes only in crayon drawings and bedtime stories.

Nat glances around in search of a new topic to start in on, but all she sees are baby photos, throw blankets, and handmade toys—all in soft, matching colours. Wooden walls and bamboo boxes, the opposite of the cutting edge interior design that used to be Tony’s preferred choice for the tower and compound. The lakehouse reminds Nat of the Barton farm, of Laura’s attention to make the smallest details homely.

Suddenly, the domesticity of it all feels suffocating.

“I―” she breathes out. “I need to go.” She sets down the muffin and takes a last look at the baby in Tony’s arms before getting to her feet in a rush. His halfhearted protests are lost in the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears. She passes Pepper in the hallway, who regards her with confusion and a bit of hurt. Nat’s throat is too tight to talk, but she sends a mental apology her way because none of the bad things that keep happening in her life have ever been the fault of Pepper Potts.

Tony catches her when she is just about to close the car door. There’s honest surprise on his face when he glimpses the tears on her cheek. She wipes them away, angrily, silently dares him to say anything.

“Look, this is the best possible way for me to deal with everything,” he explains, and his face looks almost like he’s in pain. “To get over what happened. Maybe you should try that some day.”

And here’s the final difference, Nat thinks as she closes the door and starts the engine. The thing he has to get over with was what made her life worthwhile.

“I’m happy for you, Tony,” she says honestly, and drives away.

10 years later, Morgan will scroll through old news footage in her holographic projection on the ceiling and find a photo of Nat and Tony, dressed up for one of the official Avengers events, sharing a laugh over something that’s lost to history. She’ll show it to Pepper and will listen disbelievingly to a story, told with wet eyes, about an assassin masquerading as a PA, who eventually became a friend masquerading as a teammate.

5. Time Travel

None of them sleep the night before the time heist, but at some point, sharing the anxiety makes things worse instead of better. They break up the group, pretending to go to bed. Nat hasn’t been in her own room since everyone moved back in; she’s been sleeping in Clint’s quarters or occasionally on the couch in the common room when the planning and plotting went on late into the night.

Years of going rogue have left their trace on Clint, and despite having lost none of the familiarity—that wordless understanding that has been between them forever—there are more and more times now when she senses his need to be alone. Tonight is one of them. So, instead of trying to sleep, she wanders aimlessly through the compound until she finds Tony sitting in the dimly-lit common room, staring out of the window in a rare moment of stillness. The helmet of his Iron Man suit is lying next to him on the table, blinking silently.

“Don’t turn the lights up,” he says hoarsely when she enters. Even without that warning, she would have recognised the crease in between his brows and the gesture with which he is pressing two fingers to his temple. Bad headache. Maybe even a migraine.

She doesn’t say anything, just steps near the chair and gives his shoulder a squeeze. They stay silent for a while until he shifts stiffly and turns toward her.

“What would you do?” He looks up, really looks at her. “What would you do if this was potentially the last night of your life?”

Something in her heart clenches, although she can’t pretend that she wasn’t thinking the same. She settles on the arm of his chair before replying. “I’d spend it with my family.”

Tony looks at her wistfully. “I talked to Morgan earlier,” he says in a neutral voice. “Told her a bit about you all. She wanted to know every Avenger’s favourite ice cream flavour.” He shakes his head in disbelief, then winces at the pain it must be causing. “You know, before her, I’d forgotten how good humans can be. Literally innocent, before the world takes all that away.”

Nat huffs. “I don’t believe in innocence.”

“Well, she did try to trick me into bringing her back a ninja star.” Tony smirks.

Nat grins. “Now that sounds more like she’s related to you.”

“So…” he sighs. “In the improbable case that this goes down well and we don’t end up with Jack the Ripper or in the middle ages, I wouldn’t mind coming up here more often. And you should meet Morgan again―I mean it. Never too early for female role models.”

He squints up at her in the challenging way that is meant to hide his insecurity, and she knows what he is really asking for.

And Nat doesn’t say ‘You really think so?’, doesn’t admit to her surprise or the warm feeling welling up in her chest. But she preserves it, somewhere in her heart.

“Sure,” she agrees instead. “But I can’t guarantee that I won’t give her a ninja star or two.”

“I think I can deal with that.” Tony rubs his hand over his eyes in a tired gesture. “So, tomorrow’s the big day. I’m gonna try and catch some shut-eye.” He gets upright, all colour draining from his face like it just flowed down into his feet. Nat’s hand shoots out to steady him, but he’s already caught himself on the armchair. “Or maybe I’ll go and puke first.”

She frowns, trying to judge whether he’s serious or not―it’s a 50-50 chance with almost anything he says―but then he gulps heavily and starts walking towards the toilet, supporting himself against the wall.

Nat sighs as she gets to her feet, and, of course, follows him.

He flinches against the bright bathroom lights and then opens the cabinet, squinting at the labels of the different medications lined up there until Nat takes pity in him and picks the right one. They've been there before, spent a whole night in this very bathroom once when one of Tony’s migraines hit so hard he didn’t want to move for hours. There's a reason Nat always kept up his stock of Imitrex—same with Clint’s Neosporin, and Steve's Zantac.

(Maybe she never really stopped hoping they’d come back.)

Nat shakes a pill out onto her palm and hands it to him along with a glass of water. He swallows and then lowers himself down next to the toilet, face in his hands, breathing carefully through his nose to keep himself from being sick.

When the immediate danger seems to have passed, Tony leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Nat can’t stop thinking how much he has aged, all the lines in his face turned into valleys and the gray and black in his hair balancing each other out. He’s got 15 years on her, but Nat was never as aware of the age difference as she is today.

He looks old and tired, but also... Nat would have never thought that soft would be a word she'd one day use to describe Tony Stark, but, looking at him in worn-out jeans and a wrinkled hoodie with a few sprinkles of glitter on them (undoubtedly courtesy to Morgan), that's the only word coming to her mind right now. It’s a different kind of softness than what he displayed during her one and only visit to the lakehouse. It doesn’t feel like a desperate escape strategy now, more like something he has grown to be without being aware of it himself.

Nat gets quietly to her feet, wets a washcloth and drapes it over his eyes, blocking out the lights. He grunts gratefully. She hesitates for a second, but then reaches down and starts kneading the tense muscles between his shoulders and neck. Tony makes a low sound in his throat somewhere between pain and pleasure. But he lets her be, and she feels a smile spread on her face.

“I forgot how good that feels,” he sighs when she’s done, squinting up at her. “Pepper never really gets the pressure right.” He swallows. “I missed this,” he adds, and she knows he doesn’t just mean her massage skills.

“Me too,” she quietly admits what she’s been thinking for days.

“I’ll just”―he weakly waves his hand―“enjoy this bathroom for a bit longer. Feel free to leave.”

“Nah, I’m good here,” Nat assures. She settles down next to him with her legs crossed, not too close, not too far. “Remember that one time we all got food poisoning from that burger joint Steve insisted was the best in Brooklyn? And Bruce was the only one who didn’t eat them, and then he just ran between different bathrooms the whole night?”

“Hell, don’t remind me.” Tony groans. “Clint puked on my Prada pajamas. Had to incinerate them.”

“Your own fault for buying branded nightwear,” she retorts.

They keep sitting and talking in low voices, and Nat doesn’t feel the desire to move, doesn’t feel the urge to let this night pass. It’s stolen time, all of it, a few days of glimpses into the life they had and that they always knew would never last. They all are aware that it’s going to end tomorrow, in one way or another. But just for now, she allows herself the illusion that it could last forever.

Less than 12 hours later, Natasha has turned into a martyr, and Tony finally understands that she did get to spend her last day with her family after all.

+1. The Passage

Waking up without pain anywhere in his body is a feeling so unfamiliar to Tony that it immediately puts him on edge. His eyes snap open, his heart beating hard and fast in his throat, and there’s something important that’s slipping his mind, something vital, and he–

He looks around himself, and he’s in his Malibu mansion. The one that Killian Aldrich bombed to the ground almost ten years ago.

It doesn’t make sense.

There’s a boxing ring set up in the middle of the room, and on it, sitting cross-legged, her long braid in red and gold hanging over her shoulder, is a familiar figure.

It can’t be.

“Natasha?” Tony asks, and she looks up at him.

And then Tony remembers.

By the time he gets his wits back enough to come up with a joke, Nat has slipped out of the ring between the ropes and is holding him in her arms. She’s young as ever, but something in her eyes makes Tony feel like she’s aged years since the last time he’s seen her.

“So this is Hell, huh? Less gargoyles than I imagined,” he quips. “And I was hoping for a better view of the Lake of Fire.”

“Oh, we’re not in Hell,” she replies calmly, pulling back. “At least not yet.”

“Where –” Tony breathes, “Where are we then?”

“It’s like a passage,” she replies. “Neither here, nor there.”

“Okay. Fine. Great.” He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to get his speeding breaths under control. “Run me through the whole thing.”

“After I jumped from the cliff at Vormir, I came to an agreement with Red Skull,” she explains. “He’s...he’s like a guard to whatever comes after. He let me wait here until… well, until someone came to let me know.”

“Let you know?” Tony echos.

“If it was worth it.” She looks up at him, for the first time seeming as scared as Tony feels. “Was it, Tony?”

“Yes.” He nods, trying to pull himself together. He thinks of Peter and his heart jumps in triumph. “Yes, it worked, Nat. We got them back. All of them.”

“But something went wrong, didn’t it?”

He sighs. “Something always goes wrong. ” He walks her through what happened after the time heist, replaying the memories and almost unable to believe them himself. “I just― I snapped. And Pep-Pepper. Rhodey. They all were there, and―”

“Breathe, Tony.” Looking at him with both sadness and pride, she stretches out her hand to wipe something from his cheek, and Tony realises then that he is crying.

“I,” he mumbles, his breath hitching. “I need to sit.”

She leads him to the boxing mat and sits him down. Then it hits Tony, really hits him what this all means.

Because he will never teach Morgan how to fly the suit he secretly designed to give her on her eighth birthday. He will never ruin Pepper’s cooking again. He will never watch over Peter when he goes patrolling, will never snatch away Rhodey’s ice cream, will never share a late-night highway drive with Happy again. It’s gone, all of it. He’s gone.

He’s crying like a child, unable to stop himself, and Nat hugs him without hesitation, holds him close. “S-Sorry,” he manages between sobs. She shushes him and strokes his back.

“It’s alright. I’ve been there too,” she whispers.

“There are so many things I wanted to do,” he chokes out after a while. “S-So many things I didn’t get to share with them.”

“I know, Tony.” She hesitates. “But they know too. Tony, you saved them. You saved them all.”

And he thinks back to Yinsen, to Don’t waste your life, Stark. To everyone he lost, everyone he outlived, everyone he killed. And he thinks, perhaps I didn’t do so bad after all.

Nat must have been having similar thoughts, because, in a quiet voice, she says, “Maybe I finally cleared my ledger.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?” he sniffs, wipes his face, and then takes her fingers into his hands, holds onto her tightly, sincerely, “None of this would have been possible if you hadn’t gotten the soul stone. We owe you. The whole universe owes you.”

And here’s the final thing they share; they have both eventually settled their debts.

The waves are hitting at the shore outside in an endless rhythm of clapping and splashing. It’s a long time until either of them speaks again.

“So,” Tony asks eventually, and the tears have dried on his cheeks, leaving only salt behind, “you chose the setting?”

She offers the tiniest of smiles. “I thought you might appreciate the touch.”

He knows that they are both thinking the same. Who would have thought, the first time they met each other, on a day when Tony was drinking chlorophyll and Nat pinned Happy onto the mat, that three-and-a-half potential apocalypses later they would end up here again?

“We can’t stay,” he says. It’s not a question.

“No,” she confirms, nodding towards the opposite wall.

There is a door at the end of the room, heavy and wooden and ancient, that doesn’t belong with the mansion―neither in Tony’s memory nor from the looks of it.

“What’s behind it?” he asks, although he already knows the answer.

“Whatever comes next.”

“Maybe it’s nothing,” he says.

Nat swallows. “Would that even be so bad?”

He turns towards her. She looks ready, at peace, but also sad. And besides knowing it’s worth it, besides knowing that they both wouldn’t hesitate a moment to make that very same choice over and over again, he wishes that they’d had more time.

They get to their feet and walk to the other end of the room. The gate seems to grow taller as they approach it until it takes up almost all of Tony’s vision. Next to him, Nat stretches out her hand and lets her fingers glide over the carvings in the wood that form patterns of leaves of a tree he doesn’t know the name of. He follows suit. The wood feels soft and warm under his touch. Alive.

“Are you scared?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Not anymore.” And it’s true. Tony has been afraid for so many years of his life—ever since the sky above New York was torn apart. And now, he seems to be feeling everything all at once: grief, gratitude, and acceptance, wonder, loss, and love. But the fear is gone.

“Let’s go?” Nat squeezes his fingers and then lets go of his hand. And he knows, this is a step they must take on their own.

He breathes in deeply. Takes a last look around. The sea, the house, the light reflecting in the red of Natasha’s hair. The calmness in her wide green eyes. He reaches for the handle of the door. “Okay.”

And they step through.

_______________

all my fics

#the tumblr version is out #my fic #nat & tony #5+1 #give it a try?

69 notes · View notes

toloveawarlord · 4 years

Text

Ch. 2

Characters: Aster, Jonah Clemence, Lancelot Kingsley, Edgar Bright, Kyle Ash

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @thetwinkims (please let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged)

A/N: Aye guess who finally got around to writing chapter two!

Rain dripped from the gutters against the cobblestones. The downpour having brought in a damp chill on the fall night. A crystal flickered in the lamp barely secured to the small building. The teenager sat cross-legged on the only dry crate that hugged the wall beneath the awning. Scooping up another hot bite of soup graciously given to her by the owner, Aster blew on the spoonful, not bothering to even glance at the officer. “Can I finish my dinner first?”

“By all means, I’ll wait.” Edgar remained at the entrance to the alley, the only way out blocked by him. He’d tracked her down with little issue. The townspeople not fond of the resident thief. They’d given away all her usual haunts.

Aster hopped off the crate, rapping her knuckles against the door. “I just need to return-- this-- hey!” She’d only turned her back to him for a second. The world tilted, now upside down in her crimson eyes. “Put me down!”

“If I did, you’d only try to run again. I have orders to bring you in. Please don’t struggle too much.” His arm tight around her waist as he held her over his shoulder. The girl was light and therefore easy to restrain, even in the awkward position.

Her fist hit against his back. “Do you always do everything you’re told?” She huffed as her weak attack didn’t faze the Jack at all. Aster wasn’t made for fighting, only stealing. The way to survive in a world where one is physically weak was to avoid fighting at all costs.

Edgar chuckled, thoroughly amused with her attempt to escape. Her small feet kicking to try to throw her balance but failing spectacularly. “I won’t drop you. So be a good girl and give up.”

There were little people on the streets at this house. Not that any of them would ever aid her, especially with her captor being the Jack of Hearts. None of that deterred her from trying to make his job as difficult as possible.

“How disgraceful. Could you not have simply used the cuffs?” The Queen of Hearts voice was drenched in annoyance. How long did this child plan to make King Lancelot wait for her to surrender?

“I’ve a feeling that she’d make even that an arduous task,” Edgar responded. This had been the easiest path to capturing her, and also the most amusing.

Lancelot narrowed his eyes at the teenager. “You understand that you’re a citizen of Red Territory, therefore subject to my judgement about your crimes. The list is extensive according to the residents in this town.”

“It’s not a crime to stay alive!” Aster spat out and made a pointed kick back in his direction. He’d nearly been in reach, but Edgar merely swatted his hand against her calf to parry the attack. The teenager was out of breath from all her struggling, but she refused to just let them take her.

“Kyle, do it.” An order from the King of Hearts, swift and absolute.

The doctor, however, hesitated with a long sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, believing himself to be the other sane one among the group. “I’m not comfortable with this plan.”

“She attempted to attack King Lancelot. We cannot let this miscreant continue to cause issues on our travel back to headquarters,” Jonah chimed in, irritated with the child that refused to have any decorum.

“Think of it as deescalating the situation. She’s a thief resisting arrest, and we could use force, but you’d have much more work if she got injured in the process.” Edgar eased the girl back down to her feet, keeping her close and restrained. It was unlikely, but he wouldn’t underestimate what she might do to escape.

Kyle retrieved a syringe from his pocket. “This is kidnapping but hold her still.” Golden eyes met her narrowed crimson ones with an apologetic expression. He gently took her arm that remained hooked under Edgar’s, giving her little range of motion. “This is gonna pinch.”

“Seriously? You’re going to drug me? How upstanding of the prestigious red army-” It took only seconds once the sedative was injected into her vein. Her anger subsided and her body slacked as she fell unconscious.

Edgar bent to slip his hand under her knees to lift her light body up. She seemed smaller somehow, more innocent. He’d hardly think that she was a skilled thief and con artist, but he knew more than anyone how appearances could be altered in one’s favor.

**********

The wood creaked but refused to give. Aster kicked her foot against side of the bed, tugging on the chain that connected the other half of the cuff to the headboard. She grunted in frustration.

“That won’t work. Those are magic cuffs.”

“I know how they-- work!” Aster responded, slamming her foot into the frame again, causing the bed to bang against the wall. Her cuffed wrist ached, bright red from the abuse she caused herself.

Jonah stood absolutely bewildered at her actions. A crease formed between his brows. “Why are you so obstinate?” The best course of action would be for her to comply, but she fought despite the clear outcome.

Aster brushed the stray white hairs away from her face, huffing softly. “If you’re going to arrest me, then do it already.” It made little sense to her as to why they hadn’t tossed her in a cell yet.

“We have no intentions of putting you in jail.”

All her movements stopped; crimson eyes searched his features for lies but found none. Aster gave a half-hearted tug on the chain. “So, you chain up teenage girls for some fun?” Her insinuation received a disgusted eye roll.

“Hardly.” Jonah refused to give any more response to her childish taunts. Instead, he crossed the room to her. “I’ll remove this if you’ll behave. King Lancelot is waiting to speak to you.”

“About?”

“You’ll simply have to go and find out.” Jonah released the spell, amber irises carefully watching for her attempted escape. The less belligerent he was, the less the girl seemed to fight.

She was terribly confused. Suspicious. Aster was confident that she could escape with only Jonah in the room, and it wouldn’t be difficult at all. Perhaps if she relocated to Black Territory; they’d simply leave her be.

But...

“Fine, which way?” Idle curiosity took over.

Jonah relaxed at her compliance, not in the mood to give chase at the late hour. “I’m pleased you’ve learned when to concede. Follow me.” He checked every few steps that she followed.

Outside the room, Aster scoffed quietly. “Don’t get too excited. I haven’t agreed to anything-”

“Now, now. You haven’t heard our offer. It might be of interest to you,” Edgar interjected, leaned against the wall. It made more sense why Jonah had released her before getting an answer. If she had run, someone was waiting just beyond sight to apprehend her again.

It was slightly irritating that they continued to keep up with her. But, what else would one expect from the prestigious Red Army?

The building had expert architecture, unlike anything that she’d seen in the small town on the outskirts of the territory. With Edgar trailing behind her like a silent warning, Aster had little choice but to be the sheep herded where they wanted her. Even if she could get a window open, a jump this far up without anything to break the fall would only result in broken bones.

Aster despised captivity, but not more than she disliked pain.

A single chair sat before the desk, especially placed there for her. Jonah took his spot standing beside the seated Lancelot, and Edgar remained somewhere behind her, likely guarding the door should she try to flee. Only the highest three ranks were present.

“This whole silent, scary boss tactic isn’t going to work. Let’s skip all the veiled threats and get to the point,” Aster said, plopping down in the chair and crossing her legs. The fact that the King of Hearts actually did make her quite a bit nervous would remain a secret to only her.

But to her surprise, he only inclined his head once and began to speak. “In exchange for overlooking all your crimes, and the list is quite extensive, you will become a spy for the Red Army.”

“I’m sorry-- what?”

Surely, she’d heard him wrong. Aster’s gaze flickered between the King and Queen, neither of which had any signs of deceiving her. They were entirely serious. This didn’t even make the list of things she’d thought this might encompass.

“What is unclear about the offer?” Lancelot questioned back, icy blue eyes not revealing any secrets to the teenager.

“The part where three adults want a sixteen-year-old to be a spy for them. Don’t you have trained soldiers who can do it? I mean, I get it. I’m really good at what I do, but how desperate do you need to be to bring in a teenager?” This must be a trick. A set up. Maybe the thief charges weren’t enough, and they wanted to make her into a scapegoat.

Lancelot sat back in his chair; hands folded on his lap. “This particular mission requires for the enemy to have no indication that the Red Army is responsible. I’ll forewarn you, if you refuse, charges will be drawn up and you will pay for all your crimes.”

“Ah, so this is blackmail.”

“Think of it as a job offer,” Edgar interjected, leaning his arms against the top of the chair. He adored the way she didn’t startle at his sudden appearance. With a little more training, she’d certainly do well as a spy. “And you’ll be compensated, starting with a free place to stay and access to meals. I’m sure we could arrange for anything you might want.”

Aster was speechless, which was a very rare occurrence. It would be one very cruel joke if this were a lie. And yet, on the other side if it were a genuine offer, she couldn’t refuse. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she mulled over her options before asking, “Why me?”

“There is no record of you in either territory, not of your birth, of any family. You’re a blank slate, a ghost. We can create an identity to use that would be impossible to unravel,” Jonah answered. He didn’t agree with this idea. Too many variables, and there was no way to fully prevent her from betraying them, even with the promise of her freedom and riches.

“Okay, what exactly do you want me to do?”

Steal a few files, lead some soldiers in the wrong direction. Either of those would be simple to do. The affairs of Cradle didn’t interest her. In reality, the Army didn’t care for her, it didn’t fight for her freedom. It only served those in powerful positions. People like her were made to be used and thrown away.

But for now, Aster was okay with that.

“It won’t be some months, as you’ll require extensive training in various subjects, however...”

Extensive training? The words made her shift in her seat, uncomfortable with what that mean.

“You will infiltrate the Black Army, seeking refuge from our army, and report back on all their plans of attack and movements. Once the war is won, the charges will be forgiven, and you will be free.”

Free. Was one of her profession ever truly free?

Aster kept a policy of not thinking too far ahead, instead focusing on the moment at hand that she could control. A wicked grin spread across her lips.

“I’ll do it.”

Maybe if she didn’t end up dead from this, she’d know what freedom he spoke of.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #edgar bright #lancelot kingsley #jonah clemence #kyle ash #aster #ikerev oc #a chaos child

14 notes · View notes

langdxn · 5 years

Text

salvation part i | outpost!michael x fem!reader

SUMMARY: An unexpected delivery of apples arrives at Outpost 3 — but why?

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, pregnancy, sorta implied breeding kink, soft!Michael and a slight timeline meddle.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

A/N: Taking a brief break from the shameless smut in exchange for a little play on the original Outpost timeline. I apologise profusely if it’s absolute bollocks, I just liked the idea. Dirty Michael will be back very soon, I promise!

part ii // part iii // part iv // part v

A horse-drawn carriage burst through the sinister fog enveloping Outpost 3, triggering a perimeter breach that scattered Venable, Mead and the Fist toward the entrance. Crimson floodlights littered the bronzed corridors in a luminous panic as the women in power met in the corridors.

“Could this be an attack, like those other outposts?” Venable stifled a gulp. Mead shrugged cluelessly, sparking the group to head outside toward the deafening metallic cacophony.

In the shadow of the flickering blood red lights flooding his office, Michael perched studiously at his desk, staring blankly at his open laptop while silently rattling through his mind for explanations for the disturbance.

He knew there wasn’t a scheduled invasion or another Cooperative delegate due at Outpost 3, he was the last visitor expected there before their planned overrun. He also knew there was to be no intrusion while he carried out his interviews for the repopulation of the Sanctuary, his ‘cooperating’ procedures were not to be disturbed under any circumstances.

Wandering away from his work to follow his train of thought, he creaked open his office door to see the commotion for himself. Leaning against the doorway, he caught sight of Mead and Venable skittering down a far corridor, the shorter lady carrying a crate and the strict leader holding an apple in her free hand.

An apple?

———

“I’ve always loved apples,” Michael muttered into the peel, taking a deep sniff at its ruby red skin before taking a generous bite and talking through his furious chewing. “Ms Mead used to leave me the one she placed in the pig’s mouth for roast dinners on Sundays.”

You blinked your doe eyes at him across the picnic blanket, watching him drift off into his memories in the middle distance. Happy memories before Hawthorne, before the Seven Wonders, before he lost the only other woman he trusted. Apart from you.

You reached for an apple yourself, Michael’s gaze watching your hands intently as if your every move were a work of art. This intimate beachside picnic was your idea, a break from his incessant Cooperative meetings and outpost visits before the apocalypse initiation, scheduled in two weeks time.

“Then I guess we’d better plant an apple tree in the Sanctuary before this whole thing kicks off,” you suggested, taking a shallow bite of the fruit, “can’t exactly survive the end of the world without apples.”

Michael’s gorgeous azure eyes met yours as his free hand swooped towards your abdomen. Drawing a deep, sentimental breath, he spread his fingers to take in every inch of your flat stomach beneath your dress.

“Where we’re going, sweetheart, we won’t need apples. One day, you’ll be giving me the best gift imaginable.”

———

As Michael spun on his painfully expensive heels, his eyes drew towards his previously empty office chair, now occupied. A smooth black silk dress draped over a lithe female perched on the seat, legs crossed elegantly and hands resting on her knees.

Michael’s heart soared.

“Y/N?!” His jaw nearly shattered on the floor as he belted across the room to wrap his arms around you in a desperate haze of disbelief, you jolted to your feet to meet his embrace. Crashing into you, Michael peppered frenetic pecks over your cheeks and lips, his lovelorn eyes and warming heart betraying his stern exterior.

“I—I thought you were dea—gone, th—they told me our Outpost was overrun?” He stuttered into the shell of your ear, squeezing his arms around you so tightly he might cave in your ribcage.

“I got out before they got in, I had to see you again baby,” you brushed your hands up and down his velour-clad spine reassuringly as he dipped his head into your shoulder. You swore you could feel his searing hot tears peppering your collarbone, but he had never cried in front of you before, to the point you weren’t even sure he could cry.

Out of his line of sight, you smiled to yourself that you got away with sneaking in without him sensing your presence. Michael’s powers were always useless against you, as if a steel wall barricaded between you both and he couldn’t break through it no matter how hard he tried. He would question your status as a mere mortal if he wasn’t already acutely aware of the emotional power you held over him ever since you first met. All you had to do was smile and he was yours in a heartbeat.

You both stood in the middle of his room in total silence for what felt like hours, clutching onto each other and never wishing to let go. The weeks you spent apart as he travelled to Outpost 3 were the longest you’d ever gone without Michael Langdon by your side. You breathed in his deep, woodsy scent like it was pure oxygen, planting soft kisses on his flowing golden curls whenever one grazed your cheek.

The silence between you broke momentarily as you heard distant thuds, staccato and final crashes as if the weight of bodies hitting polished stone floors.

“D—do the others know you’re here?” Michael spluttered as he lifted his face from your shoulder to meet your gaze, his cerulean irises more vivid than you’d ever seen before.

“Mead and someone else were too busy inspecting my carriage to see me sneak past them through the doors,” you assured your lover. “I learned that from you, when you creep out of bed in the morning to get back to work, thinking you haven’t woken me.”

He chuckled gently and leaned in for the deepest kiss you ever shared, easily surpassing your first kiss -- a rushed, heated affair that you had no idea would outlive the end of the world. Leaning into you to hold you as close as he could, he felt your bump make its presence known between you. He lowered a hand to greet your swelling abdomen, his cool rings brushing the silk that billowed over your form.

“How are you doing down there, little guy?” He gushed as he consumed the sight of his unborn heir before him. Your eyes darted down to your bump, stifling a soft chuckle under your breath.

“You mean little lady,” you grinned, meeting his gaze as his pupils burst their oceanic banks when they met yours, stunned and overwhelmed.

“It’s a girl?!” Michael squealed, blissful tears flowing so freely down his face and racing towards his lips as they parted in sheer disbelief. Once again, his intuitive powers over his lady failed him, but this time he delighted in his new revelation, planting a haunting, grateful kiss on your lips.

“This beautiful missus will be making an appearance any day now,” you reminded him, placing your hand atop his on your bump as your rings clink together harmoniously.

“Then I’ll set up a birthing pool in my quarters. Keep it full at all times, just in case.”

Michael’s hand waved effortlessly in the air, leaving you to assume he had accomplished that task in a matter of seconds without even exiting the room. His powers and his tricks always caught you off guard, no matter how many years you had spent with him before the apocalypse.

Michael applied a gentle, reassuring pressure onto your baby’s home, reminding the life inside that she will be worshipped and adored when she arrives. A blindingly bright life born in nuclear darkness. He consoled himself that it was only fitting that his child comes into the world under Hawthorne’s roof just as the man Michael Langdon was destined to become was born in these hallowed halls a matter of years before.

In processing the joyful news you carried with you, Michael’s thoughts darted to the situation that lay in the Outpost in which his entire family were now stood.

“Something’s happening here, I can smell it,” he quivered with a distinct tone of uneasiness, his eyes darting down to his feet despondently as his rigid confidence cracked, only ever in front of you. “The witches aren’t dead, I’ve failed.”

“My darling, look at me,” you urged his face upward with two fingers under his chin, beaming your usual warm, comforting smile. “We’ll all be okay.”

“Nobody knows I’m here. If anybody attacks you, if the worst happens,” your voice broke softly, trying your hardest to maintain a steely facade for your man. You cupped his cheek with your hand as he turned gently to plant a kiss in your palm. “I’ll be here to protect you, Boy Wonder.”

A curt knock at his office door shattered the silence between you. Ominous. Urgent. Michael’s eyes darted around the room, formulating the next step in his hurriedly altered plan.

“That’ll be Venable and Ms Mead,” Michael announced, pointing at another oak door in the rear corner of his office space. “Go to my quarters, there’s a passage that’ll take you straight there through the library. Hide in there and whatever you hear, whatever you see, whatever you think you’re seeing, don’t come out until they make the signal, do you hear me?”

“The signal? Wh—what signal? Who’s ‘they’?” You shed your hardened exterior in a panic. Michael was speaking in riddles you didn’t have the answers to, or at least not yet. He kissed your lips deeply and urged you in the direction of the door before sitting at his desk and opening his laptop to look busy when the women entered.

“When you hear them say these words, I need you to fight. I need you to do whatever you can to stop the witches. I’m relying on you, Y/N.”

“What words, Michael?”

“Tempus infinituum.”

—————————————————————————————————

A/A/N: Let me know if you’d like to be on a tag list, I’ve never done one before and I don’t want to bother anybody who’s not interested! x.x

#michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagines #cody fern #outpost!michael

356 notes · View notes

missdaviswrites · 5 years

Text

Fic Writer Intro--MissDavis

I just got back from @ficwritersretreat2019, where we talked about ways to support and promote other fic writers. One idea was to write introductory posts for ourselves, then reblog each others’ posts to spread the word to all our followers. Below I have tagged the other writers who went to this year’s retreat, but even if you’ve never been, feel free to introduce yourself and your own writing. If you tag me, I'll reblog your post, too!

I’m MissDavis and I've been writing BBC Sherlock fic since shortly after s3. Most of my work is Johnlock with some occasional Johnlockary thrown in for good measure. Here’s the link to all of my writing. If you’re looking for something specific, here’s a breakdown by ship and length, along with summaries from AO3:

Johnlock:

Long fics (50-100+K):

Breakable rated E After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of the Breakable Not Broken series.

Full Court Press rated E College basketball AU: Sherlock is the team’s best shooter. John is the team’s best ball-handler.

Side Effects rated E WIP, currently 10/17 chapters now complete! Sequel to Breakable. Life is a lot better for Sherlock and John than it was a year ago. Yes, John still can't walk and Sherlock is still on antidepressants, but they're married now, and almost everything else is back to their version of normal. They have a dog. Sherlock's solving cases again. But when Moriarty learns of their marriage, he escapes from prison and takes it upon himself to make their lives miserable. Is Sherlock really up to the challenge of catching a criminal whose only goal is to make sure that he and John don't live happily ever after?

Mid-length fics (10-35K):

Chaperones rated T "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?“

Christmas With You rated T Watch Sherlock, John and Rosie over the years as they celebrate the season as only they can.

Welcome Christmas rated T Join John and Sherlock at Baker Street as they celebrate Rosie's first Christmas and beyond. From Rosie crawling around the flat as they tiptoe around each other en route to their first kiss, to a happy retirement with a young grandson who wants to be just like Grandad and Papa, this fic shows how Sherlock and John celebrate Christmas together through the years.

Breaking Christmas rated M Join me in some established relationship Johnlock as I attempt to make Sherlock and John participate in some Seasonal Fucking Cheer. Ficlets that are part of the Breakable Not Broken series.

So This Is Christmas rated T Sherlock, John and Rosie celebrate the Christmas season with the rest of their family. It's not always perfect, but they all do their best. Most of the time. AKA the Christmas ficlets that include Eurus.

Clutter-Free rated E 5 times John made Sherlock clean up the flat and one time he didn’t have to.

Short fics (2K-9K):

The Librarians of Baker Street rated E Sherlock is a cataloguer who's forced to work the reference desk once a week. Which he hates. Or at least, he used to hate it, until the library hired a new reference librarian. Guess who?

Just a Touch rated E John has trouble falling asleep these days. There’s one thing he can do that always seems to help, but he’s stuck in this hotel room with Sherlock and doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. How will he ever find relief and a good night’s sleep?

If You Lead Me rated M Enough time has passed since Mary’s death that John is finally ready to start a new relationship. With Sherlock, he hopes. But given Sherlock’s stated aversion to romantic entanglements, John is a bit worried about being rejected, and doesn’t know how to proceed. Fortunately, there’s someone who can help him along.

Sherlock Is Actually a Cat Person rated E John brings home a kitten. Sherlock is not okay with it.

The Last Time Alone rated E But it wasn’t enough, not for John. He needed more. He needed someone to hold besides a child, and someone to kiss on the lips and not just the top of the head. He needed sly looks across the dinner table and to know if he put Rosie to bed early he might emerge from her room to find a candle lit and dessert served just for two.

The One Where No One Proposes rated G Sherlock inherits his parents’ wedding rings. It’s ridiculous that they mean something to him. He doesn’t plan to do anything with them. Sentiment.

Equal Footing rated E Sherlock had certainly never shown any interest in women’s footwear, or in seeing John appear as anything but fully male. But five extra inches—that opened up all sorts of interesting possibilities.

Very short fics (under 2K):

Dirty Laundry rated E If they got far enough along, John knew he would stop noticing the steady clanking thump of the washer, but so far he’d been unable to keep himself from being distracted.

A Boyfriend in Need rated G John's in medical school now, but it's Sherlock who's taking care of him today. A sequel to Full Court Press.

Rosie and the Rainbows rated M Sherlock isn’t exactly opposed to Rosie joining the Girl Guides, but he doesn’t really see the appeal, either. It ends up being much worse than he imagined.

To a Better Year than Last rated G After the life-altering events of the last twelve months, John is more than ready for the new year to begin. Short sequel to Breakable, from John's POV.

Training rated G Sherlock had terrible running form; they would have to work on that later. For now, John just ran, happy that for once Sherlock was the one chasing after him.

Honey Bee rated G Rosie gets stung by a bee. It’s not a big deal, except that it is.

He Sees You When You're Sleeping rated T Sherlock and John return to the Holmes’ family home for Christmas to find that Mummy has redecorated.

Wrong Disc rated G Two years later and DVDs that Mary made before she died are still showing up every now and then. Thankfully.

The Cute One rated G "This post says that whenever there are three people, there must be one who's the clever one, one who's the cool one, and one who's the cute one.” Rosie looked from John to Sherlock and back again. “So which of us is which?”

Better rated G Sometimes the world just calls for a bit of comfort. A 221B ficlet.

Let's Go on a Family Holiday (& Then Not Leave the Room) rated T Sherlock looked up, noting that John’s bare chest lacked the glossy sheen of suncream that he had been anticipating. A 221B ficlet

Johnlockary

Could Be Fun 36K words, rated E This is the first fic I started writing when I got into the Sherlock fandom. John, Sherlock and Mary embark on a new stage of their relationship. Nine chapters of smut and snark, canon-compliant through series 3.

The Life We Choose 16K words, rated M Based on the "30 Days of Sherlock Challenge,” a series of ficlets from the points of view of Sherlock, John, Mary, and, of course, Alice Watson: I have three parents. Some of my friends have three, too, or even four, but none of them has three who all live together, which makes me the luckiest out of all my friends.

Imagine the Christmas Dinners 15K words, rated M A series of Christmas-themed ficlets, featuring Sherlock, John and Mary over the years, with appearances by Baby Watson, Mummy Holmes, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

Better Off Together 9K words, WIP, now complete at 16K! Rated M What if everyone lived happily ever after? Yes, I’m still writing this, maybe 1 or 2 chapters left to go!

An Afternoon Interruption 7K words, rated E Still the only John/Sherlock/Mary/Sally fic on AO3!

The Clothes You Once Wore 4K words, rated E Mary took a deep breath and conceded to herself that maybe she did want to put on the assassin outfit and tie him to the bed and have her way with him. Maybe Sherlock had just known it before she did. Possibly my favorite short fic I’ve written.

Got You Pegged 2K words, rated E Sherlock could think of six different ways they could make it fit using common household items he had in the flat, but he didn’t think he could wait that long.

The Space Between 2K words, rated E This one is really more Johnlock than Johnlockary. Written as part of the Come At Once 24-hour porn challenge.

Safe Not Sound 2K words, rated E "Oh, come on. I'm willing to put up with all this 'gun safety' nonsense you and John are insisting on, the least you could do is give me what I want in return."

Brand New Day 1500 words, rated T Breakfast, babies, and three people trying to do their best.

While You Were Sleeping 1K words, rated E “We—” Mary started and Sherlock pressed his fingers a bit harder against her leg. She inhaled. “He’ll wake up.”

Storage Space 695 words, rated M Sherlock has his own space at John and Mary’s house now. The first fic I ever posted!

Bed rated T It’s a bit tight, but they all fit. A 221B ficlet.

Other Ships or Ship-free

All We Have 5K words, rated T, Gen. My angsty, pre-series 4 interpretation of what might have happened to a third Holmes brother.

One Night, Twenty Weeks 4K words, rated E, Mary/Molly. Mary has a problem. Molly helps her out.

Actually, the Baby Sits on You 3K words, rated G, Gen. Sherlock watches the Watsons’ baby for the first time.

Tea for Three 2K words, rated E, Mrs. Hudson/Mrs. Holmes/Mr. Holmes. Mrs. Hudson had been with many men over the years—older, younger, single, divorced, married and seeing her on the side either secretly or openly—but this was the first time she had ever been with a man while his wife lay right beside them.

Tiny Little Pieces 1594 words, rated G, John/Mary. They watched to the end of the DVD; Sherlock smiled and winked at them and John flicked off the screen again. “So. That’s Sherlock.” He gave her a smile that was even more forced than the one Sherlock had just displayed. “It’s funny. I’d almost forgotten what he sounded like.”

Not in the Job Description 1,505 words, rated E, Sherlock/Sally. The case has Sherlock stumped, and John’s not around to help him focus. Someone has to step up and help him clear his mind.

Once He Is Gone 1K words, rated T, Gen. John is fine at Sherlock’s funeral. Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s been to funerals for so many of his friends. Why would Sherlock’s be any different?

When Mary Met Sally 766 words, rated G, Gen. Sally stops by Baker Street with a case but finds out that Sherlock isn’t home.

Kick Gen, rated G. Mary is pregnant, John’s not speaking to her, and Sherlock’s still in hospital. A 221B ficlet.

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

Tagging: @hubblegleeflower @pipmer @pippn-frodo @totallysilvergirl @daringlydomestic @prettyrealisticjohnlockfanart @cumberqueer @addictedstilltheaddict @disaronnus @weneedtotalkaboutsherlock @quantum-sparrow @blogstandbygo @amindamazed @fearlessdiva930 @onwallsiwrite

and tagging *anyone* else who wants to share--really, feel free to promote your fic!

#fic writer intro #sherlock fic #johnlock #johnlockary #my fic

229 notes · View notes

suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

Text

Bubble Shit (The Borderlands Series, Part 9.)

Series description: Not many people had the chance to see a vault or to mean anything in the world of Pandora. Will a hardly built relationship in the loneliness of the desert would have the potential to change anything in the world of anarchy and chaos - or will the friends try to murder each other?

Part Summary: Along with landing on Eden-6, you actually had to go through the plan to know how many people you recruted and how much of a chance you might stand.

Warnings: A lot of guns, violence, reader is a tough badass - not a vault hunter tho. They’re badass and don’t give a fuck. And Scooter is a dumb bitch, as always.

Word count: 2 K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad @mayacaroni (maybe you’ll like the series and you’ll stick around, I just thought you might wanna get notified!)

Series master list: H E R E

In every meaning of the phrase, it was sir Hammerlock to the rescue. It also turned out that sir Hammerlock was the one who Scooter had contacted and the one who was willing to go with you on the suicidal mission along with his lifetime partner, Wainwright Jakobs - who turned out to run the whole Jakobs company alter. Which was exciting you - you were just too furious to show any emotion.

"Thank for savin' our asses back there. I couldn't exactly handle the landin'." - Janey smiled at the duo driving the car while the rest of you sat in the trunk pressed on each other. It was rather uncomfortable for everyone, but everyone shut up so you wouldn't start another conflict.

"No problem, miss Springs. Wainwright and I knew about your planned arrival and as soon as you weren't on the spot on time, we knew something went wrong. Excuse us for arriving as late as we did, it wasn't the simplest task to find you in here." - Sir Hammerlock answered nonchalantly and you looked at that dude with a furrow. It wasn't that you hated him, but you were too angry to even say thank you. Scooter was pressed up to your side and you tried to scoop away to Rayray's side without a stroke of luck. That gross son of a bitch was just pressed to you and you could say that it makes him extremely happy.

"No problem, Hammylock! How had ya been? Ages since I saw ya for the last time!" - Scooter yelled directly to your ear and you were just ready to strangle him to death when the nearest chance comes by. That guy was just a pain in your ass.

"It was rather difficult, Scooter if I might say. I had a hard time accommodating here on Eden-6, but the fauna gives me much more choices than the Pandora's did!" - Hammerlock's big, rosy lips curled into a happy smile and you almost melted under the look he gave to Wainwright. These men were in love, there was no doubt about it. And you were with love at their idea of love.

"I have a new girlfriend, see?!" - Scooter yelled all over the car and suddenly, you two were the main interest of everyone. You were his what? He said what? Your patience was wearing thin and Scooter seemed to just make himself sure he'll piss you off as soon as he can. - "Ya have a similar arm, that's super cool!" - Athena was just as confused as you were along with everyone else in the car. Exactly since when you became his girlfriend? Did you miss that? Was he assuming this based on the fact you two held hands for about ten minutes? Was Scooter actually five? You moaned in distress and bit your lip.

"I see. Nice to meet you, miss! My friend's friends are my friends!" - Hammerlock turned at you with a smile and offered you a handshake. He had the metallic hand on the same side as you did - on his left. - "By any chance, are you two distantly related?" - Hammerlock asked with a furrowed face and you almost choked at the question once again.

"I haven't met this dude until two weeks ago. We're not even friends." - You yelled back at Hammerlock and he raised his eyebrows in wonder.

"I see, miss!" - He answered after a short while. - " You're stepping up your game, Scooter." - Hammerlock told the man beside you with a wink, whatever that meant. The rest of your way was almost awkwardly quiet since anyone knew why the hell Scooter would say that you two are in fact in a relationship. That dude seemed to be an actual five-year-old not having only severe brain damage, but showing a case of schizophrenia with seeing and feeling things that weren't based in reality at fucking all.

"This is some bubble shit." - You muttered out when you were getting off of Wainwright's car and almost hissed at when Scooter offered you his palm. No. Last time you held his hand, because you were scared to death, he figured out that you're dating.

But the amazement over Wainwright Jakobs' mansion was something that made you forget about everything as you tried to look at the house. Is was huge. Like fucking huge. You heard stories about this house being the foundation for every Jakobs rifle, revolver, shotgun, and stuff like that ever made. You loved to use the guns since you found yourself on Pandora’s surface, so this was like a beautiful dream.

"Are you shitting me?" - You looked at Athena and she gave an unknowing look back. - "This is the goddamn Jakobs mansion. Every Pandorian cowboy’s dream." - You whispered.

"That's true, miss. It's always nice to meet someone whos interest in my family's business... In a good way. And may I say, I haven't seen this shotgun for a long time." - Wainwright took the shotgun from your back and he skillfully flipped it between his fingers. - "I think that we don't make these for more than fifteen years. A true ancient one." - He put it back on your back.

"You-you’re... That Jakobs? Like that gunman Jakobs?" - You stuttered out, following him inside as Hammerlock offered everyone food and something to drink before a long meeting you were scheduled to have.

"As far as I am concerned, I think I am. I can show you some of my wares and maybe give you a good-luck gun, how does that sound?" - Wainwright smiled at both you and Athena entering the meeting hall by his side. You almost suffocated. That Jakobs was willing to give you one of his guns as a gift? This adventure was slowly looking better and better.

"You won't be going with us?" - Athena asked when she saw you being on the verge of screaming, laughing, crying, smiling, and freaking out.

"No, unfortunately, I have a family business I have to keep my eyes on, but Hammy will be accompanying your little party. He already contacted a lot of people, so you don't have to be alarmed, ladies." - The man smiled, yet you barely got a word from what he said. You were still drooling and having heart-eyes because of the offer you got. A Jakobs’ gun will be given to you as a good-luck gift. Oh, dear Buttstalion, this was your best day.

It was kinda funny seeing Rayray and Blindy not being accustomed to such a luxury - any member of your party was, but in fact, you at least were living like normal people. These bandits were living in Ham’s Creek, one of the creepiest looking assholes you've ever had seen. Hammerlock offered you plates of fresh vegetables and fruits, which almost made you cry since it felt like centuries since you saw normal food for the last time. All you were eating on Pandora was Skag bacon and home-made bread, sometimes you didn't eat at all and drank vodka only. And they even had some normal water and juice. That house was heaven and you didn't want to leave. Ever.

"Now that we’re in safety and everyone's here, we might go through the plan Scooter and I had put together, shall we?" - Sir Hammerlock smiled at everyone and adjusted the monocle with the broken glass he wore.

"We know that the distress call - if you wanna call it like that, came from Athenas. For those who might not know, this place was and is inhabited by sirens. So we knew that Maya is there possibly, which is why I didn't contact her for our cause - I'm sure she already knows what's heading their way." - He told you and suddenly, pictures of Athenas’ landscape appeared everywhere around you. It was a beautiful place - which you hummed to Athena while stuffing your face with slices of carrot.

"I tried my best with calling Brick, just as you said, Scooter, but he is off to his own business, I guess. Unfortunately, he won't be able to reach us. However, mister Mordecai had answered my call and he has only one condition - nothing shall happen to his new pet friend on our adventure." - Hammerlock smiled and when you saw pictures of these men, your breath got stuck for a moment. Youve only heard stories about Vault Hunters, since you were a child. But these men looked dangerous and unpleasant, especially Mordecai with his bottle of alcohol, just... Just like you were looking all the fucking time.

"I contacted miss Tina next, and I am courageous enough to say that she is more than thrilled to accompany us on our journey since she was screaming something including the world's bomb, mothersuckaz, and blowing up." - Another picture was showed to you and holy fucking christ, that girl looked insane. And that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. She looked nuts.

"Next on the list was mister Zer0, Marcus and Torgue, miss Gaige, mister Krieg, and mister Axton yet neither of them answered the call. And... The last one came to volunteer herself. This young lady’s name is Fiona and according to her words, she is a con-artist of sorts, as far as I was able to understand." - Hammerlock looked at Scooter. His eyes opened up and you didn't know what on Earth should be your response. You didn't know anyone from the names you've just heard.

"Naturally, I thought about the route we will have to take and to calm miss..." - He pointed your way since he hadn't even know your name. - "We won't be taking a flight by a rocket since our Fast Travel system is working just fine. We shall take a small detour to... Uh... Boom Town as it is called, to pick up Tina and mister Mordecai. Miss Fiona told me that she will meet us in Athenas. In my opinion, ten people, especially as dangerous as miss Tina, are enough to make a difference on the battlefield." - Hammerlock told each of you honestly. That sounded like a plan that someone thought about.

"And the attack, Hammerlock? How do we plan to do that?" - Athena next to you asked. Hammerlock nodded and pointed his finger at her, showing you other landscapes from Athenas.

"You had to notice that this terrain isn't exactly the most pleasant to have the surprise factor on our side. We talked with Scooter about this." - Hammerlock nodded and Scooter stood up.

"Janey and Pickle were using a thingy called Stingray on Elphis and I tell ya, man, that thingy is cool as hell. So, I thought about playin’ with the engine and gravity sensors a bit, makin’ it fly much higher than before! And we might need a machine to, ya know, even make us the damn car on that planet since I don't think it's connected to the network." - Scooter told Athena, and it could be heard that he's an expert in this area, and Janey jumped into the conversation with her engineering and mechanic talents.

"In that case, we have to do somethin’ about the core and the coverin’, mate, because I'm worried that this will be our biggest problem. Elphis didn't have atmosphere and Athenas do." - She said seriously and you looked at Wainwright with your heart-eyes again. Scooter nodded and both of them left the room to work on the machinery. Everything seemed to be too real for you. Just too real.

#borderlands #scooter Borderlands #borderlands 2 #Borderlands fanfic #scooter x reader #sir hammerlock #wainwright jakobs #eden-6 #athena borderlands #janey springs borderlands #*terminator laughter* i am back

9 notes · View notes

of-faunsandyellowflowers · 4 years

Text

i got tagged by @labyrinth1212 in order to answer ten questions then come up with ten for others to answer. we shall see if i can even come up with questions...ha

What was the first piece of art you can remember making as a child?

My mom is an artist, so she was always encouraging me to do artwork. i remember drawing a chickadee at around 7 years old that ended up being framed and sold at a charity auction. My mom had handed it the charity organizer and they decided to put it up for auction....it was pretty cool

Have you ever been able to sense the spirits around you? (ie house hobs & brownies, kobolds, domovoy, nisse, or even if you’re in the right area nymphs or court fae & plant/tree spirits and such)

Ever since i was little ive seen things, felt things, heard things, so forth. it got blocked when i got older but yes ive been able to. we have some local fae out in my backyard due to how much plant life we have on our land. That and I'm pagan and constantly working with spirits

What is one rule you created for yourself that you try to adhere to but have difficulty doing?

As of right now I would say buying things i do not need/binge eating when im in my depressive state

What is one rule others have created for you that you have intentionally broken, and does your defiance hold meaning to you?

When i was Wiccan, it was to not curse, not work with demons...so forth. i broke those, because i found out the Wicca path is...well not for me but also inherently biased towards magick and i do not like the idea that the only real magick is light magick, on top of the threefold law, their classification of deities alongside demons being viewed as evil (plus uh...the guy who created Wicca was a disgusting man. Wicca is 75 years old.) Broke that off and became pagan and luciferian which makes me feel much much better.

Are you an avid reader or consumer of other media? What sorts of stories do you like best? If not stories, what practical things have you liked best that you gleaned from reading/watching?

I LOVVVVEEEEEEEEE reading. But I also am a huge movie lover. more so than TV but i will watch TV series as well. My tastes for books mostly are fantasy, horror and romance. my favorite is fantasy with romance (but actually has a good storyline and isnt primarily focused just on romance.) My favorite media is horror, romance, fantasy, true crime and just bizzare documentaries.

Have you kept any toys or comfort objects from your childhood? What are they?

I have some porcelain dolls that are now in storage that my Grandma gave me, alongside some stuffed animals and books that my parents got me.

If there was one moment in time that you could alter, not just in your life but /any one moment/ with your own force of will imposed on actors/forces outside of human control, what would you alter and why? Or would you at all, and why?

Theres a lot honestly......I think though it would be my fifteenth year. prior to that, i was having some mental issues and bullying but my fifteenth year was the year that really spiraled. Some sexual trauma happened to me on my 15th birthday, then again 3 months later....and ever since then ive kinda had a pattern of dating men who have just abused me, sexually assualted me, so forth. I really wish i could take back a lot thats happened honestly.....maybe i wouldnt be so fucked up now idk

What’s a symbol you associate strongly with yourself? (Can be things like animals, plant types, pop culture, etc!)

White stag, elk/deer for animals, Elhaz rune, celtic swirl symbols that im blanking the name on, green, trees, and sunflowers

Have you had a moment which, for you, defined the meaning of happiness in a new way?

When I finally remembered my soul husband. He is everything to me....and I love him and miss him so much that I wish he was incarnated into this life with me now. No one can compare to the love i feel for him....

If you could ask any question of an all-knowing being and have it answer in full and complete honest detail, what would you ask it?

What is the reason that this will be my most painful/ hardest life? to Cernunnos. I know theres a meaning behind it, he probably wants me stronger....but FUCK

Questions of my own

1. If you have any past life memories, what are they? If you do not believe in past lives, why?

2. What is one thing about yourself you wish you could change?

3. What is one thing about yourself that you love?

4. What is the hardest food/dessert dish youve made and how did it turn out?

5. Do you have a skill thats unique? if so, what is it

6. Where have you traveled and where was your favorite?

7. Have you ever astral projected? If so, tell me about it.

8. What is your favorite song lyric?

9. How do you feel about aliens?

10. Favorite experience with a spirit/deity if youve had any?

I tag these people, but no pressure you dont have to answer mine! @angiethewitch @scarletarosa @chasingfae @crystalleighwitchery @wreckranger and anyone else who would like to do it

3 notes · View notes

multishipperlove · 5 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Caleb Widogast, Nott (Critical Role), Fjord (Critical Role), Beauregard Lionett, Caduceus Clay, Jester Lavorre, Yasha (Critical Role) Additional Tags: zemnian, Child games, family abduction, goblins mentioned, nothing explicit though, Original Character(s), more focused on Caleb and Nott and the oc Series: Part 4 of Zemnian Roots Summary:

The Mighty Nein find a little girl hiding in a closet in a ransacked home. Only problem is that she only speaks Zeminan, which means that Caleb has to find a way to entertain her while the others look for her family.

On days like these, Caleb really wished for their moorbounders to return. They had been on the road for hours, since the early morning, and the horses they had rented were just so much slower. It was still better than walking, especially in the heat, but it wasn't like the weather didn't affect the horses as well.

To make his day even worse, they were travelling on the outskirts of the Zemni Fields, had been for a while for their mission, and even though they were nowhere near the place where he grew up, it was putting him on edge. So far they had barely run into any other people though, and most of the few who did cross their path were travellers as well.

A voice from the front of their little troop brought him back to the moment, and not surprisingly, it was Jester who disturbed the weary silence they'd been riding in for the last half an hour or so. “Look Fjord, there's a farm ahead! Maybe they'll let us spend the night there, that would be a lot better than sleeping in the hut again.”

Fjord, who looked about as mentally present as Caleb had been, startled slightly, sending his horse involuntarily to the left. Getting back to his former position he looked ahead, finally noticing the old farmhouse as well. “Oh, yeah, sure. We could ask, at least.” Turning his head, he looked to everyone else in the group. “What do you guys think, should we stop for the night already?”

“Sure, why not,” Caduceus chimed in. “If not for the seven of us, at least the horses deserve a good night's rest.”

The rest of them mostly shrugged in answer or gave half hearted murmurs of agreement, which was apparently good enough for Jester. With some newfound vigor they all picked up their speed again, and the farm that had only been a little spot at the horizon so far quickly came closer.

When they finally reached it, Fjord was the first one off his horse. “Alright, I'm gonna ask if they got space for us and the horses, anyone wanna come?”

“Take Caleb with you, just in case they don't speak Common,” Beau told them, getting off as well before helping Jester (who didn't actually need help, but definitely seemed to appreciate it anyway).

“Good point,” Fjord agreed, stopping again to wait for Caleb now.

The wizard gave a soft sigh but nodded. “I, ah, alright. Sure. I guess I can come. But just so you know, it is improbable that the people here only speak Zemnian.”

“Still, can't hurt to have a local with me,” Fjord told him with a grin, and then lead the way to what looked to be the front door.

Only as they stepped closer did they realise that the door wasn't closed. It stood slightly ajar, not far enough for either of them to look inside yet though. Fjord frowned and looked back to Caleb, who placed a hand on his component pouch and gave a slight nod.

“Yeah, I thought it was a bit quiet,” Fjord muttered, taking another step closer and pushing the door open completely. “Hello?” he called out. “Anyone in here?”

When even waiting several seconds didn't reward them with a reply, they walked in. And the sight that greeted them wasn't pretty.

The door lead into a small hallway, but from their current position they could already see into the next two rooms, one a kitchen with a dining area, a big table that would easily seat more than the seven of them, and the other something more akin to a living room. Both rooms were completely ransacked.

Chairs were pushed over, every cabinet door opened, every shelf empty. The ground was littered with broken glass and porcelain, and what looked to be food stains everywhere.

They both started to move through the mess slowly, not sure if whoever had done this was still around. But really, they hadn't been quiet in their arrival. Caleb was pretty sure that, if anything wanted to attack them, it would have done so by now.

Fjord stopped by a red stain near the living room door, and it didn't take him long to confirm what Caleb had feared. “It's blood,” the half-orc told him. “It's not even completely dry yet... whatever happened, it happened recently.”

“We should get the others,” Caleb suggested. “Maybe we can find out more. And I don't think the attackers are still around, but still... safety in numbers, and all that.”

“You're not wrong,” Fjord agreed with a sigh. “Alright, let's go. I would like to help these people, if we still stand a chance.”

A few minutes later they had told the rest of the group what was going on, and were now split up throughout the house to look for anything useful. Beau and Nott hadn't been stoked about the idea of trying to help, arguing that they didn't even know if there was anyone left they could help, but they'd all known that their protest was token at best.

Caleb was looking for any magical means of destruction downstairs, when two screams suddenly rang from the room directly above him. One of them sounded suspiciously like Nott, and he immediately turned and ran up the stairs, hearing the others who had been downstairs with him right behind.

“Nott!” He pushed into the room first, seeing her frozen in front of a closet, both hands holding the door shut. “Nott, what's going on?” he asked, seeing how pale she suddenly looked and now also hearing the muffled screaming and crying that came from inside the closet.

“What's in there?” Beau asked, her voice already sounding slightly horrified as she stepped up behind Caleb. In the corner of his eye, he could see Yasha gripping her sword.

“A kid,” Nott finally answered, ears drooping and folding close to her head.

“A kid?! Then why the hell are you keeping her in there?” Fjord asked.

“Because she saw me and immediately started screaming! I don't think she's going to be very fond of this!” Nott hissed back, and gesturing to the entirety of her face as she did so. “Give me a moment.”

As the others watched, she took a second to cast alter self and turn herself into Veth. The crooked sharp teeth disappeared, along with the glowing yellow eyes and the green skin. In it's place once more stood a little halfling lady, features round and inviting and definitely a lot less threatening.

Once the disguise was complete, Nott carefully opened the closet door again. The crying didn't stop, and beside a mop of blonde hair they couldn't see anything yet with her standing in the way.

“Hey, hey there. It's okay, the, uh, the evil goblin is gone. Come on now, you're okay,” she told the child, in an attempt to calm her down. It didn't seem to work very well though, and Nott turned back to them with a bit of desperation on her face.

“I, uh, maybe one of you guys should go,” Fjord mumbled, giving the two humans of the party a pointed look. And while Caleb still hesitated, Beau nodded briefly and stepped forward, kneeling down beside Nott to be more on eye level with the child.

The appearance of a second person seemed to give her pause, at least, and Beau gave the kid her best version of a friendly smile. Which, surprisingly, was a lot friendlier than what she usually managed. “Hey. My friend is right, you know, you can come out now. You're safe. Don't you want to come out of that stupid closet?”

The girl just stared at her for a moment, with her lower lip still trembling. “Wo ist meine Mama?” she finally whispered, causing Beau to freeze this time. She had a vague idea of what the kid had just asked for, but that was definitely not Common what she had just heard.

“Caleb?” She looked over her shoulder, motioning for the wizard to come over. “Hey, Caleb, I think we need a translator after all.”

He frowned but didn't hesitate, quickly stepping closer to them, just as Nott got out of the way to let the two humans handle it. Along with Beau he kneeled down in front of the girl, taking in the terrified face and her torn clothing, the tussled hair. “Hey... kannst du mich verstehen?” he asked gently.

She nodded, slowly, as if she still didn't trust either of them. Which was very fair, Caleb wouldn't have expected her to trust them.

“Okay, das ist gut. Oder? Es ist viel besser wenn man sich verstehen kann,” Caleb continued, trying not to get into too much of a nervous ramble now that he felt solely responsible for somehow communicating with this child. “Bist du verletzt? Kannst du uns sagen was passiert ist, oder- oder vielleicht wie du heißt?”

“Mein Name ist Anna,” came the quiet reply.

“Und wie alt bist du?”

“Fünf.”

“Fünf? Das- ah, das ist ein gutes Alter. Willst du nicht rauskommen?” He offered her a hand, and after another moment of hesitation she took it and finally got up. She was still careful, and pressed closer to him immediately, holding on to his coat with a free hand.

Caleb cleared his throat and turned back to his companions, forcing a smile on his face. “Everyone, this is Anna, and she is five years old.”

“Has she told you what happened yet?” Fjord asked, and Caleb could feel the girl trying even harder to disappear into him.

“Ah, no. We didn't get that far yet.” He looked down to her, gently squeezing her hand once. “Das is Fjord. Ich weiß er sieht etwas... gefährlich aus. Aber er ist wirklich nett, versprochen.”

She nodded again but didn't move from her spot, watching them all with a wary eye. Caduceus spoke up next, and even though Anna jumped slightly at the deep voice, she seemed to find him less scary than Fjord. If the pressure she subjected Caleb's hand to was anything to go by.

“Maybe we should have this conversation somewhere else, bring her somewhere she feels more comfortable,” the firbolg suggested.

“What, like the rest of her house, which is equally in shambles?” Beau asked.

“Don't say it like that, you're only going to scare her,” Nott hissed, glaring at her friend now.

“It's not like she understands me in the first place.”

“We don't know that, she could understand more than we think, while just not being able to speak the language herself. For now, it's better to speak with some caution,” Caleb replied, getting involved again before the two could start arguing. “Maybe we just take her outside for now.”

The others agreed with that. So after making sure she would be okay with it, Caleb picked the girl up and carried her outside to where their horses were still waiting. He made sure that she could lean her head against his shoulder, trying to shield her from as much of the chaos as possible. Especially the blood.

Once outside, he put her back on her feet, but she still refused to let go of his coat for too long. “Kannst du uns jetzt sagen was passiert ist? Hast du irgendwas gesehen?” Caleb asked again, doing his best to ignore his friend's imploring looks. “Hast du dich selbst im Schrank versteckt?”

Only at the last question did she finally react and shake her head. “Nein. Mama hat uns gesagt wir sollen nach oben laufen, und Gregor hat dann gesagt ich soll in den Schrank gehen und ganz leise sein, bis sie wieder weg sind.”

“Wer ist 'sie'?”

“Die Goblins.”

That word made all of them perk up again, especially Nott. The difference in pronunciation was after all minimal enough that they still knew which creatures she was talking about.

Caleb nodded grimly. “Kannst du mir mehr erzählen? Egal was, alles könnte hilfreich sein.”

They talked for another minute or two, before he finally got up again and turned back to the group. “She says their family was attacked by goblins. They didn't see them coming, and by the time her mother realized what was happening, all she could do was try and send her children somewhere save. Looks like Anna is the only one who wasn't discovered.”

The others, having expected something like that, nodded slightly. Especially Nott seemed to be trying very hard to keep herself in check, and not show her anger around the little girl.

“How many people are we talking about?” Fjord asked, practical as always.

“Five. Her mother, her grandmother, and three older siblings,” Caleb told them. She hadn't mentioned a father, so he hadn't asked about one.

“That's a lot,” Fjord muttered, rubbing his chin for a moment. “Must have been a whole clan or something. We should be able to track that, right?” He looked around at the others, getting a few quick nods in response.

“If she could describe one of them, I could scry on them,” Jester offered. Her usually so bubbly nature had dimmed a bit under the circumstances, but she seemed all the more eager to help as she suggested that to Caleb, looking between him and Anna.

“I, uh, we can certainly try that,” Caleb agreed slowly. “I'm just afraid that the description of a five year old could be a bit vague. Maybe that should be more of a last resort?”

“You're just too lazy to translate,” Beau joked, but immediately got serious again. “No, I actually think you're right. And I'm sure we can start somewhere else. Like Fjord said, must have been a lot of goblins if they managed to drag five people with them. There are bound to be tracks of some sort here somewhere.”

“We should leave soon then, before we lose what little sunlight is left,” Yasha spoke. She'd been quiet so far, but the look in her eyes gave Caleb chills. “Nott, you should be able to help with this the most.”

“I'm staying here.”

Everyone turned to Nott in surprise, and not few of them confused. “But... this is pretty much exactly what happened to your family, too. Don't you want, I don't know, revenge?” Beau asked.

“Well, first of all, it wouldn't really be revenge, because this is a different clan than the one who took me and my family,” Nott insisted. “And second, someone clearly needs to stay behind with the girl, we can't just leave her alone again. And that someone is going to be Caleb, because he's the only one who understands her. So I'm going to stay here to protect Caleb in case they come back.”

Fjord huffed softly. “Not that I don't appreciate your protective instinct, but don't you think Caleb can defend himself? If anything comes?”

Nott just shrugged. “Maybe, but maybe not with a child hanging on to him at all times. Two people are better than one, so I'm staying.

“I would appreciate the help, actually,” Caleb told them. “She's right, I'm more vulnerable when I'm alone with her.” While he wasn't lying, he was mostly agreeing so the others would stop pressuring her into going with them. No matter her motive, he could understand if she wasn't in the mood to take on a clan of goblins after what they had done to her.

“Perfect, at least we will know you are save then,” Caduceus said with a smile. “Let's go. Just as Yasha has said, we do not want to waste anymore daylight.”

A last check on their weaponry, and then the five of them were on their way, Nott and Caleb staying behind with Anna. Once the others were gone and out of sight, Nott turned to her wizard friend. “What now? We can't really stand around here until they come back.”

“No, no I suppose not,” Caleb sighed. “I do not want to take her inside either though, not with the way it looks in there.”

“Stay here then, I will clean up a bit and you try to distract her,” Nott offered. But Caleb looked between her and Anna, seemingly becoming more and more uncomfortable.

“Distract her how? Nott, I've never- I'm not good with kids!” he whispered, desperately. “What am I supposed to do with her?”

“Just, you know, kids stuff,” she replied amused. “You were able to convince the Bright Queen to listen to you, I'm sure you'll be fine with a kid.”

“I'm not so sure about this,” he muttered.

Nott rolled her eyes and motioned Anna to come closer, giving her a warm smile. The girl looked at Caleb first, but then stepped closer to her.

“Caleb, ask her if she knows any games. Or what she likes to play with her siblings,” Nott said, only glancing at her friend briefly before focusing on Anna again.

Caleb looked confused but cleared his throat, addressing Anna directly. “Ah, meine Freundin hier möchte wissen ob es irgendwas gibt, was du gerne mit deinen Geschwistern spielst? Was für Spiele kennst du?”

Anna seemed to get what was going on, and with a slight smile she answered, looking more at Caleb than at Nott though. “Kennst du Klatschspiele?”

“She asks if you know any clapping games,” he relayed back to Nott.

“Well, do you?” she shot back. “Because she was very clearly not talking to me. Have fun.” And with that she gave a brief wave to Anna and left the two alone, Caleb barely suppressing a groan as she disappeared into the house.

Anna was still looking at him expectantly, so he walked over to a bench with her, in front of what looked like a stable, and they settled down there. “Okay, Klatschspiele. Ah, es ist etwas her, dass ich das gemacht habe, das musst du mir nachsehen.”

She just smiled widely and already grabbed for his hands, manipulating them until they were in the right position. Caleb couldn't help but compare it to teaching someone somatic figures, even if the thought was ridiculous. But the motions to the game came back easily to him, after all he had spend quite some time himself as a child playing this. The words did, too, to the incredibly silly game.

Bei Müllers hat's gebrannt -brannt -brannt Da bin ich schnell gerannt -rannt -rannt

Anna moved slowly, still very clearly leading the game for Caleb's sake. It shouldn't have been difficult, at least not for someone who regularly went through complicated sets of somatic gestures to save either himself or his friends, but Caleb found himself stumbling more often than not.

Da kam ein Polizist -zist -zist Der schrieb mich auf die List List List

The game was repetitive, to say the least, every line requiring the same set of movements. First, Caleb clapped his own hands together, then his right one against Anna's, then his own again, then his left hand against Anna's left. And every line ended with both meeting in the middle three times.

Die Liste die fiel in Dreck Dreck Dreck Da war mein Name weg weg weg Da lief ich schnell nach Haus Haus Haus Zu meinem Onkel Klaus Klaus Klaus

And at this point Caleb would have thought the game to be over, since these were all the lyrics he remembered. But Anna continued, her widening grin hinting at a glee that Caleb didn't quite understand yet. Until her lines got more and more absurd.

Der Klaus der lag im Bett Bett Bett Mit seiner Frau Elisabeth Elisabeth die lachte Der Busenhalter krachte

The girl was outright giggling at this point, barely getting through the lines. Caleb was surprised she'd even managed to get the word Busenhalter over her lips.

Der Bauch der explodierte Ein Baby rausmarschierte Das Baby war ein Mädchen Und zeigte seine Zähnchen

They finally finished, and Caleb gave her an amused look. “Das ist nicht unbedingt die Version die ich als Kind gelernt habe. Wer hat dir das beigebracht, huh?”

“Gregor,” she told him quietly, before laying a finger over her lips. “Aber nicht Mama sagen.”

He smiled back at her and zipped his mouth shut, sending her into another giggle fit. Just then, Nott came back outside, giving the two a fond look. “Seems like you were able to hold yourself after all.”

“Well, she sure knows some interesting words for a five year old,” Caleb joked. “But yes, I think we did okay. How's it looking inside?”

“Better. Come on, maybe we can find something to eat, too.”

Caleb agreed, relying their plans to Anna as she slowly calmed down again. Instead of walking inside by herself though, she insisted on being carried again. Caleb obliged.

“You know, if we're still looking to kill some time,” Nott offered, “I could teach her a few clapping games in Common, too.”

“But she won't understand them?”

“The words aren't too hard, and you can always tell her what it means,” she replied with a shrug. “It would be fun, come on.”

“Hmm. Anna, willst du Klatschspiele in Common lernen?” Caleb asked, and when he got an enthusiastic nod, he finally agreed with it as well.

“Great, I'll teach her “A half-orc went to sea”, first,” Nott said with a grin.

“Are you... are you sure that's how it goes?”

“Absolutely. Oh, and by the way, I'm not gonna tell anyone that you're a big softy if you agree to play with Luc the next time we're in Nicodranas.”

“Hmm. Deal,” he told her, thinking that was a very small price to pay for something he wouldn't have minded too much in the first place. But in order to keep it a secret, the others would first need to return anyway. Hopefully, with the rest of Anna's family in tow.

#critical role #cr2 #mighty nein #caleb widogast #nott the brave #zemnian #critical role fanfiction #fanfic #writing #mine

8 notes · View notes

mimzy-writing-online · 5 years

Text

10/10/10 Tag Game

Thank you to @emdop for tagging me in this. This is their tag game here

How it works, answer ten questions your tagger gave you, make ten new questions and tag ten new people to answer.

1. For any of your OCs: What’s their favorite drink?

Ulric: black coffee or cappuccino for a treat

Anna: Earl Grey tea

Felix: English Breakfast tea

2. What very specific thing do you like to write the most?

The scene when two characters sit down and talk, opening up to each other

3. Favorite Tropes?

Friends to lovers, slow burn friendship, slow burn romance, found family,

4. Least Favorite Tropes?

Enemies to Lovers with no friend stage,

5. What is something you’ve always wanted to write?

A Witch’s Memory is something I’ve wanted to write for the longest time, but other projects I think about a lot:

A whimsical magic in a completely different world. A Witch’s Memory is only a different version of our modern world, one where magic is normalized like science and technology. I want to write something in a fantasy world that completely turns everything we know upside down, with climates and natural environments only from our wildest dreams and an era that is only partially recognizable in its fashion and technology, pulling from every era into a wonderful cluster of confusion and fascination.

Soft-fantasy novel set in the 1990′s with 90′s era technology, libraries and librarian aesthetic, dragons, witches,

Most recently I’ve also been playing with the idea of a steampunk royalty story with a romance plot.

6. Do you make playlists for your WIP ideas?

Yes, and they usually either a “if this book was a movie this would be its soundtrack with this song for this specific scene” or it’s a “this would be this character’s personal playlist of favorite songs”. Anna, Ulric, and Felix have their own playlists.

7. When you’re having trouble writing, how do you inspire yourself?

I also make a pinterest folder for my WIP ideas, and A Witch’s Memory has its own board for its world building as well as a board for Anna, Ulric, and Felix. I look at that when I’m stuck and don’t know how to start or continue a scene.

If I’m drafting, I look back at my outline and work through what I have planned. Sometimes I have to deviate from the outline a little and figure out a way to reconnect back, or alter it altogether.

If I’m very stuck I go back to other works of fiction that have inspired me in the past, specific for that story. That includes rewatching them, rereading them, listening to soundtracks or looking at fan art.

I get out of the house and spend some time with a friend. My friend (A) and I usually work through a story problem by talking it out. (K) usually distracts me and takes me to random places. Sometimes I call or message (C) because she lives far away and we talk. They all help.

8. Where do your WIP ideas typically come from?

“I really like this story, but I kind of wish it went differently, involved these tropes, had this world building, had these characters, etc.”

Nothing is really original, no matter how far back in fiction you go. Everything is inspired from something else, so for me what I do is find the aspects of fiction I love most and see what I would do with them personally.

Example: witches are cool, but if it takes place in the modern world then it has to be a secret and humans can never know, but if it takes place in a hard-fantasy historical world then everyone knows about magic and has access to it somehow. - - - > And it becomes the whole premise for this world I built

Example: why do werewolves hate being werewolves? And why must they blackout during a full moon and go total beast? And they’re either always alone or there’s this whole alpha pack thing which isn’t technically true of real wolves - - - > and it becomes a thing that werewolves are proud of being werewolves, they easily form bonds and friendships with other people, even non-werewolves, and when the full moon comes around werewolves run in a group as a fun activity, something they enjoy

Example: Amnesia makes for an interesting story, but it’s not very realistic when you know actual medical stuff, and it’s always one-sided so people are always trying to make their loved one remember or trying to “reconnect” in the exact same way they did before - - - > Which lead me to amnesia through magic curse and mutual loss of memory, forgetting the entire friendship, so now they genuinely start from scratch

Example: Long distant pen-pals is a popular trope, especially since the invention of the internet, but every time I see it, it involves people who have met in real life even if it was only for a moment and they never knew it / didn’t give each other enough information to figure it out. - - - > It turns into, they couldn’t possibly have known each other before, they live in different parts of the world, but they want to meet one day, and then by a twist of fate (or meddling) they do meet

9. If your OC was a breakfast food, what would they be?

Felix: unsweetend English Breakfast tea and jam toast: When I say jam toast, I mean his humor is a little dry like toast, but he’s still enjoyable company, sweet if he wants to be. He can also be a little bitter sometimes, the kind of person you need to know a little bit before you develop a taste for it

Anna: Earl Grey tea and honey on an English Muffin: she’s calming company but complex like the flavor of earl grey tea. As for the English Muffin, it’s a joke that she’s English-adjacent, not actually British. She spent her first eight years in America and then lived in the U.K. with Felix’s family for the next eight until their family moved to America. Her accent is slightly changed and she uses some U.K. English vocab instead of American English, so most people think she’s British. English muffins aren’t actually English. They’re an American breakfast food based on crumpets.

Ulric: A cinnamon roll and cold butter. This is a weird one. I think if you met Ulric and got to know him, he’d be someone you’d want to protect. He’s polite, kind, and shy. Life keeps throwing him lemons (literally throwing, between his emotionally abusive father and suddenly being blind, dealing with new anxiety/depression after going blind, etc) but Ulric’s just trying to do his best. Absolute cinnamon roll. But that’s not a something he’d let you see. Most people don’t know about that part of his life, so he’s like cold butter. He’s friendly but it takes a while for him to warm up and soften those walls to let you in.

Mason (Ulric’s best friend, who I must add): sweetened coffee - very energetic and hyper, a sweetheart of a friend. There’s no coffee-bitterness, by this I mean that it’s easy to enjoy his friendship, you don’t need to develop a taste for it like you do with black coffee. (Mason is also a precious cinnamon roll if you ask me)

10. Explain one of your WIP ideas in the most ridiculous way possible?

I’m going to do this AO3 tagging system style

A Witch’s Memory

Multi, T, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Anna St. Claire & Ulric Matthews, Anna St. Claire & Felix Robbins, Felix Robbins & Ulric Matthews, Felix Robbins/Hayden Watson

Anna St. Claire, Ulric Matthews, Felix Robbins, Mason Shepherd, Elmsley St. Claire, Veronica St. Claire, Hayden Watson, Katarina Matthews, Tobias Matthews,

Memory Curse, Amnesia, Pen-Pals, Found Family, Adoptive Family, Slow Burn Friendship, Enemies to Friends, Platonic Soulmates, M/M Slow Burn Romance

Disability, Blind Character, Bisexual Character, Three Bi Disasters, Trans Character, Elmsley is trans, Elmsley is a Good Uncle, Tobias Matthew’s Terrible Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Emotional Abuse

Magic, Witches, Werewolves, Werewolf Ulric, Witch Anna, Witch Felix,

Graphic Violence is only in two scenes, two different characters get punched, and there’s some blood

Tagging: @snowblossim @thephantomofwriting @novel-scribe @the-moving-finger-writes @sapphoopages @owlsofstarlight @mayvinwrites @belles-library @maggie-wolff-writes @thewritingpirate

Your Ten Questions:

1. What’s your favorite trope to read but not to write? Or vice versa, to write but not read?

2. Some of your favorite aesthetics?

3. Ideal writing environment? (Time, place, sound, drink/snacks)

4. What’s your favorite side character in your WIP?

5. How would your OCs interact with your favorite characters from other works?

6. An embarrassing fact about your OC that they would never tell anyone?

7. What book do you think should be made into a movie?

8. What’s the last mean thing you did to your OCs?

9. Write an Incorrect Quotes post between your OCs

10. I’m stealing from emdop too! Explain one of your WIPs in the most ridiculous way possible?

#writeblr #writing community #WIP #tag game #writing #A Witch's Memory #my wip

4 notes · View notes

kathyprior4200 · 4 years

Text

Blue Raven 666: Exterminators and theories

BlueRaven 666 is a YouTuber who has created videos about many intriguing theories for the web series, Hazbin Hotel. BlueRaven 666's channel. Gray the Exterminator is his original character. https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCXaxReyJNiKDJQ6g75jigxg I'm posting the transcripts/fanfiction to show support.

Gray is an Exterminator angel OC created by BlueRaven 666, the YouTuber’s demon OC name. Gray has blue eyes, a blue smile and an X over their right eye. A blue tipped horn is their unique physical trait.

The Golden Rule of the Exterminators by BlueRaven 666

Gray: “Greetings mortals. The diabolical cretin known as Blue Raven has kindly asked me to explain the rules we Exterminators follow during Hell’s annual extermination. These rules ensure that as many of us survive the full 24 hours we spend in Hell as possible, while simultaneously taking out as many sinners and demons as we can.”“There are some rules that are quite obvious. Don’t hold back. Kill as many of the damned in your line of sight as possible. Don’t let the denizens of Hell get ahold of your weapon. Spare nobody, no matter what they may say or do. And perhaps the most important rule of them all: be wary of the buildings you pass by and those you choose to enter. Now you may be asking yourselves, why is this rule so crucial above all the others? Most would think that if the Exterminators aim to kill as many sinners and demons as possible, the buildings would be the number one spot to find those that try to hide from us…and you would be right in your assumptions. The denizens of Hell who have witnessed past exterminations know to take shelter in the nearest building.”

“The problem for us comes in when it comes down to fighting as creatures with wings. Fighting in close quarters with a demon can become very problematic if we aren’t able to access an immediate escape route. We are aware that Hell is home to the likes of Alastor, the Radio Demon, Vox the Television Demon as well as our fallen brother, Lucifer. Not even a dozen Exterminators possess the power it takes to take even one of those individuals down. Entering a building where any one of them could be hiding could be a death sentence for us. The only exception for this rule is if a building is already old and dilapidated, or if it is one that has suffered a lot of external damage from the turf wars that constantly raged throughout the rest of the year. These buildings are usually obliterated on site and all sinners and demons taking shelter there are swiftly dispatched if they can be managed.”

“In summary, the Golden Rule of the Exterminators is to avoid fighting in close quarters. Being outside is needed in order to efficiently dodge fatal blows that could be dealt by an opponent and there are plenty of denizens in Hell that can define themselves on the streets on extermination day anyway. While we’re fully willing to lay down our lives for this tradition every year, it’s most certainly better to be safe than it is to meet a likely slow bloody death at the hands of a demon. That’s all I have for you today. Have a blessed day and God be with you.”

Gray the Exterminator Q and A Part 1 by BlueRaven 666

Gray: “Greetings mortals. It has been brought to my attention that my presence in Blue Raven’s domain has been met with overwhelmingly positive reactions from his loyal followers. Many of you seem to be curious as to who I am as well as well as the overall nature of Exterminators as a species. Today, I will be answering some of your questions in order to shed some light on what exactly Exterminators do and how we think. I have selected 20 questions to cover that will allow me to help you become more familiar with who I am as an individual. Worry not, if your question doesn’t get answered. With an ever-increasing number of questions being asked daily, many will have to be answered in later installments. Patience is a virtue, embrace it.”

Question 1: How did you get lost?

Gray: “Ah yes. I believe Blue Raven mentioned that our meeting was caused by me getting lost shortly after Hell’s most recent extermination. I was knocked unconscious whilst battling a demon. My fellow Exterminators presumed I was dead and left me behind. As a result, we do not collect the mortally wounded or deceased once the extermination has ended. While Heaven is visible from the skies of Hell, returning is not as simple as flying back. Doing so would be the equivalent of trying to fly from Earth to the moon. Blue Raven has decided to take me in, forging a fragile truce between an angel and a demon until the situation is resolved.” Question 2: What is your gender/sexuality?

Gray: “Most Exterminators are ambiguous to gender though many believe us to be female, but we tend to leave it up to the individual to decide which pronouns they prefer to use. My preferred pronouns are “they” and “them.” Sexuality: asexual.”

Question 3: Were you born in Heaven or on Earth?

Gray: “I was born into a family of seasoned Exterminators in an area of Heaven that is inhabited by Exterminators exclusively.”

Question 4: How nervous were you during your first extermination?

Gray: “The level of anxiety an Exterminator feels during their first extermination is usually high. The first thing we’re told by the lead Exterminator before we are sent into Hell is that death is a very real threat. New recruits are ordered to group up with three to five more experienced angels in order to stand a better chance at surviving our first extermination day. I was not scared of dying personally. It was the long list of demons that were known for killing Exterminators that I feared facing.” Question 5: What is your preferred method of killing demons?

Gray: “We are urged to make the death as swift and painless as possible by our superiors. A sword or spear through the head is my preferred method used to dispatch a demon.”

Question 6: Can demons kill angels?

Gray: “They can and they do if they are powerful enough. We are not invincible.”

Question 7: What is your rank in the Exterminator hierarchy?

Gray: “I am what would be referred to as a soldier. Soldiers are the lowest rank and are basically seen as cannon fodder until they gain more experience.”

Question 8: Did you choose to become an Exterminator?

Gray: “In the grand scheme of things, no. Those who are born into families of other Exterminators are expected to join them once they are of age. Failure to comply would mean an immediate banishment to Hell as we are naturally too bloodthirsty to be good for anything else around Heaven.” Question 9: Why do Exterminators look like demons?

Gray: “The armors’ design was thought up decades ago by an Exterminator by the name of Thistle. (English name meaning “prick” or “thorn”). He used the horns of a demon to blend in with Hell’s populace in an attempt to avoid being attacked. Tragically, he was killed after being mistaken for a demon by his comrades. They took his brilliant idea back with them, altered it so that it was more distinguishable from the populace in Hell and the final design has remained ever since.”

Question 10: Are you a fallen angel?

Gray: “I am not. I realized the situation I’m currently in may make it seem that way, but I still hold my status as an Exterminator.”

Question 11: Why is the tip of one of your horns blue?

Gray: “The original version of this question mentions an imp by the name of Blitzo.”

Blue Raven: “It’s pronounced “Blitz.”

Gray: “Come again?”Blue Raven: “It’s Blitz, the o is silent.”

Gray: “Why do you miserable brutes insist on having such peculiar names? Regardless, this imp is known to have white patches on one side of his face just as I can be identified by the blue color on the tip of my right horn. These unique traits are known to Exterminators as identity tags, as my coloration is fairly unique amongst Exterminators in general. These details make it easier to tell other angels who I am when I’m on duty.”

Question 12: Are there Exterminators trying to kill all of the demons during the Extermination?

Gray: “Many will try, even though it is futile. Hell is many times larger than the Earth and its population can be more than double on the day of extermination. Even if the amount of sinners was half, we wouldn’t be able to kill them all in 24 hours.”

Question 13: Have you ever had to fight someone you loved?

Gray: “No. Any angels that fall from grace nowadays are typically slaughtered by Hell’s denizens within weeks following their banishment.” Question 14: What is the punishment for breaking the Golden Rule?

Gray: “The Golden Rule of the Exterminators is not law. It’s treated more as an unspoken rule that is learned the hard way. As such, the consequences of breaking the Golden Rule of the Exterminators is usually severe bodily harm and death.”

Question 15: Have you ever met Alastor, Vox, or Lucifer?Gray: “I’ve been acquainted with our fallen brother Lucifer as he and the Lord tend to contact each other every great once in a while. If memory serves, I’ve never had a negative encounter with him. I’ve only caught glimpses of Alastor and Vox. Safe to say, I don’t wish to get myself wrapped up in a battle with either of them.”

Question 16: Is there an overlord you’d like to kill?

Gray: “Every Exterminator tends to have a personal list of individuals they’d like to slay. The only ones I have on mine are two individuals. The first is the insect type, Katie Killjoy and the second is a sinner that goes by the name of Gray Man, the despicable monster Albert Fish.” (American serial killer, child rapist and cannibal)

Question 17: Who is your least favorite demon in Hell?Gray: “Well all of them are terrible, quite frankly. However, the one known to Hell as Valentino (porn owner) especially makes my skin crawl.”

Question 18: Who has been your most difficult encounter so far?

Gray: “I would say the holder of that title goes to the one known as Niffty. She has a reputation of being so fast that no Exterminator can catch her.”

Question 19: Why does the Extermination happen?

Gray: “Overpopulation has become an ever-increasing problem in Hell and it continues to worsen with each passing year. The Extermination has been set in place to ensure those who are sent to Hell will have somewhere where they can be integrated into the population.” Question 20: What is your opinion about Charlie’s plan to rehabilitate sinners?Gray: “The topic is quite controversial amongst those in Heaven. Some believe it is genius. Others believe it is pointless. I personally try to keep an open mind. It sounds impossible but stranger things have happened.” “I hope I was able to satisfy your curiosity over me and the behaviors of my fellow Exterminators. Have a blessed day and God be with you.” Gray the Exterminator Q and A by BlueRaven 666 Part 2

Gray: “Greetings, mortals. This is a continuation of your hard-pressed questions about Exterminators and myself as an individual. As we have the luxury of time on our side, today, I have selected 25 questions to answer and we’ll be going into further detail in my responses as much as I can.”

Question 1: How many angels/Exterminators are there in Heaven?

Gray: “Due to my status as an Exterminator, I can only really speak for the total population of Exterminators that reside in Heaven. To put it in perspective, Hell maintains an average population of 15 billion denizens. There is one Exterminator per every 300 of Hell’s denizens, bringing the total population of Exterminators to around 50 million. However, we only make up a small percentage of the total number of angels in Heaven, roughly 5 percent, according to some. Going by that math, the total number of angels residing in Heaven to be over 1 billion. In comparison, the world population on Earth is around 7.8 billion.”

Question 2: How does an Angel become an Exterminator?

Gray: “I should mention that Exterminator is a status that very few in Heaven wish to obtain, but there are three ways one can achieve it. The first and most common way is by being born into the life. True, it may not be something within your control, but it’s a fact. The second way is by appointment by the Powers. This happens for a multitude of reasons, but it’s usually because an angel has committed a sin and is granted an opportunity to choose their fate: be banished into Hell or serve as an Exterminator until the next Extermination day passes. The third and least common way one can become an Exterminator is by volunteering. Volunteers typically require extensive psychological screening by the Powers and Virtues and must meet several requirements before their request is approved (physically fit, flight training, strong will, intelligence test, respect for higher ups, etc.) These screening occur under the belief that an ordinary angel who wants to become an Exterminator could be experiencing sinful thoughts and is seeking an outlet they can unleash these thoughts on. Such individuals are considered to be highly dangerous and can rarely be trusted. (Similar to how one would view a person wanting to be a soldier to kill for sport or for criminal acts)”

Question 3: What is the difference between an angel and an Exterminator?

Gray: “Angels are given several rights and opportunities that Exterminators cannot be trusted with. For example, an angel can be entrusted to carry out the duties of a guardian angel on Earth. Exterminators cannot. Angels may also be chosen to accompany the Archangels (Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, etc.) as they communicate messages between man and God. An Exterminator would never be considered for such a role. We may be entrusted to communicate the status of Hell and its denizens to God but only if the situation has reached crucial status.”

Question 4: Why do Exterminators have an x over their eyes?

Gray: “The X over the right eye of an Exterminator is a symbol of one’s status as a full soldier. Those still in training will not receive this mark until they are ready. Think of it like a brand logo. It’s the mark of the officially of one’s rank as an Exterminator.”

Question 5: Can Exterminators fall in love?

Gray: “Of course they can, though it may be difficult. Most Exterminators experience trouble getting along with one another. This can be for any number of different reasons: conflicting personalities, personal rivalries, or a general lack of interest in the individuals that surround them. This tends to be the most common issue that Exterminators face when it comes to looking for love. Most will even agree to be partners simply for the sake of carrying on a bloodline.”

Question 6: Can angels/Exterminators reproduce?

Gray: “Well, yes. Those that reside in Heaven are granted that privilege.”

Question 7: Is it possible for Heaven to become overpopulated?

Gray: “I would say it’s possible, yes. However, it would be incredibly unlikely. Heaven and Hell differ greatly in size. To put it in perspective, the size difference between the two realms would be like comparing planet Earth to the sun. The sun is so large that 1.3 million Earths can fit inside of it. That’s how big Heaven is compared to Hell. Between the number of angels that eventually fall, the number of Exterminators that are lost in the Extermination each year and those who arrive in Heaven after death, overpopulation is a threat that Heaven need not worry about anytime soon.”

Question 8: What do Exterminators do when it isn’t Extermination day?

Gray: “Much of the time, we simply just sit and wait for the next one to arrive. We do our best not to fight amongst ourselves and spend time with our families if any members have survived and spending time indulging in our own interests and hobbies.”

Question 9: Do Exterminators train for battle?

Gray: “Yes. We Exterminators are trained up for months before every extermination… quite vigorously, as a matter of fact, granted we cannot accurately replicate the climate or terrain of Hell, or the abilities of most demons. But we’ve managed to brush up on the basics, work with new recruits alongside more seasoned Exterminators and practice new attack and defense strategies up until the next Extermination.”

Question 10: What is your favorite weapon?

Gray: “Most of the time, I, along with many other Exterminators, will choose to use a sword or a spear. Spears are lightweight and easy to use, without having to be too close to an opponent. Swords, while they are considerable heavier, are double-edged and work quite efficiently. My favorite weapon to use, however, would be a crossbow. It may not be the most practical weapon by any means, but it is quite efficient at taking down demons from a safe distance.”

Question 11: What do Exterminators think of modern weapons?

Gray: “Most Exterminators share a simple common interest in weapons and artillery. We find devices such as firearms, tanks, aircrafts and nuclear weapons to be utterly fascinating. However, such weapons are viewed as far too devastating to be used during the Extermination. Close range combat serves as a reminder that we are taking lives by our own hands and that fact is emphasized tenfold when we look into a victim’s eyes moments before they draw their final breath. Plus, imagine the amount of work it would take to get a tank from Heaven into Hell and back again.”

Question 12: If you die a non-sinner, do you become an angel?

Gray: “If you die having never committed a single sinful act in your life, I believe you will be ranked higher than an angel. That’s grounds for sainthood, if I’m not mistaken. You may be eligible for placement amongst the first triad in the hierarchy of angels at the very least.”

Question 13: What happens when an angel/human/demon dies?

Gray: “When we die, our consciousness is plunged into what is known as the void. The void is an infinite expanse of nothingness that extends for eternity. In the void, you shall feel no joy, no pain, no sadness, no thirst, and no hunger. There will be no sound, nothing. (It will be the same state as before birth). Imagine the deepest sleep you’ve ever fallen into that will become your reality once you’ve been plunged into the void and it shall continue on until the end of time. Death connects us all.”

Question 14: Are there any Exterminators you can’t stand?

Gray: “Oh goodness, where to start? There Alabasdor, one of the few that willingly volunteered to become an Exterminator. He’s not quite right anymore and enjoys making demons suffer slow, painful, gory deaths during the Extermination. There’s Flax, one Exterminator who really can’t be bothered. He averages around five kills per extermination, while everyone else averages between twenty and forty. The exterminator that takes the crown for being the most unbearable to me, however, is called Silver. She’s like Alabasdor but ten times worse. The only reason she hasn’t been banished into Hell yet is because she holds the highest kill count after every extermination. It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t spend a month gloating over her victories afterwards.”

Question 15: Has an Exterminator ever been saved by a demon before?

Gray: “Not in any case that’s been documented. It would appear that my situation has been the first recorded case of an Exterminator being saved by a demon. That isn’t to say it has never happened before, however, most demons pounce at the first opportunity to take an Exterminator’s head as a trophy.”

Question 16: Could an Exterminator form an alliance with a demon?

Gray: “Impossible. No demon could trust an Exterminator to allow one to assist them with anything and the Exterminators are too bloodthirsty to find it worth their while to help a demon. The truce between Blue Raven and I seems to be unique amongst the usual relationship between demons and Exterminators.”

Question 17: Do you have a favorite demon?

Gray: “I believe the princess of Hell is every angel’s favorite demon.”

Question 18: Have you ever met a docile demon?

Gray: “I believe that Blue Raven is the most docile of his kind along with Princess Charlotte and Tom Trench.”

Question 19: Has an Exterminator ever spared a demon?

Gray: “Most do not. We kill every opportunity we’re given during the Extermination. However, we do tend to spare imps and demons that are expecting and find themselves without shelter, as well as individuals we know for certain will be too much for us to handle. It may not come across as professional, but in our eyes, it's the run-of-the-mill ordinary demons that are a dime a dozen and serve as our main target.”

Question 20: Do you think it’s possible for sinners to be redeemed? Gray: “Possible, yes. However, I believe the question remains as to whether or not there will be enough individuals seeking redemption who will actually be able to achieve it. At least the annual Extermination will no longer be necessary. (That what Charlie hopes). There is also a significant number of demons that have obtained a high social standing in Hell society and have gained a significant amount of territory. As a result they may not be so keen on letting go of that status.”

Question 21: What would happen if God was killed?

Gray: “Such a fate is not possible. Speaking hypothetically, however, the death of the Lord would plunge everything in existence into the void. The entire universe as a whole world would cease to exist.”

Question 22: What do you think of Angel Dust? Gray: “He isn’t the worst sinner that’s out there. However, I would prefer it if he stayed no less than 10 feet away from me at all times.”

Question 23: How does God feel toward Lucifer?

Gray: “Our brother’s name is only mentioned in Heaven as a cautionary tale for other angels. It serves as a reminder that no matter what one’s social standing might be in Heaven, even those closest to the Lord can fall from grace if they choose to repeat his past transgressions. But everyone knows that Lucifer is still his favorite. (He was the light bringer and one of the first angels. Lucifer got banished from Heaven due to his pride and view of Man as inferior to Angels. He wanted to have more freedom, even if it meant going against the rules.).”

Question 24: How would you react if you met an overlord of Hell?

Gray: “Depending on the individual, I presume one of two things would happen. I would either be killed on sight or verbally toyed with until I lost my patience. Given my current state, I cannot afford an encounter with an overlord of Hell. I suppose I would just keep my distance and avoid making any moves against them at this present time.”

Question 25: How old is Blue Raven by demon standards?

Gray: “Blue Raven, I believe this is a question for you to answer.”

Blue Raven: “Alrighty then. How old am I demon’s standards? Well, that’s a loaded question. Some people think it’s how long you’ve lived on Earth with the number of days, weeks, months or years you’ve spent in Hell added onto that. Others just count by the amount of time spent in Hell alone. Just to make it seem less pathetic, I’ll go with the former and say I’m 23 by demon standards, which really isn’t much when you’ve got demons like Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Mimzy, etc. who have been down there decades longer. Back to you, Gray.”

Gray: “That will be all for this session. We sincerely apologize if this session was longer than anticipated (but why apologize?). Stay tuned for more Q and A. Have a blessed day, and God be with you.” Gray the Exterminator Q and A by BlueRaven 666 Part 3 Gray: “Greetings, mortals. Before I begin this installment of questions and answers, there are a few things I would like to say. Firstly, Blue Raven and I wish to thank you for helping this channel, surpassing 6,000 subscribers. We are grateful for your support and look forward to what’s to come as the channel continues to grow. Secondly, we have been made aware of the crisis that is currently taking place on Earth and urge everyone to stay safe out there in the coming weeks. The sooner humanity works to keep each other safe, the sooner this crisis will end and social events and activities will resume. To start this off, a lot of you seem to be curious about my interactions with Blue Raven since I would up down here and became a part of his YouTube channel.”

Question 1: Are you and Blue Raven getting along?

Gray: “I will say that there are quite a few pros and cons about living with a demon. Our sworn truce prevents us from killing each other. However, we do tend to get on each other’s nerves quite a bit. Speaking in expletives is practically a second language down here, whereas, it’s a forbidden one in Heaven. I can easily make my point without the use of swearing or curse words, a concept that Blue Raven seems to struggle with. Have you got anything to add to this?”

Blue Raven: “Oh no, F**ck!”

Gray: “You see?”

Question 2: Do you and Blue Raven do anything to annoy each other?

Gray: “Well, Blue Raven has been trying to coax me into swearing as well. Most demons are nocturnal and Blue Raven is no exception. The brightness of his computer screens tends to keep me up during the night as he works.”

Blue Raven: “Ok, my turn. Gray is an angel and is required to worship God Every. Single. Day. That…uh…that kind of behavior tends to call problems for us demons.”

Question 3: What is life like for an Exterminator in Heaven?

Gray: “Not good. Not terrible, by any means, but most definitely not good. You see, we’re not the pure, innocent souls like most angels in Heaven. We exist solely to kill. As such, our lives solely revolve around training for the next extermination and keeping the demon population in check. We are taught from an early age to be apathetic, which tends to bleed into our daily lives outside of the Extermination. This can lead to us being unkind and uncaring toward our fellow Exterminators, including family and friends.”

Question 4: What is Heaven like, over all?

Gray: “From an Exterminator’s perspective, it is like the way humans view the Earth’s oceans: fascinating, vast, and largely unexplored. You see, Exterminators make up roughly five percent of Heaven’s total population and we aren’t permitted to step outside of our boundaries, unless we’re needed. What we Exterminators know about Heaven is limited to what we know about our own territory and what Exterminators that have been recruited from the outside population have told us. The region of Heaven where Exterminators dwell is very simple. We have houses, neighbors, families, children, pets, gardens. There are public places where we can partake in outdoor activities and social events like sports as the weather is usually comfortable year round. Popular sports in heaven include volleyball, gymnastics, and competitive flight races.”

Question 5: “Do you have any friends?”

Gray: “I do. His name is Cinder. He’s a former angel that was recruited to join the Exterminators for questioning God’s rule. He can be identified by an X that completely takes over the place of his right eye, pearly armor and a sad expression cast over his face rather than the traditional malicious smile most Exterminators bear.”

Blue Raven: “Gray has a bit of a crush on Cinder!”

Question 6: How are Exterminators viewed in Heaven’s society?

Gray: “Our existence is a bit controversial amongst the denizens of Heaven. There are some who see us as a necessary evil that is essential for keeping the population of Hell in check. Others see us as being no better than the demons we slay. Regardless of whom you may ask, however, no angel who isn’t an Exterminator wants to be associated with one.”

Question 7: Do you ever wish you weren’t an Exterminator?

Gray: “Sometimes. There are days where I wonder if being an Exterminator is the only thing life has to offer me. However, being an Exterminator is all I’ve ever known and I’m not sure how I’d be able to handle deviating from that path.” Blue Raven: “You could just stay down here, where nothing is off limits and everyone wants to kill you.”

Question 8: Do you have to earn your wings/halo/weapons?

Gray: “Our wings manifest in early childhood and we learn how to fly in adolescence. Our halos are given to us once we reach adulthood and as shown as a sign that we are ready to step up and join our fellow Exterminators as soldiers. Halos are hand-made and made of glass. All first time soldiers are given the choice to carry a sword or spear. With other weapons such as crossbows, sickles, and scythes, require additional training and must be earned.”

Question 9: Is there a minimum number of demons an Exterminator has to kill per Extermination?

Gray: “Yes and no. It is frowned upon if an Exterminator doesn’t like to kill demons at all. However, those chosen from the outside population of angels are told they only need to achieve one kill per Extermination. The average kill count for an ordinary soldier is between 40 and 50. More experienced Exterminators or those who happen upon a larger number of demons in a particular area can score up to a hundred or more kills. Silver’s highest kill count stands at 392.”

Question 10: What is your highest kill count?

Gray: “My highest kill count stands at 74. Most of the victims were imps.”

Question 11: Would you kill a child/baby that was born in Hell?

Gray: “No. Most Exterminators won’t, especially babies. Even the children at are born in Hell are defenseless up until a certain age. Coming across a child or an infant in the streets during the Extermination is rare and we are more inclined to go after the parent responsible for leaving the child unattended rather than the child themselves.”

Question 12: How long do most Exterminations take?

Gray: “We are usually in Hell for the full 24 hours on Extermination Day. However, sometimes we finish our work early and elect to return to Heaven. Extermination Day feels like the longest day of the year! The shortest recorded Extermination lasted for 16 hours.”

Question 13: What would an Extermination look like in Heaven?

Gray: “If Heaven ever became overpopulated to the point of where an Extermination was being considered, the Exterminators would be the first to be weeded through. Angels would also most likely go through rounds of vigorous testing to see if they are deserving of Heaven. Those who obtained entry simply by accepting God but never acting upon it (those who have never prayed or gone to church), would likely be banished to Hell automatically.”

Question 14: How do Exterminators travel to and from Hell?

Gray: “There is a portal that we go through that is summoned. It looks like an enormous tornado that is just beginning to form! It is disorienting to go through, but it is much quicker than just trying to fly.”

Question 15: Can humanity contact Heaven/Hell?

Gray: “Uh, Blue Raven, do you have an answer to this?”

Blue Raven: “Indeed, I do. We’ve only recently discovered a way to contact the living world trough social media, but it’s a pain in the ass and only Vox and I really know how to do it. You could also do it the old fashioned way, with Ouija board, or some ancient ritual. Proceed with caution if you do decide to use an Ouija board. Go poking around online for a while and you’ll run into something. I’m not responsible for what happens if you successfully summon a demon! We’ve stopped accepting animal sacrifices as payment, so stop killing animals to try and summon us demons. Animal abuse is bad! We don’t take that kind of payment anymore.

”Gray: “Raven, what happens to kids who end up in Hell?”

Blue Raven: “Well, define kid, because I consider anyone who looks younger than 16 a kid. Regardless, 99 percent of the time when you see a child in Hell, chances are they’re a natural born demon, but there are mortal born children that die and end up in Hell and usually they deserve it. You know the brats they are, nothing but mean and disrespectful to everyone that’s around them. Kids that have killed animals intentionally for one reason or another, the ones that engage in sexual or drug activity at a very early age, willingly. Mind you, there are children that wind up in Hell and it’s becoming more common as time passes. There is a line that kids are crossing to where they aren’t beacons of innocence anymore and they aren’t given a free pass when they wind up in Hell. In fact, they are the first ones to be singled out to be tormented by the demons down there and most of them can’t do a damn thing about it. So I’d say if you’re a kid, younger than 18 in human years, get your act together. Save the adult things for when you are an adult because God doesn’t care if you’re a kid, what age you were when you died, if you soul has been corrupted enough to go to Hell, then you’re going to Hell and it’s not going to be a fun experience.”

Question 17: How many sins does it take to send a person to Hell?

Gray: “Blue Raven said that if you committed enough sins, to the point where your soul is no longer pure enough for Heaven, you will be sent to Hell. It could take as much as killing a single person without remorse or committing several sins.”

Question 18: Why are you gray?

Gray: “Because both of my parent’s natural coloration was gray. I just am. Why I was named Gray, I don’t know. It wasn’t my idea.”

Blue Raven 666: “It was my idea to create Gray and Blue Raven as my avatar OC.”

Question 19: Can girls be Exterminators?

Gray: “Of course they can. In fact, I believe women make better Exterminators than men. They tend to be more flexible, agile, and better at quick decision-making than males.”

Question 20: Do humans have an accurate depiction of God?

Gray: “Not in the slightest. I can’t go into much detail under angelic law, but he’s definitely not like how humans see Him. His image has been corrupted by so many human minds that couldn’t handle the information they were presented with that they came up with a much more appealing image, most humans know today. They changed His overall image to better fit their own ideals.” (God is supposed to be a figure who is accepting of everyone’s background, provided they do good things in their lives. Worship is important, but doing good actions for one’s community and the world is even better. Good and bad behavior is learned over time as people grow up. We learn from our parents, peers, teachers, the government, and social institutions, religion being one of them. As we are created in His image, we must do our part in honoring Him and caring for ourselves and humanity the best way we can. He manifests in different faiths: Christianity, Islam, Judaism, etc. Messengers of God, Jesus, Abraham, Mohammed, etc. are different individuals who represent similar cultural ideals. He not only is part of nature and the universe, He is those very things. He is often depicted as a bearded man in the clouds, kind of like Zeus, but he is more than that. He takes forms beyond just human. He is light, His is the life-giving sun, He is the star-filled night that makes us look up in awe and wonder. He can be felt in every act of kindness, every prayer and devotion, in all the moments where people come together to ask for forgiveness, share their stories, or to just share the comforting, if not orderly experiences of going to church every Sunday. Over time, humanity has altered His image to exclude individuals who don’t fit certain standards (ex. loving the same sex, those who do not believe in God, marginalized groups of people etc.) Church and religion has been seeped in the desire for money, power and privilege, instead of its assumed role in bringing communities together who believe in something greater than themselves. “Love thyself, love thy neighbor, love thine enemy”…religions set standards and views of what is right and wrong for people to follow. But has that always been true? They say His word and rules never change, but when society evolves over hundreds of years, one comes to realize that one thing that’s forever constant is change…and as God is constant, change is also a part of Him.)(Feel free to disagree, I’m not religious.)

Gray: “That’ll be all. Blue Raven, I’ll let you take things from here.”Blue Raven: “I am NOT doing the “God be with you” part, just so we’re clear! Thank you guys so much. We know things are bad out there, we know you guys are probably getting restless and want to go out and do things with your buddies, but the best thing you guys can do for yourselves and your loved ones right now is obey any stay at home orders going on at the moment, practice, social distancing, and for f**ks sake, wash your hands and wear your protective face masks when you go out. Use common sense, don’t be dummies! Sooner people start cooperating, the sooner the orders will be lifted and businesses can reopen. Going out to get a haircut isn’t worth you or your loved one’s life, alright. Stay safe out there.”Gray: “But I thought you hated the humans.”Blue Raven: “Shh. They (other demons) don’t need to know. Humans watch my videos, after all.”

Blue Raven 666 Interrogation Q & A by BlueRaven666 Part 4

Blue Raven: “Hello everyone, Blue Raven here, and for this session of questions and answers, we’re switching things up a bit. You see, between the Q and A sessions we’ve done so far and my last upload a lot of info was leaked that Hell has been taking note of effectively pissing off Gray and causing them to quite possibly holding me at spear-point as I’m recording this. So for this session, Gray will be taking a break as I answer some of your hard pressed questions about myself, demons, and life in Hell. I’m gonna be honest, you guys had a lot of questions and so I think that justifies Gray’s feelings a bit. I mean, you all know more about them than you do me at this point, so I’ve picked 24 of your most hard-pressed questions about me, demons, and Hell.”

Gray: “I have answered a total of sixty five questions for you, Raven. I refuse to come back until you’ve done the same.” (Now Blue Raven has to post more videos lol)

Blue Raven: “Oh god dammit.”

Question 1: How long have you been in Hell?

Blue Raven: “Almost five years, I believe. First got here summer of 2015 and I’ve been here ever since.” (Perhaps when he started YouTube?)

Question 2: What kind of demon are you?

Blue Raven: “Okay, you see, I didn’t know the answer to that, myself, until just recently. There’s a lot going on here: the blue wings, the tail, the horns, none of which are immediately identifiable as a single type of animal. As it turns out, I’m a dragon demon. Yes, Hell has dragons and dragon demons. It actually took another dragon demon to point this out before I realized it. (Was it Hatchet from Zoophobia? What if Blue Raven met Fitch and other dragons while Gray has to escape Adina, the evil head of the Exterminators who tortures other demons?)

Question 3: What are your powers/abilities?

Blue Raven: “Nothing that’s worth writing about, really. I can breathe fire, fly, grab things with my tail, and thanks to Vox, I know how to contact people and entertain in Hell and the living world. That’s knowledge that I can’t leak to anyone or Vox said he’d kill me so don’t bother asking.”

Question 4: Which city do you live in?

Blue Raven: “I live in the part of Hell that’s known as the Styx, a.k.a. the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. Vox actually had to have a communication tower built where I live just so I could receive Wi-Fi because I don’t want to live in the city.”

Question 5: How do you die?

Blue Raven: “Okay, let me make you all aware of the first unspoken rule of Hell: do go around asking everybody how they died. Natural-born demons will take personal offence to that (“Are you saying I’m a low scum sinner?”. What I will say about my death was that it was the result of a broken heart. Put the pieces together and I’ll eventually figure it out.”

Question 6: Why are you in Hell?

Blue Raven: “Oh boy. Let me list the reasons; not believing in God, practicing witchcraft and Satanism, reading Tarot, I interrupted a church service once, being LGBTQ+, gluttony, big one right there, envy, greed, sloth, you know, I think I’m beginning to see why I’m a dragon demon.

Question 7: What is daily life like for a demon in Hell?

Blue Raven: “Well, I mean I can’t speak for everyone that’s down here but on a typical day, I wake up, have about three cups of coffee, eat some breakfast, watch some YouTube videos, work on some of my own videos, go to my day job at the local preschool. After work, I chill out at home for a little bit, watch some more YouTube videos, work some more on my own stuff, and then I go to bed and that’s my average daily routine. If you hear of me doing anything more than that, it’s a special occasion.”

Question 8: Does time still apply to Hell?

Blue Raven: “Yeah. You can’t visually tell the difference between day and night, but we have a.m. and p.m. We have clocks and calendars, so time still does apply to Hell, it’s one of the realm’s ongoing tortures, actually.”

Question 9: What is the government system of Hell like?

Blue Raven: “Very simple. If a member of the royal family orders you to do something, yeah, do it. If one of the Gnostic demons orders you to do something and you’re a lower rank than them, you do it or get ready to fight and lose. If an overlord tells you to do something and they’re more powerful than you, you do what they say or square up. Demons and sinners can pretty much do what they want down here, but the moment someone of a higher rank or someone who holds more power gives you an order, you better do it or you could end up being double dead before the next Extermination comes around.”

Question 10: Is there gender/racial segregation in Hell?

Blue Raven: “In a way, yes. You’ve probably heard the saying birds of a feather flock together, right? That aspect tends to be applied to Hell society. Demons usually socialize with those of the same species, or those that are down here for the same sins. One type that nobody associates with down here are the cho-mos (child molesters) and the perverts. It gets kind of complicated when it comes to gender, though. You see, I’d say around 90% of us don’t really know how to keep it in our pants for those who were born human. That fact doesn’t really matter because we’re infertile, but natural born demons are able to reproduce, so unless they’re looking to create a boom in the population, the males and the females tend to be kept separate.”

Question 11: Where do new denizens spawn in Hell?

Blue Raven: “Literally anywhere. There’s no one single place that sinners manifest after they die. We don’t fall through arriving in Hell. It’s almost like waking up, only in a totally different from and someplace you’ve never been before.”

Question 12: Do people in Hell get sick?

Blue Raven: “Yes, we do. You can thank pestilence for every pandemic or illness to ever come into existence on Earth, but we do get sick down here in Hell to rot. Horn rot, tail rot, hoof rot, a whole lot of rot. But tapeworms are coming down here too, and you can’t trust the doctors down here because most of them are either witch doctors, plague doctors or quacks. So if you do get sick down here, you’re kind of screwed.”

Question 13: How do demons get their forms?

Blue Raven: “It depends on a wide variety of factors. Your personality, your sins, how people viewed you in life, how you died and so on. We continue to change and evolve as we continue to exist in Hell so forms can change over time. (I mean, look at this guy, he’s a fuckin’ gun.)”

Question 14: What happens if you get injured in Hell?

Blue Raven: “Unless it’s an angel’s weapon, or your form gets completely destroyed beyond repair, nothing. Bruises and scratches heal pretty quickly. Broken bones take only a couple days to heal up. Bullet and stab wounds are nothing. The bitch of the situation comes in when it’s an angel’s weapon. Then the injury takes eight times longer to heal, and it if’s fatal, it’s fatal.”

Question 15: Would you ever sign a contract/make a deal with an overlord?

Blue Raven: “I kind of already have with Vox. I wanted some decent technology to start making videos online. I got a hell phone and now I work for him. Don’t make deals with demons, kids.”

Question 16: What is your relationship with Vox?

Blue Raven: “It’s just an employer-employee sort of dynamic, nothing more.”

New message from: Vox: Oh so you’re a liar now too, eh?

Blue Raven: “Stop tapping into my microphone you creep.”

Question 17: What would happen if someone were to break a deal with a demon?

Blue Raven: “Oh, you don’t want to do that, my friend. Your soul will belong to the demon for all eternity either way, unless that demon gets killed. Humans have been killed for trying to break off their deals if not them, than their friends, family, and even pets. Again, don’t make deals unless you intend to hold up your end of the bargain.”

Question 18: How does a demon become an overlord?

Blue Raven: “Do I look like a demon that has achieved overlord status? I don’t know. I know Alastor defeated a bunch of overlords that used to be in power, so I guess that’s one way to go about it.” (Demons who have committed a bunch of horrible sins (both in Hell and on Earth) and had an infamous status on Earth are more likely to become overlords…especially those either born to higher class families on Earth or those in Hell who have tapped into their powers and evolved. In Hell, the “Survival of the Fittest,” “Might Makes Right” applies very often.)

Question 19: Who’s the oldest demon in Hell?

Blue Raven: “I’m pretty sure it’s Lucifer, along with the other fallen angels that were cast out along with him. (Beezelbub, Leviathan, Azael, etc.)

Question 20: Is Lucifer a fallen angel?

Blue Raven: “Yes.”

Question 21: Why are you so nice for a demon?

Blue Raven: “I don’t know. I think I might be trying to compensate for something. Who knows?”

Question 22: Are you tired of being in Hell?

Blue Raven: “If I’m being honest with myself, no. I get tired of certain people, yes, but in my own opinion, Hell isn’t that bad, at least where I’m at. I’m a dragon demon, so I’d say I’ve adjusted to Hell’s climate pretty well I think. If it’s miserable down here, yeah well that’s because you’re from Heaven where everything is perfect, (angry) including the temperature.”

Question 23: Do you think Charlie’s plan could work?

Blue Raven: “I mean, I think it could be in theory, anything’s possible, right? However, there are a lot of sinners that are leading good lives down here that they really don’t want to give up. So I think it’s all a matter of if a sinner wants to be rehabilitated and go to Heaven. You can’t exactly help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves.”

Blue Raven: “Okay, that’s 23 questions answered. Whatever, this was fin. Now let’s hope I don’t get into any major trouble for it.”

Greetings, mortals of Earth. I am an angel who was born in Heaven long ago. You’ve probably heard of us: we are messengers of God who sometimes visit Earth to send messages or bless individuals. We are often portrayed as holistic beings with golden halos, white feathery wings, who play harps and frolic around in the ever-sunny sky. Well, Heaven has those kinds of angels, but there are many different types. Angels are divided into groups called choirs. From the highest rank to the lowest are: Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels and Angels. They all serve a variety of roles, from guarding God’s throne, to maintaining cosmic order, to inspiring harmony in the human and spirit world. Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, and Uriel, are some of the most well-known, important Archangels.

There are also Angels of Death who are in charge of punishing sinners, often using flaming swords and other methods. There are some who aren’t as destructive and bloodthirsty, as, say, Samael. In fact, one angel, Azrael, is a benevolent being said to guide the souls of the deceased after death. Puriel judges and examines each soul after death. But still, there are others who teach sinners and the unfaithful harsh lessons, even beyond the grave. Sorry, getting a little off-topic here. Where do I come in and who am I?”Others call me Gray, and I am an asexual, gender neutral black-winged angel and Exterminator.

I know what you’re thinking, “A dark murderous angel without a gender or sexuality? That can’t be true.”

Alas, it is. Just like mortals, angels can identify as male, female, transgender, and anywhere in between. However, we are strongly encouraged (or perhaps even ordered) to push aside feelings of passion, lust, and other messy emotions. After all, we are constantly on duty, and all our destinies lead to one true purpose: unification with God. Or the universe, or the cosmos, however you’d like to phrase the inevitable force that connects us.

You see, not all of us are pacifists, born or made. I was born in a section of Heaven that is not found in your Bibles or textbooks. This area is exclusively for other Exterminators.

What is our purpose, you ask? Exterminators are responsible for slaughtering Hell’s denizens once every year to prevent overpopulation. The rules are simple: kill swiftly, show no mercy to anyone, and stay close to your fellow angels during the 24 hour time shift. Samael is our leader, and as you can imagine, he is quite ruthless and stern.

In terms of status, I am just a lowly soldier in the Exterminator rank. I can be recognized by my blue tipped right horn, x over my right eye, my blue eyes and mouth. Like the other Exterminators, I have black feathery wings, horns, talons, and I carry a unique weapon. To add to my lower rank, the other angels tend to look down on us due to our bloodthirsty nature. We have a drive to fight and move around, while the other angels are content to sit around studying, praying, singing, or dancing peacefully. It is not what you would call racism; but more like the reaction one gets when your coworkers find out you work at a cemetery or morgue.

Yes, the work is dangerous, depressing and not for the faint of heart. But it must be performed efficiently by some people. Not only must we kill demons during the annual purge, but we also must be careful not to get killed by powerful overlords residing down there. Laying down our lives is a part of war, whether it’s serving God or protecting your home country and citizens.

I was born into a family of seasoned Exterminators, so I had no choice in the grand scheme of things. Deciding to pursue any other occupation would dishonor my family and my community. The punishment would be immediate banishment to Hell…basically a death sentence. So, I mustered up my courage and followed in my family’s footsteps (or wing-flaps).

During one of the annual Exterminations, an unfortunate event occurred. After being knocked unconscious by an attacking demon, my brethren assumed I was dead. They left me behind, flying into the portal and out of sight. By the time I came to my senses, the purge was over and the portal had closed. Flying back to Heaven would be impossible…the distance was far too vast to cover. I stayed hidden in the shadows and forged for food. Then, this demon showed up and decided to take me in. His name was Blue Raven 666, a tall humanoid with blonde hair, blue eyes, white horns and a blue shirt with 666 on it. He has an ability to look into events and come up with theories to try and explain why things are the way they are. He seems to have some knowledge about Niffty, Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, and several other characters. Angel has complex relationships with his father Henroin, Aranea his white spider mother, and his siblings Aracknis and Molly. Strangely enough, Molly isn’t a demon, yet she can enter Hell freely. But his ideas are just unconfirmed theories, albeit plausible ones. For instance, Vaggie may have been a fallen angel due to her use of a harpoon spear, an x over her eye and her willingness to kill/threaten powerful, suspicious demons.

Ah, here I go again, babbling on and on. You’re probably not interested in such abstract perspectives, but it’s one of the topics to keep me entertained before I go back to Heaven.

Why Blue Raven took me in, I’ll never know. Perhaps he took pity on me after seeing me in a weakened state on the brink of starvation. Maybe he was trying to keep an open mind, like me. Surely not all angels were good and not all demons were bad. It was a temporary truce between an angel and a demon, one that was fragile and unknown to anyone else. While we got acquainted, Blue Raven told me about the demon princess Charlie. She had set up a hotel for the purpose of redeeming sinners and sending them to Heaven. Given how many evil sinners and demons were down here, I figured that it was nearly impossible to achieve such a goal.

Then again, stranger things have happened. Even our fallen brother, Lucifer isn’t all bad. Sure he may be prideful, but he does care for his wife and daughter very much. He was banished from Heaven due to God creating mankind and favoring them over the angels. The rules in Heaven are strict, so it’s no surprise that someone like him would rebel. I’m just counting myself lucky that I’m still alive. If it hadn’t been for my new demon acquaintance, I would’ve surely perished out there. (And no, I’m not a fallen angel; I still hold my status as an Exterminator.) Hopefully, once I return to Heaven, things will return to normal and I can resume my duties.

I’ll be here to answer any questions you may have, and Blue Raven 666 will be happy to help. Be sure to go check out his channel and videos. If you’re a Hazbin Hotel fan who likes to dive deep into theories and possibilities, then his channel is for you. Please take care of yourselves and those around you. I heard there’s a deadly virus known as coronavirus-19 going around on Earth and I want to make sure you mortals stay safe. Heaven’s getting more crowded each day, but it can be assured that everyone’s doing fine up here. Thank you for your time, and as we say in Heaven: “Have a blessed day and God be with you.”

Oh, you’re still here? Would you like to hear more about me? I’d love to talk more about Heaven and who I am. Very well, then. Let us begin…

#hazbin hotel theory #Youtubers #OCs #blueraven666

3 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 62 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths. RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

Tags - @skulliebythesea @asimovethroughthisworld @blackcherry26-blog @we-shadowhunter2901

Loki watched as Ella stretched her back. “When do we leave?” She turned to face him as she spoke.

“We?” “You nearly died there in the heat of their Autumn, in their Summer, you all will suffer. It is not like there is much of an argument for me staying.”

“Ella, you are too…” She glared at him. “No.”

“I know what I can take and I assure you, I can take this.”

“But…” “Do you think I would risk him?”

“Never,” Loki answered immediately. He knew she loved the child growing in her. He knew she would die before risking their son.

“Then believe me when I say, I can take this and I am coming. So, when do we leave?”

Seeing that nothing would make her change her mind, Loki sighed in resignation. “The end of the week.”

“I better begin preparing, so.”

Loki watched her go to do so, noting how she moved with Gungnir in her grasp. It seemed entirely natural to her.

“She’s coming?” Býleistr stared at Ella who was preparing something closeby. “Are you insane?” “Firstly, my mate is not named ‘She’, secondly, if Ella chooses to come, none can stop her, not even me.” Loki walked past his brother as he spoke.

“Alma is remaining. If she were my mate…”

“‘She’ as you insist on calling her, is not your mate though, is she? She is mine and I will not dictate to her such things. I voiced my concerns as to her travelling so far into pregnancy but she is healthy and feels there is no risk to the child, thus she has decided to come along. Not that it is any concern to any other than herself and indeed myself. Also, as she so validly pointed out, we would be at risk of melting in Alfheim at this stage of their year. The heat and humidity eclipse that of what we suffered in the war. Her ability with seidr alone would assist us, with Gungnir…”

“Does it not concern you that she just walks around with a weapon that could kill us all?” Býleistr eyed Gungnir warily.

“Why would I? You need to be a competent seidr wielder to even hold it, the only seidr wielder on this whole realm is my mate who is very much only interested in helping our realm,” Loki dismissed. “She would rather slit her own throat than allow herself to be used to hurt us.”

“What if it was her child or us, do you think she would be willing to sacrifice it for our realm?” Loki glared at his brother. “How dare you even suggest such a horrific situation. If I were to be so heartless of Alma you would want to impale me were I to breathe such words.” “I am just worried about our realm, Loki. Just like you. She is not Jotnar, she is in possession of a weapon that our father specifically stated can wipe out our people in an afternoon if she so chose to.” “Yes, we were all told of that blasted thing but Ella would never use it against us so your worries are unfounded and insulting to my mate. She is more selfless than you could ever hope to be,” Loki snarled before walking off.

“Why is he so…?” Býleistr looked to Helbindi confused.

“Pissy? Gee, I wonder, maybe, and is just a wild guess, but maybe our brother does not like you being so accusatory and demeaning to his mate and the dam of his offspring?” Helbindi commented sarcastically. “Why are you always so apprehensive about Ella, she has never deserved your reactions to her?”

“She is Odin Allfather’s daughter, why am I the only one of us that sees that this is a concern? What if that child is more Aesir than Jotnar in demeanour and we end up with an Odin on our throne?” “Well, this child is more Vanir than anything else but he will be raised here, with his sire as king and as a Jotnar. According to Loki, he is Jotnar in appearance too.” “Does that not seem odd to you?” Býleistr demanded. “To be able to say such before it is even born, how do we know she is not feeding some lie to him? This idea that it is male, or looks like us? There is no way to know these things.” “The Allfather was able to tell Ella was female before she was born and made a deal with Father with regards to her?” Helbindi pointed out.

“I would put nothing past the Allfather. Even if it...actually, that would explain a lot.” Helbindi could not fit the pieces together of what his brother was saying to see things as his brother did. “What would?”

“Why Loki’s mate is different to how the female gender is supposed to be in Asgard. The Allfather altered how she was meant to be from male to female.”

Helbindi stared at his brother in shock, unable to say anything to counter the entirely ridiculous words he was hearing. “I honestly do not know what to say to that, I really don’t. Have you any idea how insane you sound?” He shook his head. “That is insulting, both to Ella and to all female Aesir. We have little knowledge of them.” “They do not place much value in them,” Býleistr pointed out.

“Most realms don’t but then again, a daughter of the Allfather could only ever be a formidable being.” Helbindi looked around and saw his mate speaking with Ella nearby. “I am not speaking of this with you any further. It is insulting to your brother, his mate and your future king also.” He stated as he left.

Býleistr did not know what to think as Helibindi walked off. He looked over at his brother as he spoke with Greta and Ella, who smiled joyfully with them, teasing Helbindi as he publicly showed affection for his mate. When it came to Ella, he always felt uncertain. He was not overly old when the war took place but one thing that remained with him was the instantaneous difference the removal of the Casket caused. He remembered the crops dying, the brightness of the realm fading all too quickly. He would never forget that. The image of the Aesir guard holding their Casket, their life source, in his hands as they marched from the realm imprinted in his mind since then. The Allfather, the supposed “Protector of the Realms” left theirs to rot, that filthy staff in his hand, ensuring none could stop him. The light beaming on the gold of Gungnir brought his attention to the staff once more. He knew Ella was not the Allfather but she was his daughter, there was no way in which she did not inherit some of her sire’s traits. When she glanced at him, he felt himself tense. Her eyes reminded him of the Allfather, the same colour, the same air, it made him feel uncomfortable.

“‘Bind, what is bothering Býleistr?” Greta asked curiously, noting Býleistr’s peculiar look.

“Nothing. He’s just being ‘Leist,” Helbindi stated. “Why don’t we get ready to go?” He suggested, turning to face his older brother for a moment, giving him a warning glare before urging his mate away. “Ella?” Ella eyed Býleistr for a moment longer, noting the manner in which he was looking at her as she turned to prepare to leave.

When Loki arrived, flanked by Arden and a few others, he immediately sought Ella, using the shining gold staff to assist in seeking her out. When she saw her mate, she smiled brightly at him but something seemed slightly amiss in her eyes as she did so, “Are you alright?” Loki asked worriedly.

“Fine,” She smiled again, showing once more something was slightly amiss. “Are we ready?” “When you are.” Loki stood back slightly. Still worried as to what was bothering her but knowing that there was little chance of her telling him with how she was acting. He had thought that they would be forced to use the Bifrost to travel between realms but Ella had scoffed at such an idea and merely told her mate that she would deal with it. He worried slightly as to what that meant but seeing her standing with Gungnir in her hand and with a simple tap of it on the ground, a gold circle began to form in front of them, becoming bigger and clearer until the centre showed the green forests of Alfheim. On seeing such, Ella stepped forward through the portal, Loki following a mere half-step behind her before the rest of the Jotnar joined them.

Loki knew that they should be suffering the humidity that was clear to see around them but he felt as though he was still on Jotunheim. He looked to his side to see his mate smiling knowingly at him. “Thank you. I...What is wrong with Býleistr?” He looked over at his brother worriedly. “I do not think he wants me to use Gungnir on him, so I did not. That is what I gathered at least.” She walked away boredly.

Loki walked over to Býleistr, who was gasping for air. “Your mocking of my ability to sweat is coming back to haunt you, I see?” “I…”

“What did you say of my mate to say she is not assisting you now through this heat and humidity?”

Helibindi and Greta looked at Býleistr curiously. “Just say it, ‘Leist, or I will.” Helbindi urged.

“I…” “He accused the Allfather of altering my gender whilst in my mother’s womb to forge a deal between our realms and that is why I am so masculine in manner, nothing, of course, to do with some women not being shrinking violets.”

Loki was used to hearing Ella converse with him with the use of her seidr. Looking at his brother, he scoffed. “Sounds like you deserved it.”

“How…?”

“Did she tell me? My mate is incredibly talented at everything she does but especially with regards to her seidr. Perhaps next time you are speaking ill of her, you do not do so while glaring at her, it gives away some ill-intent.” He smirked. “Ella?” A moment later, and with a shimmer of gold encircling him, Býleistr sighed in relief as he once more.

Loki stood in close over his brother, his lips to Býleistr’s ear. “Let this be a warning to you, Brother.” His voice was merely a growl as he spoke. “If you insult my mate again, I will not be so quick to convince her to bestow any assistance or kindness she may consider to put upon you. She, I can assure you, is entirely female but as you are not in possession of the sense to see that masculinity does not automatically equate to leadership and strength, then you open your mouth to spew these stupid statements.” He rose to full height again. “Stop acting as though you’re mortally wounded and stand straight. You are representing Jotunheim, remember.”

Býleistr looked his brother in the eye for a moment before giving a submissive nod. “Of course.” Loki turned to walk away. “And I apologise.”

“It is not me you owe it to,” Loki pointed out.

Býleistr looked over at Ella. He rarely if ever interacted with her. He felt there was little reason to. They did not share interests and though she spoke often with Alma, especially with regards to carrying young, he felt they had little to discuss in any manner. But knowing that she knew his words about her, he felt even more awkward. With the horrific humidty and heat no longer bothering him, he was forced to admit her abilities, when used to assist them, were incredibly useful. He looked at Angrboða, who had come with him to see her reaction to the situation.

She merely said nothing and remained neutral faced. She had witnessed Ella’s abilities enough times to know that mocking them was foolish. She also knew the different dirty and backhanded comments said about the Aesir princess but even she did not say such things of her at the very beginning when she loathed her entirely. She did not like Ella but she could see that Ella never held anything against her for everything with Loki which shocked her at the time but she could see it was true. She felt bitter at being the only mate not currently pregnant but as Alma and Býleistr stated, two mates rarely were pregnant at the same time and when her time would come, Alma would assist her also. Since Angrboða was raised by her family of two female mates, she knew the integral role she would play for their family but it did still hurt slightly to see the Aesir mate of her former flame rotund with his child, then seeing others carrying too but she did not allow it to bother her as much as such would have not too long ago. With regards to the current situation, she knew an apology was warranted but she was less than rushing over to force her mate to issue it, as valid as such was.

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #chapter 62 #Pride and Prejudice #Wolfpawn

39 notes · View notes