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slowd1ving · 1 month

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Hello can u write a Dokja x Medusa!male!reader please

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR GORGON ゜゜・KIM DOKJA

'You listening, Dokja? Maybe if you followed the guides for dealing with intelligent species like this one, you wouldn't be in such a stupid mess.' yall think aegis can be used as a different sort of barrier?!?! sorry anon this is less mythology centric than i planned icl art by @ 1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ (blackbox) on x! pairing: kim dokja + male reader warnings: canon typical danger, mentions of self-sacrifice wc: 2.9k

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

There exist several unspoken rules when interacting with the particularly volatile species integrated onto Planetary System 8612. Most ‘monsters’ are unable to effectively communicate with the main intelligent species in the domes, thus are doomed for imminent slaughter. However, exceptions like the catalyst behind these reports must be treated with particular regard.

Guidelines will serve you well in the coming days, reader. If you’ve accessed these reports, it probably means the days are bleak and you’ve encountered one of these species. One thing is for certain; if you are reading this, you will survive your encounter with a gorgon.

< Observation log, section 1 > (Relative Earth time 21/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPT OF RECORDING

‘Rule number one: if possible, do not engage with a gorgon. Though, considering your perusal of these records, it seems this was not successful on your end. Better luck next time!’

‘Sooyoung-ah, don’t be ru—’

Avoidance was always a good policy when it came to the apocalypse. It saved time, toil, and lives—much like a vaccine helped one bypass a virus. But one couldn’t rely on it entirely; neither vaccine nor evasion was infallible after all.

‘If they were, these records would not need to exist.’

And for humans, their biggest hamartia was their ignorance. Nerve cells could only do so much to detect dangerous stimuli and trigger a reflex for flight. If the hazard was less obvious, much more innocuous, then the poor human would only be wading into quicksand if they weren’t smart enough. Right before getting devoured.

‘Of course that squid was the blind one who got us into this mess.’

Just like these unspoken rules, it was de facto that Kim Dokja was unlucky. Unfortunate. Ill-destined. However you chose to put it, the man was born under a cursed star, which meant that the stranger sitting across from him in the park was naturally part of his jinx as well.

“What are you staring at?” Unlike the squid wearing his stupidly pristine coat, the man sitting on the bench facing him appeared to be a student: civilian wear and a lanyard still around your neck, like you’d frozen in time these past few months. Glasses rested on your nose, which you pushed up each time they slipped—even if they moved only minutely.

Perhaps you were nervous, but the caustic indifference in your tone suggested it was an unlikely possibility.

“Ah, sorry. I have a habit of looking at interesting people,” he laughed your question off, but the lack of information on you, coupled with the fact he didn’t recognise who you were, gave him the answer he needed. You weren’t a part of the original novel. “Uh, it’s a nice park, isn’t it? Lovely statues.”

You glanced at the reader, unimpressed. Just like that handsome bastard, there was that same impassive scowl plastered on your face. But as soon as he’d mentioned the sculptures scattered around this surprisingly lush pocket of Seoul, your face had softened somewhat.

“Art major?” he probed, for there was something about your gaze that drew words from his mouth. Or perhaps it was just how surreal this scene was: someone enjoying the park like anyone before the paid service began, just some guy taking a breather from classes with a thick, bound book beside him.

A ballpoint pen, rather than a sword or any other weapon. Blue ink, instead of bloody atrament.

You were a part of this world, yet detached from it all.

“No, chemistry,” you said. Deadpan, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m specialising in geochemistry. Rocks, soil, minerals. Humans do so underappreciate what goes on beneath their feet.”

Specialising. Present tense. Not specialised.

Humans: like you were utterly detached from anyone and everyone.

His breath caught in his throat.

The urging of constellations reminded him of just the situation he was in—about to run out of time in this sub-scenario, where hordes of monsters would soon swarm. Right in this very park.

“Listen, you’ll need to get out of here soon—there’s going to be swarms of insect-like creatures here in, uh, five minutes give or take. You’ll be in danger if you can’t fight,” he swallowed. A look of disdain flickered in your eyes, and his head throbbed with how much your expressions resembled that sunfish bastard’s. You’re the idiot, your brows indicated, while the set of your mouth held only one question: who said I couldn’t fight? In the same strand of thinking, the sudden curdle of your shoulders—hunched, guarded—seemed to gesture and who are you to tell me that?

‘If only you knew back then.’

In short, you could fight. You could fight, and you were absolutely terrifying to watch.

“Aegis,” you whispered, and the statues seemed to continue in susurration with you as the air warped in on itself. Dokja was thrown back by the shockwave as the space rippled—all in time for the main guests of the sub-scenario to arrive.

Insect mutations.

They crashed right into the distortions. A barrier. You’d set up an impenetrable defence in less time it took for him to draw breath, only for him to keel over behind you instead. Wow. Okay. He could still work with that.

“What are you—”

“Silence.” It would’ve stung less if you just told him to shut up instead, but from the very get-go you were never particularly nice. Kind? Somewhat, in the sense you’d viewed him as some useless, bumbling fool that would be better off behind the translucent shield you’d conjured. But nice? No, from the very beginning, you were never nice.

‘Deserved.’

That was fine. Bearable. Still in the realms of believability.

For Kim Dokja, the shock came after watching your hand raise to your face to slip your glasses off. From the back, he could no longer see the stern expression you no doubt wore. But he wasn’t focused on your face, but rather the warmth of the day instantly seeping from the molecules.

Time itself froze, and the insects did too.

No one breathed, and not a singular sound rang out—save something hissing. A tire, perhaps, but nobody was fool enough to simply drive cars during the apocalypse.

Then came the stirring of your clothes. It was a breeze only you felt, rippling and undulating until your hair moved too. Except it wasn’t the wind that hissed, nor was it the wind that wafted the coils. No, they twisted into thicker, scaly locks—snake-like, except these were snakes suddenly attached to your head. It was no longer a simile, nor was it a metaphor.

You had fucking snakes in your hair.

His breathing was shallow; in the sudden frigid climate, those puffs crystallised and condensed in small white clouds.

And what of those insects?

His eyes flicked back to the ground shakily, to where the arthropods lay crumbling. Statues, like the ones he’d complimented brief minutes ago. Pearlescent marble—no, stone. Your glasses were still grasped tight in your hand, and he knew if you turned to meet his wide-eyed stare he’d be next. But, alas—

“Who… are you?”

‘And this is how Kim Dokja put his foot in his mouth and demonstrated his exceptionally poor luck.’

< Observation log, section 2 > (Relative Earth time 24/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPT OF RECORDING

‘Rule number two: do not stare into the eyes of a gorgon. Don’t even look, except for when there are protective measures in place. Case one: a blindfold. Case two: glasses, which he literally wears every minute of the day save for when he’s sleeping. Dokja, do not sneak up on the man when he’s sleeping.’

‘Dokja, you suck.’

It wasn’t often you let down your guard, with writhing, clawing humans nonetheless. Pointing fingers to find the monsters under their beds and threatening their cities—when in fact it was their bellicose faults that doomed them. A self-made end, a fitting conclusion for the snake that bites its own tail. If you had ever been human once, these people shared more blood with the beasts than they thought.

Point was: you didn’t particularly care for those who appeared to be like you. Bodies, soft and squishy from a life coddled in cities; smiles duplicitous and more monstrous than any snarl; and their thoughts, often more heinous than any demon. And despite their sins, they’d meander in life wrapped in the bliss of self-ignorance. Dead in their varying morals like shrouds of far-too different cloths.

In this, no human was the same. This was the philosophy that alienated yourself from your sisters.

This was also the philosophy that landed you in a warm, damp place—completely dark with something poking at your cheeks. Correction—even through the thin membrane and slightly thicker skin that covered your eyes, there appeared to be a dim redness seeping into the edges of blackness. It seemed your blood vessels were alit by some foolish beastling. Almost like the golden chariot was prancing afore your eyes, except only Aeos of the Dawn was trotting along your lash line with a proud toss of his shrunken head.

Your fingers twitched inside your sleeping bag, but you forced a deep breath in before you could hear any hissing.

Actually, you knew exactly who was prodding at your cheek with a frigid index finger; the faint brush of his scent gave him away almost instantaneously.

“Kim Dokja. Are you an idiot?” you ground out, eyes still tightly shut to avoid turning this fool to stone. “I’ve already agreed to travelling with your circus, so I’d prefer you refrain from getting petrified.”

“You really do sound like him when you’re irritated,” he let out with a suppressed snort.

“Aegis,” you whispered, and the impertinent hand ceased its movements.

The barrier was not, in fact, activated.

“Gave me a bit of a fright there,” he swallowed. “I just wanted to say, it’s fine if you open your eyes.”

“No,” you deadpanned. Though you couldn’t see the expression, you could feel your facial muscles twitch into an impassive wall. “Don’t involve me with your stupid plans to kill yourself off.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he corrected himself. Were all humans like this when you lived as one? “It just won’t work on me. Me alone, which is why I locked the door so no one could come in.”

“Why?” He was a fool like the rest of them—risking peril for a glimpse of cursed eyes. Like all of man, his hubris rested heavy on his shoulders.

“I just want to see your smug face without any glasses.”

“You’re looking at it presently,” you argued. Though your ire was evident with your furrowed brows, he didn’t relent. Where was that puny man who’d trembled behind you at the sight of insects? More importantly, how had he changed so quickly?

“With your eyes open,” he clarified. He was more insane than anyone you’d ever met.

“Does it really make a difference?” you stalled. “How can you be sure you won’t suffer the effects as every other human and beast does?”

“You care about me that much?”

It was a quiet question. A tentative venture into teasing, yet strangely vulnerable.

“You worried?” he echoed. It was a weak aegis of his own, already prepared to accept your scoff and firm no.

“Fool.” Both the skin eyelids and the thin membrane unsheathed haunting irises. You already knew what you’d see in them—a milky sort of quality to their natural colouring, even without the extra membrane. Slit pupils dilated minutely at the sight of him, and his breath caught in his throat as you gazed upwards, unblinking.

Fool. The word echoed in his mind, an answer to his question but not at the same time.

I’m not worried.

Peering, your claws gently grazed his face: almost a kiss, if a kiss left a slight sting behind.

“I’m always worried about you, Kim Dokja,” you murmured, and it was perhaps then that his heartbeat grew erratic. Staring into those pretty eyes of yours with your thumb tenderly swiping across his flushed cheekbones, it was no wonder he could taste his very pulse. “Remember our first meeting?”

“How could I forget?”

A back facing his hunched form, more dependable than the shield spreading and curling beneath your mighty palms. Snakes coiling down your back, but there was nothing scary about how they swayed like ribbons in the sunset. And finally those eyes, directly protecting him from the swarms of insects.

No, perhaps it was then when the thrum of the organ grew somewhat more rapid.

‘Glad you realised.’

< Observation log, section 3 > (Relative Earth time 03/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPTION OF RECORDING

‘Rule number three: do not feed the snakes. Do not feed the snakes, Dokja. DO NOT FEED THE GODDAMN SNAKES.’

“Is Kim Dokja a masochist?”

The question, like most questions, came out of the blue. Such an innocuous, casual tone veiled your usual clipped syllables that Han Sooyoung found herself seriously internalising your words, before—

“What— koff— huh?” she spluttered against the sudden taste of her lemon candy, expression turning troubled, then incredulous.

“Does he take pleasure in torturing himself?” you clarified, as though it were a matter of comprehension rather than tact.

‘I knew what a masochist was! Why would he ask that?’

“If it’s Dokja, probably,” she coughed finally. Honestly, she’d pondered this very question herself—staring deadpan at the numerous deaths he’d experienced by his own plans. “Uh, just so we’re clear, why do you ask?”

“Is it normal to try to feed my snakes?” Definitely not.

“That… idiot did what?” she stared at the resident gorgon with quite the perplexed expression, but soon regained her composure. “No, not particularly. Are they… venomous?”

“Yes. Very much so. Please tell him to quit.”

Yet, despite all the half-hearted chidings of you and Sooyoung alike, your little snakes were beginning to grow fat and affectionate towards the man. You could feel something fundamental begin to shift, and it wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling.

< Observation log, section 4 > (Relative Earth time 14/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPTION OF RECORDING

‘Rule number four: gorgon venom should not be ingested. If you are Kim Dokja, this applies perhaps most poignantly to you. You may be immune to its effects for whatever reason, but the venom is a nightmare to get out of clothing. Thanks.’

“An experiment?”

Kim Dokja’s face didn’t change from his usual, vaguely blurred visage; but it wasn’t like snakes had particularly good eyesight regardless. “Yes. Would you be up for it?”

You’d agreed on a whim. Why the experiment was to take place in a closed room, you didn’t particularly know. Maybe humans encountering an apocalypse had special customs to adhere to. “I am familiar with experimental protocol in laboratories and practicals.”

“Would you like to help me upgrade my poison-immunity skill?”

You’d initially refused outright—struck dumb at how recklessly he treated his life. Every time you thought he was a fool, he proved himself even more foolish—a crazed endeavour if you ever saw it.

Gorgon poison. Released in more diluted doses from the snakes on you, concentrated particularly in the bone-white fangs in your mouth. Like a vampire, Yoo Sangah had excitedly noted: much too excitedly for your liking.

Bite me, he asked you.

A pale wrist was held out cautiously in front of him. The air was no longer mere air, but an ancient altar dedicated to this sacrifice. Thus, you were the priest for this rite once more, but this time the ram carried the bronze knife itself.

He’s an idiot, you seethed, yet you were too.

For you suggested a less painful way of transferring venom, but he agreed. For you gently clasped his chin with razor sharp talons skimming the dermis of his throat, but he melted pliantly in your hands. For you leaned in with softened eyes, but his own simply fluttered shut in anticipation.

You surged, pressing him against the cold cement of the wall. Air was robbed from his lungs as he gasped, but rather than pulling back his warm, human hands merely wrapped around your nape to meld your body against his.

Why did his hands shake so? Was this not just an experimental procedure dedicated to strengthening a human?

Despite your analytical mind, your eyes closed too—both membrane and skin—and you savoured the lingering taste of the meaty dinner he’d eaten, and the underlying flavour of him. Hot blood pumped beneath his fragile oral mucosa; your greedy, long tongue prodded his own to find just where his pulse thrummed the strongest.

Ah, fuck, he thought dumbly; sloppily making out with you in a forgotten room was not how he’d envisioned this night, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

Even as he winced with sharp pain when your fangs cut his lips, he couldn’t pull back—objective achieved but long forgotten. Those pesky, wandering hands of his clung onto your body when his head canted: deepening the kiss rather than wrapping up his poison exposure.

Iron tainted his mouth. Dripping past the seams of desperate lips was the crimson mixture of blood and venom, dripping onto his sweater and corroding the very threads—yet Kim Dokja both did not notice and did not particularly care.

But all good things came to an end. The two of you were met with an extremely exasperated Han Sooyoung at the door as she gave you a look, one that implied I expected better from you. For Dokja, the reserved expression was I expected this, to be honest.

‘PDA is not appreciated during the apocalypse. Take that shit elsewhere.’

‘Thus, these reports can be summarily concluded in two points of advice:

1. Unless you are Kim Dokja, do not attempt any of these activities with a gorgon.

2. Simply don’t do what Kim Dokja does.’

#slowd1ving #res ･ﾟ writing #x reader #x male reader #ask slowd1ving #male reader #orv #orv x reader #orv x male reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint x reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscent reader #omniscient reader x reader #reader squared or smt #kim dokja #kim dokja x reader #kim dokja x male reader #kdj x reader #kdj x male reader

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assortedvillainvault · 2 years

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Hello, Chance anon here! When you have a minute, I’d like some Darksiders fluff, please. You can choose who to write for! Thank you!

Heya Chance! You're a diamond and ily, I'm on the coach to Italy as I write this but will schedule for later in the week to post due to predictably bad internet while on the move.

Fuck yea fluff time.

Vulgrim

Vulgrim can sniff out a gap in the market like nobody's business.

With Earth shattered, basic amenities scarce and the entire remaining human population in one place (the Maker Tree) he has a prime opportunity that his target market simply cannot refuse...

"Vulgrim how the fuck do you know what a spa day is?"

"Hush little mortal or I'll remove your discount. Now, skin detox or pedicure first?"

He huffs in mock affront at your surprise that he actually knows what he's offering. He can't uphold his mercantile reputation without doing research first you know! He's working on a Hellish equivalent to sell to the higher ranking demons.

Pretty soon the entire tree is scrubbing away the grime and stress of the apocalypse. The payment was a promise from Ulthane not to paste him via hammer from across the tree if someone wants to make conversation.

You somehow manage to get him to join in, much to the Makers disdain.

He's adding horn polishing to the HellSpa package - your little hands feel divine, he's tempted to steal you again.

Chancellor

There's very few things that will cause the Chancellor to break his foul mood.

But by now you've got grumpy ghoul wrangling down to a science.

You call it a diplomatic meeting. It's a picnic with wine, bitching and the Undying lands only book club.

It's customary for you to slide a new volume to him and for him to return at the next meeting, book finished and Full of Opinions.

He loves quasi historical political intrigue. He will sputter and shout if you make a comment about how it's the ones with bad romantic clichés and cringy sex scenes that he devours the fastest.

One of these days you'll sneak a portable movie player into the keep and then you'll have to sit through a 10hour rant on the implausibility of Game of Thrones - no DON'T pause it he's not finished yet.

If you get him anything to keep instead of borrow he might actually thank you. Then he'll swear you to secrecy in a blind panic because nobody can know he's not entirely an unmitigated pain in the neck.

Wicked Killington

Did someone say DANCE PRACTICE??!

This man is ready to tango, foxtrot and cha cha at a moment's notice. Don't know how? He'd be delighted to teach you!

It doesn't matter if you're travelling with Death himself, you're being stolen for a jig amongst the rubble. Where is the music coming from? Don't ask.

He's got a gramophone in his Hat. This is never mentioned or brought up again.

He's surprisingly patient and full of encouragement.

Fucking body slams a trauma through a building when it dares interrupt you both. You're eyeing that cane like it's a tactical warhead now.

"The GALL! Honestly my dear these demons- can't even give them the time of day! Now, where were we? A-one, a-two-"

He might be insane, undead and potentially cursed, but he's nothing but a gent and the safest place in the city is probably by his side.

#thalassa responds #darksiders #darksiders 2 #chance coming in with the fluff requests this was lovely #thank you for the ask!#chancellor #wicked k #Vulgrim

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themauvesoul · 3 years

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Bestie,,, please explain about fixing season 8 with mpreg dean,,, I am Intrigued

Ok so. This will make a lot more sense if y’all have seen wynonna Earp but. Deans motive in s8 is to End It All, right? Like his logic is seal up hell -> mop up the rest of the demons on earth -> bada bing bada boom no more problems. Only like. That doesn’t really track? Necessarily? Like dean keeps repeating it’ll be over it’ll be over but like. What’s over. Their hunting careers? The leftovers of the apocalypse?? The endless cycle of grief and loss and misery Sam and dean find themselves trapped in????? Like the reason s8 is so weak for me is partially BECAUSE deans motives are so vague and undefined.

Now before I explain this next bit I need to explain a plot point from wynonna Earp s2. So like. Wynonna Earp is cursed. With the Earp Curse. Which I am not going to explain but basically it passes down through the blood. Wynonna inherited it from her dad when he failed to lift it before he died. That’s like. The premise of the show. And in s2, wynonna gets pregnant for reasons. And like. Before she got pregnant, wynonna didn’t really give that much of a shit about the curse. Like she was just sort of playing along. She never really got into BREAKING the curse because at first she didn’t really give a shit but then as the show progressed she’s like. Invested part of her identity in BEING cursed. She’s the fucking Earp heir!! Watch out bitches!!

Only now she’s pregnant. And she’s suddenly facing the distinct and very real possibility that if she DOESNT break the curse, she’s gonna pass it on to her baby. And like. She didn’t WANT a baby, not really, but she can’t do that. The curse is ending with her, one way or another. So like. In s2 after wynonna gets pregnant shit gets down to the WIRE. she gets desperate! She’s doing everything within her power to break the curse and save her baby!! She’s going up against insanely powerful monsters while NINE MONTHS PREGNANT because she’s THAT dedicated to giving her kid a better life than what she had!!!

So like. Take that knowledge and think abt s8 dean. Like. In a way the winchesters are cursed. They’re the main characters. The plot is ALWAYS happening to them. And honestly? Dean was mostly fine with it. Like sure, he’s miserable, but he’s long past the point where he’s started to define himself as the Righteous Man, Saver Of The World. Dean on his own would happily go on being a miserable victim of the plot for the rest of his life, because he derives meaning and identity from it.

But now he’s pregnant. And he’s suddenly facing the very real and distinct possibility of bringing a baby into a world where he’s got beef with every evil thing under the sun. His baby is gonna be the grand prize for every demon that manages to worm its way topside. And on top of that, deans bringing a baby into HIS life. Where dean is desperately unhappy and trapped in a constant cycle of death and loss and grief. Where dean just has terrible thing after terrible thing happen to him. And suddenly, he isn’t content to let himself be victimized by his own plot relevancy. The curse has to end. For the sake of his baby.

So NOW dean has a lil fire under the belly, so to speak. He’s gonna do anything and everything in his power to make the world a better place for his baby. He’s getting Out, he’s seriously kicking around the idea of retiring, and he ain’t about to leave his enemies to live another day and come back swinging when he’s vulnerable. And sure, monsters aren’t exactly friendly, but deans most dangerous enemies have always been demons. And so. He’s gonna close the gates of hell. Might even close the gates of heaven, while he’s at it. He’s gonna do anything and everything to make sure that this baby has it better than he ever did.

So like. Deans taking on monsters right up until his due date. He’s running himself ragged. He’s running everyone around him ragged. He ain’t stopping until hell is closed and heaven is locked up and he’s gonna do it fast, because he’s on a time limit. Aint no way in hell he’s waiting to finish this thing until after the baby comes. And so. The curse ends here. One way or another.

The other thing that happens at the end of s2 of wynonna Earp is she actually ends up sending her baby away. And I think dean would do the same thing. Like it would kill him on the inside, but he would think about all the people that want him dead, and he’d think about how it was growing up with John dragging him and Sam around, and he’d be like. I have to give my baby up. It’s the best thing I can possibly do for it. Anyways I’m literally begging u all to stream wynonna Earp just so u can see the scene right after wynonna gives birth and is holding her baby and she’s like. Full on sobbing while saying I don’t wanna do it. Please don’t make me do it. While her sister is like. Wynonna we have to get the baby out of here. Literal TEARS in my EYES. And thinking abt dean doing the exact same thing has me on the edge of a mental breakdown

#it’s also juicy bc that scene where dean is convincing sam to stop the trials bc he’ll die #turns into a choice. what will you choose to save dean. your unborn child? or your brother; who’s more like your son

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lokiondisneyplus · 3 years

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A review of “Journey Into Mystery,” the penultimate Loki Season One episode on Disney+, coming up just as soon as I paper cut a giant cloud to death…

Journey Into Mystery was the title of the first Marvel comic to feature either Thor or Loki. It began as an anthology series featuring monsters and aliens, but Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, and Larry Lieber were so smitten with their adaptation of the characters of Norse myth that the Asgardians gradually took over the whole book, which was renamed after its hammer-wielding hero(*).

(*) The early Journey Into Mystery stories treated Thor’s alter ego, disabled Dr. Donald Blake, as the “real” character, while Thor was just someone Blake could magically transform into, while retaining his memories and personality. It wasn’t even clear whether Asgard itself was meant to exist at first, until Loki turned up on Earth in an early issue, caused trouble, and Blake/Thor somehow knew exactly how to get to Asgard to drop him off. Soon, the lines between Thor and Blake began to blur, and eventually Thor became the real guy, and Blake a fiction invented by Odin to humble his arrogant son. It’s a mark of just how instantly charismatic Loki was that the entire title quickly steered towards him and the other gods.

But once upon a time, anything was possible in Journey Into Mystery, which makes it an apt moniker for an absolutely wonderful episode of Loki where the same holds true. Our title characters are trapped in the Void, a place at the end of time where the TVA’s victims are banished to be devoured by a cloud monster named Alioth. And mostly they are surrounded by the wreckage of many dead timelines. Classic Loki insists that his group’s only goal is survival, and any kind of planning and scheming is doomed to kill the Loki who tries. But this ruined, hopeless world instead feels bursting with imagination and possibility.

There are the many Loki variants we see, with President Loki, among others, joining Classic, Kid, Boastful, and Alligator Loki. There are the metric ton of Easter Eggs just waiting to be screencapped by Marvel obsessives (I discuss a few of them down below), but which still suggest a much larger and weirder MCU even if you don’t immediately scream out “Is that… THROG?!?!?” at the appropriate moment. And all of that stuff is tons of fun, to be sure. But what makes this episode — and, increasingly, this series — feel so special is the way that it explores the untapped potential of Loki himself, in his many, many variations.

This is an episode that owes more than a small stylistic and thematic debt to Lost. It’s not just that Alioth looks and sounds so much like the Smoke Monster(*), that it makes a shared Wizard of Oz reference to “the man behind the curtain” (also the title of one of the very best Lost episodes), or even that the core group of Lokis are hiding in a bunker accessible via a hatch and a ladder that’s filled with recreational equipment (in this case, bowling alley lanes). It’s also that Loki, Sylvie, their counterparts, and Mobius have all been transported to a strange place that has disturbing echoes from their own lives, that operates according to strange new rules they have to learn while fleeing danger, and their presence there allows them to reflect on the many mistakes of their past and consider whether they want to, or can, transcend them.

(*) Yes, Alioth technically predates Smokey by a decade (see the notes below for more), but his look has been tweaked a bit here to seem more like smoke than a cloud, and the sounds he makes when he roars sound a lot like Smokey’s telltale taxi cab meter clicks. Given the other Lost hat tips in the episode, I have to believe Alioth was chosen specifically to evoke Smokey.

Classic Loki is aptly named. He wears the Sixties Jack Kirby costume, and he is a far more powerful magician than either Sylvie or our Loki have allowed themselves to be. He calls our Loki’s knives worthless compared to his sorcery, which feels like the show acknowledging that the movies depowered Loki a fair amount to make him seem cooler. But if Classic Loki can conjure up illusions bigger and more potent than his younger peers, he is a fundamentally weak and defeated man, convinced, like the others, that the only way to win the game into which he was born is not to play. “We cannot change,” he insists. “We’re broken. Every version of ourselves. Forever.” It is not only his sentiment — Kid Loki adds that any Loki who tries to improve inevitably winds up in the Void for their troubles — but it seems to have weighed on him longer and harder than most.

But Classic Loki takes inspiration from Loki and Sylvie to stand and fight rather than turn and run, magicking up a vision of their homeland to distract Alioth at a crucial moment in Sylvie’s plan, and getting eaten for his trouble. He was wrong: Lokis can change. (Though Kid Loki might once again argue that Classic Loki’s death is more evidence that the universe has no interest in any of them doing so.) And both Loki and Sylvie have been changing throughout their time together. Like most Lokis, they seem cursed to a life of loneliness. Sylvie learned as a child that a higher power believed she should not exist, and has spent a lifetime hiding out in places where any friends she might make will soon die in an apocalypse. Our Loki’s past isn’t quite so stark, but the knowledge that his birth father abandoned him, while his adoptive father never much liked him, have left permanent scars that govern a lot of his behavior. The defining element of Classic Loki’s backstory is that he spent a long time alone on a planet, and only got busted by the TVA when he attempted to reconnect with his brother and anyone else he once knew. This is a hard existence, for all of them. And while it does not forgive them their many sins(*), it helps contextualize them, and give them the knowledge to try to be better versions of themselves.

(*) Loki at one point even acknowledges that, for him, it’s probably only been a few days since he led an alien invasion of New York that left many dead, though due to TVA shenanigans, far more time may have passed.

For that matter, Mobius is not the stainless hero he once thought of himself as. While he and Sylvie are tooling around the Void in a pizza delivery car (because of course they are), he admits that he committed a lot of sins by believing that the ends justified the means, and was wrong. He doesn’t know who he is before the TVA stole and factory rebooted him, but he knows that he wants something better for himself and the universe, and takes the stolen TemPad to open up a portal to his own workplace in hopes of tearing down the TVA once and for all. Before he goes, though, he and Loki share a hug that feels a lot more poignant than it should, given that these characters have only spent parts of four episodes of TV together. It’s a testament to Hiddleston, Wilson, Waldron, and company (Tom Kauffman wrote this week’s script) that their friendship felt so alive and important in such a short amount of time.

The same can be said for Loki and Sylvie’s relationship, however we’re choosing to define it. Though they briefly cuddle together under a blanket that Loki conjures, they move no closer to romance than they were already. If anything, Mobius’ accusations of narcissism in last week’s episode seem to have made both of them pull back a bit from where they seemed to be heading back on Lamentis. But the connection between them is real, whatever exactly it is. And their ability to take down Alioth — to tap into the magic that Classic Loki always had, and to fulfill Loki’s belief that “I think we’re stronger than we realize” — by working together is inspiring and joyful. Without all this nuanced and engaging character work, Loki would still be an entertaining ride, but it’s the marriage of wild ideas with the human element that’s made it so great.

Of course, now comes the hard part. Endings have rarely been an MCU strength, give or take something like the climax of Endgame, and the finales of the two previous Disney+ shows were easily their weakest episodes. The strange, glorious, beautiful machine that Waldron and Herron have built doesn’t seem like it’s heading for another generic hero/villain slugfest, but then, neither did WandaVision before we got exactly that. This one feels different so far, though. The command of the story, the characters, and the tone are incredibly strong right now. There is a mystery to be solved about who is in the big castle beyond the Void (another Loki makes the most narrative and thematic sense to me, but we’ll see), and a lot to be resolved about what happens to the TVA and our heroes. And maybe there’s some heavy lifting that has to be done in service to the upcoming Dr. Strange or Ant-Man films.

It’s complicated, but on a show that has handled complexity well. Though even if the finale winds up keeping things simpler, that might work. As Loki notes while discussing his initial plan to take down Alioth, “Just because it’s not complicated doesn’t mean it’s bad.” Though as Kid Loki retorts, “It also doesn’t mean it’s good.”

Please be good, Loki finale. Everything up to this point deserves that.

Some other thoughts:

* Most of this week’s most interesting material happens in the Void. But the scenes back at the TVA clarify a few things. First, Ravonna is not the mastermind of all this, and she was very much suckered in by the Time-Keeper robots. But unlike Mobius or Hunter B-15, she’s so conditioned to the mission that even knowing it’s a lie hasn’t really swayed her from her mission. She has Miss Minutes (who herself is much craftier this week) looking into files about the creation of the TVA, but for the most part comes across as someone very happy with a status quo where she gets to be special and pass judgment on the rest of the multiverse.

* Alioth first appeared in 1993’s Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective, a miniseries (written by Mobius inspiration Mark Gruenwald, and with some extremely kewl Nineties art full of shoulder pads, studded collars, and the like) involving Ravonna, Kang, and the off-brand versions of Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor (aka U.S. Agent, War Machine, and Thunderstrike, the latter of whom has yet to appear in the MCU). It’s a sequel to a Nineties crossover event called Citizen Kang. And no, I still don’t buy that Kang will be the one pulling the strings here, if only because it’s really bad storytelling for the big bad of the season to have never appeared or even been mentioned prior to the finale.

* Rather than try to identify every Easter egg visible in the Void’s terrain, I’ll instead highlight three of the most interesting. Right before the Lokis arrive at the hatch, we see a helicopter with Thanos’ name on it. This is a hat tip to an infamous — and often memed — out-of-continuity story where Thanos flies this chopper while trying to steal the Cosmic Cube (aka the Tesseract) from Hellcat. (A little kid gets his hands on it instead and, of course, uses the Cube to conjure up free ice cream.) James Gunn has been agitating for years for the Thanos Copter to be in the MCU. He finally got his wish.

* The other funny one: When the camera pans down the tunnel into Kid Loki’s headquarters, we see Mjolnir buried in the ground, and right below it is a jar containing a very annoyed frog in a Thor costume. This is either Thor himself — whom Loki cursed into amphibianhood in a memorable Walt Simonson storyline — or another character named Simon Walterston (note the backwards tribute to Walt) who later assumed the tiny mantle.

* Also, in one scene you can spot Yellowjacket’s helmet littering the landscape. This might support the theory that the TVA, the Void, etc., all exist in the Quantum Realm, since that’s where the MCU version of Yellowjacket probably went when his suit shorted out and he was crushed to subatomic size. Or it might be more trolling of the fanbase from the company that had WandaVision fans convinced that Mephisto, the X-Men, and/or Reed Richards would be appearing by the season finale.

* Honestly, I would have watched an entire episode that was just Loki, Mobius, and the others arguing about whether Alligator Loki was actually a Loki, or just a gator who ended up with the crown, presumably after eating a real Loki. The suggestion that the gator might be lying — and that this actually supports, rather than undermines, the case for him being a Loki — was just delightful. And hey, if Throg exists in the MCU now, why not Alligator Loki?

* Finally, the MCU films in general are not exactly known for their visual flair, though a few directors like Taika Waititi and Ryan Coogler have been able to craft distinctive images within the franchise’s usual template. Loki, though, is so often wonderful to look at, and particularly when our heroes are stuck in strange environments like Lamentis or the Void. Director Kate Herron and the VFX team work very well together to create dynamic and weird imagery like Sylvie running from Alioth, or the chaotic Loki battle in the bowling alley. Between this show and WandaVision, it appears the Disney+ corner of the MCU has a bit more room to expand its palette. (Falcon and the Winter Soldier, much less so.)

#Loki #spoilers #episode 5 #review #Rolling Stone #Alan Sepinwall

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hawkland · 3 years

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My (mostly) Destiel Recs, Round-up #6

Well, between working like crazy on my DCBB fic and GISH and injuring my neck last month I haven’t kept up with my rec posts, so this one is going to be LONG and have a LOT and I’m going to try to break it up into sections, from oldies but goodies (some things I found on very old rec lists) to smutty delights to just tasty little bits of fluff, hopefully there’s something or everyone here. Most of these are not super-long, largely in the 10-25k range, though there are a few beyond that. With all the stuff I’ve had going on I haven’t wanted to lose sleep diving into 100k epics (especially when I’m writing my own right now, lol.)

“Oldies” but Goodies: Here are two great fics written some time way back when but that still definitely slap.

Theodicy by manic_intent (11k) - Probably the most brilliant Godstiel fic I’ve read to date. One of Cas’s first acts as the new god is to make a new archangel. Dean isn’t exactly on board with having his soul re-sculpted into wings he hates on sight (especially as they seem magnetically drawn to Cas), but he isn’t exactly given a choice. He, Sam and Bobby struggle with how to handle their former friend suddenly becoming a vindictive deity - trying to make plans to kill him if they must, which is pretty hard when it seems like Cas is always one step ahead of him. Can Dean hold on to enough of his humanity to provide a conscience to Cas and try to steer him toward good acts instead of destruction? This is one that I can’t say has a perfectly happy ending, but it’s a hopeful and imperfect one that’s just right for how the story plays out.

My Eyes Are An Ocean by entanglednow (10k) - Season 5 AU where Dean averts the apocalypse through a spell that “powers up” all the angels and he sees Cas’s true form - before being rendered blind. Dean tries to adjust to his blindness, Cas tries to deal with his guilt, and it’s just a lovely little read with an ending that’s... *chef’s kiss*

Lots more recs below the cut:

More great reads from some of my favorite authors I’ve recced before:

The Cabin on the Lake by DeanRH (21k) - This may be my new favorite DeanRH fic...at least for the moment. The year is 2152, Sam and Dean are long gone to Heaven, while Cas - stuck somewhere between mortal and angel - remains on Earth keeping vigil, keeping up the hunt, assuming he’ll never see either Winchester ever again. But when he starts hearing things, and imagining Dean visiting him as an angel himself, he starts losing grip on what is and isn’t real, and whether he can trust anything he sees or believes to be the truth. This is one hell of a psychological rollercoaster that kept me guessing right along with Cas until the very end. It also has some super-creepy horror elements, a novel “monster of the week”, and the hot-as-sin smut scenes I always expect from this author.

X Marks the Scot by DeanRH (15.9k) A fun little romp through history in one of this author’s great not-quite-au fics. Crowley sends Dean and Sam back in history to the Scottish Highlands to stop a monster, and while there they meet a blue-eyed clan chief who makes Dean weak in the knees. There’s something familiar about him, too. a very clever au that ties back to canon for an unexpected fix-it. Also, Cas in a kilt. Enough said.

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon by DeanRH (12k) - Sweet and slightly angsty AU. What if Dean was a gardener in ancient Babylon when a strange dignitary came to warn that the tower under construction was to be destroyed by angels? Lush, romantic and sexy with some wonderful tie-ins to canon characterizations (of Dean, Sam, John and of course Cas).

sufficient for thee by angelfishofthelord (21k) - This is a beautiful Cas angst-fest and character study that reimagines how angel grace works, particularly in regards to healing others. It covers the whole of Cas’s arc from Season 4 through a post-series fix-it, is absolutely stunning and features some great world-building in regards to the angels. (One important TW: those with cutting/self-harm issues may wish to skip or at least proceed with caution). I love that I can always count on angelfishofthelord when I need a good dose of Cas!whump and pain.

And laugh at gilded butterflies by ireallydidthistomyself (13k) - another great Dadstiel fic from this author featuring one of my favorite angsty subjects! I don’t know how I missed reading this one before. An AU where Cas is raising (baby)Jack on his own until the angels find the two of them and prepare to seal Jack away in the Ma’lak box. Cas begs them to let him go with Jack, so at least Jack won’t be alone for eternity. Meanwhile Dean is frantically trying to find what happened to Cas, and he gets some unexpected help from Crowley. It’s sad and sweet and all the characterizations are great. A+ Crowley use here, too.

what stays (and what fades away) by dothraki_shieldmaiden (64k) - a fabulous read with some great art, too, that started me reading a bunch of fic from this author. Cas goes missing, and when he’s found he seems deep under a spell. When they finally manage to awaken him, he doesn’t remember anything of this life with Dean, Sam and Cas in the bunker. The last thing he knew he was a nurse living with his wonderful husband, Dean, and their two adopted children, Jack and Claire. What I loved about this one was the clever twist as to who was behind Cas’s curse and also how well-developed his AU world/existence was. I’m not generally keen on mundane aus or the one-dimensional way a lot of djinn dream fics tend to go for them, but this one managed to capture a believable version of Dean and Cas living a “normal” life without monsters without making it sugary/too-sweet.

before knowing remembers by dothraki_shieldmaiden (14k) Post 15x04, a wonderful fic that plays with some meta topics in a clever way. Dean and Sam are happy - they have free will and they’ve won against Chuck, even if they suffered some big losses along the way (including Jack). But Dean can’t help but think he’s forgetting something...or rather, someone. Yet every time he thinks he remembers, the name and face of that someone slips from his mind.

weights on my ankles by dothraki_shieldmaiden (9k) Post-15x03 where Cas ends up going back to the Gas ‘n Sip and working with Nora after leaving the bunker. A bitter sweet divorce-arc AU and what I love the most is how it ends - not perfect, not tragic, just very real and believable.

15x18 and Post-canon fix-it fics:

Orbital Velocity Around a Celestial Body by LeverDrift (26k) - An angsty but lovely fix-it fic, one where it gets worse for a while before it gets better. Dean pulls Cas from the Empty, where he’d been living in a fantasy world with a dream!Dean who was giving him everything real!Dean is certain he can’t. Dean has to struggle with wondering if Cas would have been better off with dream!Dean instead of him. This is one that will break your heart before putting it back together again as Dean struggles with his self-worth issues.

so good at crashing in by Wintertree (36k) - Another post-finale fix-it where Cas is back, the world is saved, and things are still...not as easy as it should be for either Dean nor Cas. Monsters are gone, there’s no more hunting to be done, and Cas wants to move out of the bunker somewhere closer to Claire, to move on with a proper human life. Dean thinks he can move there with Cas and stay as “best friends”, even to the extent that Cas encourages him to go out and have sex with others/women. (And wants to hear about it after the fact!) But can Dean figure out what he really wants, and what Cas wants as well? A refreshingly unique take on what a post-series life could have looked like for them.

Delicious smut:

Empty by squirrelofcelestialintent (43k) - Every day this fandom makes me rethink my previous squicks and DNWs in fanfic. Here I find myself enjoying quite a bit more dom/sub elements than I normally ever would! I think because I was absolutely drawn in by the breathtaking first chapter, capturing beautifully the emotions of Cas returning from the Empty in Season 13 if he and Dean had confessed their feelings right then and there. But Dean’s self-worth is all fucked up, he feels there’s no way he can be good enough for Cas, especially when his sexual desires run a little bit...let’s just say outside the vanilla and he’s struggling with shame over doing sex work when he was younger. This was HOT and POOR SAM really gets stuck in the middle of, well, hearing more about his brother’s sex life than he ever needed to.

He's My Mate by Hatsonhamburgers (22k) - This fic manages the delightful combination of humor and extreme hotness perfectly. Dean and Cas catch each other in some questionable masturbation situations. This leads Cas to decide he needs to buy Dean some proper sex toys. He’s just helping his best friend out, right? Sure. As I said, hysterical AND hot as hell.

Generals by nanoochka (9k) - Cas/Dean, Cas/Balthazar/Dean, implied past-Cas/Balthazar. An old LJ fic I found on an ancient rec list that is just scorching hot and a brilliant character study of Cas and Dean. Balthazar decides to invite himself in when he catches Dean and Cas engaging in some frisky business, and it turns into a bit of a power-play between the two soldiers of Heaven. Cas gets DP’ed and it’s all...well. It’s fucking good, read it.

The One With The Preening by HolyFuckingHell (5.5k) Can I do a rec post without including some wing!kink/wing!grooming in it? No, I can’t. (I also really enjoyed some of the other fics in this author’s series including The One With Dean's Horny Movies).

A Single Point of Light by Destina (2.4k) - This is a gorgeous Cas/Dean/Benny Purgatory short! A delicious balance of the two each caring for and caring about Dean in their own, protective ways, definitely a delight for any fans of this threesome.

Short and sweet, fluff to angst:

Snugglebird by almaasi (5.3k) - So, so soft and sweet and snuggly, just like the title. Dean’s things are disappearing from the bunker...and so, suddenly, has Cas. What’s going on? I do love my nesting!Cas fics, so...yeah. If you need a smile this is a good one to read :)

And Cleanse Me From My Sin by thisisapaige (1.6k) - another one for my beloveds who also enjoy wing grooming and sweet Dean-taking-care-of-Cas fluff.

Needle and Thread by Misachan (4k) - Season 5 wing!fic hurt/comfort. Cas’s wings are badly injured, Dean doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but he’s stitched up Sam and himself enough times. He can do this. If you love caretaker!Dean and vulnerable!Cas don’t overlook this little gem.

Deceptive Preludes by sp8ce (2.7k) - One of those stories that delves into some of the difficulties Cas might have after coming back from the Empty a second time, especially in regards to accepting what’s real or not, understanding Dean, and how both of their communication issues can add to their struggles. Painful but hopeful for the future, felt very believable as I read it.

#my fic recs #destiel recs #my destiel recs #ok that's it for right now #should be plenty to keep y'all busy for a bit

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knchins · 4 years

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Heaven Sent, Hell Proof - Two

Summary: An angel named Keigo is assigned to win over the soul of a mysterious woman for heaven. He quickly finds that he is not the only one with his eyes on her. Can he get to her before his arch rival does?

Pairing: Angel!Hawks x Reader x Demon!Dabi

Rating: M (for now)

Word Count: 3k

Bingo Prompt: Angels and Demons

Warnings: Mentions of noncon, minor yandere themes

Notes: This is only going to be three parts! I figure it was going to be around 10k and it looks like I was right lol. I hope everyone enjoys part two! And stay tuned in the upcoming weeks for the final part that will include some very...steamy scenes.

Part One → Part Two → Part Three

Keigo had always been confident in his speed, especially while flying. What he wasn’t confident in, however, was how skilled his demonic adversary was in tailing him. Any time he left headquarters, he would sense Dabi nearby. They were after the same thing of course, but what the red winged angel didn’t understand was why he didn't try to find her independently. Why was Dabi so focused on whether or not he could find her himself?

On the third day, he finally got sick of it. He coasted back down to the ground where the demon was hiding in plain sight and landed right in front of him. “Shouldn’t you be out searching for my girl instead of sniffing after my trail?” He asked, an indifferent look on his face.

Dabi smiled in a particularly devious way that had Keigo taking a step backwards. “What’s wrong, Feathers? Can’t take the heat of a demon on your six? Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust that you have some ulterior motive.” Hawks snapped back, wings flexing behind his back as some sort of show of strength. Not that it had any affect on Dabi.

The demon shrugged nonchalantly, “Actually, I thought maybe we could team up this time. Just this once. This girl is something special, don’t you think? Half angel, half human, left to live on earth and not in heaven. Definitely the sluttiest virgin I’ve ever met. I can’t wait to rip that flower from her dainty little hands.”

Dabi noticed the sharp feathers of his wings puff out, standing on end as they tended to do whenever Keigo felt threatened or aggravated. “Don’t talk about her like that. You are not going to defile an angel.”

“She’s not an angel, Keigo.” Dabi said, his voice turning serious suddenly. “She is an abomination, said so by the gods. She belongs in hell with the rest of us. Do you not read your own holy scripture? What do you think they do with nephilim in heaven, bird brain? You think they let them exist as they are?”

Keigo was silent. That had been what he was led to believe. That their half angelic souls resided in heaven. That they were given the same treatment as any god-made angel. However, Dabi was right. The scripture did state that hybrids between man and the celestial were not natural. However anything beyond that just fell short from his memory.

“The pages were missing, right?” Dabi said, seeing the turning wheels in Keigo’s head creaking to a stop as they were met with an impasse. “Ripped out of every version in heaven and earth. Trust me, I know. I know because I’ve been there- and you know that I was. You work for my father, after all. I fell because I wanted answers no one could provide. The gaps in memory. The rules that didn’t make sense. The missing information. It’s all in hell, bird brain. I know everything your daddy wants to keep hush hush.”

“Why would the creators do something so demonic?” Keigo asked with a huff, his feathers relaxing the tiniest bit. “What purpose would that have?”

“What purpose?” Dabi scoffed, “What did my father tell you about this girl? That heaven needed her for the apocalypse? Do you always believe everything you’re told?”

Keigo stared at him with a blank expression, unsure of how he should answer. Why would Enji lie to him? Why would anyone lie to him? Again what purpose would that serve? He was clearly growing frustrated.

The demon knew exactly how Keigo felt, because he too had once been in his shoes. An angel trying to do the right thing. When would he learn that Heaven wasn’t always about doing the right thing? “Listen, Feathers, the reason she was able to live this long is because no one could find her. Her powers only recently awakened and when they did it was like a homing beacon for everyone above and below. She’s more powerful than the average nephilim because of her lineage.”

“Who is her father?” Hawks asked, tired of the run around. “If he is so powerful then why could he not find her?”

“He kept her secret, no one knew she existed until a week ago. Why they sent you, bird brain, I’ll never know. Maybe my dear old dad just enjoys using his little soldier boy to do his dirty work. Maybe you’re just so naive and eager to believe their lies that they thought you could be trusted. What they didn’t count on was me.” Blue flames sprouted from either of Dabi’s hands. “If this is such an important mission, why not send the angel who sired her himself? Why not let him deal with it?”

Again, Keigo was quiet. Dabi did have a valid point. If something as big as the apocalypse was on the line, then why send a lower ranking official such as himself. “Who is her-”

The flames grew brighter. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Angels that copulate with humans get dusted. They get thrown down to hell. But this angel is so powerful that Heaven wouldn’t dream of doing that. Who is the one angel that that could possibly be?”

His golden eyes widened, jaw slackening, “Toshinori Yagi…”

The urge to use her powers had been growing more and more prevalent in the back of her mind. She had lived twenty years without them, so why did she suddenly feel the need to use them at any time she could? Was it simply because of convenience? The thrill of teleporting anywhere in the matter of seconds was just so exhilarating. No more driving, no more waiting at the bus stop, and no more walking. Just pop in and pop back home, that’s it.

She had lived in isolation for most of her life without the need for others. True, up until a year ago it had been with her mother and at first the loneliness was suffocating, but now it was just simpler to be by herself. She didn’t have to explain why she could do the things no one else could. She didn’t have to worry if they were really an angel or demon in disguise to whisk her away. The only one she could trust was herself and that was the one person in all of the realms that she needed.

While she had conceded that not interacting with people was necessary, she did admit that it could be quite lonesome. She had found herself watching more and more romance movies as a way to surrogate that feeling of being with someone. Twenty years old and never been touched, what a joke. Virginity had been hammered into her brain since she was old enough to understand what it was.

But since that fateful encounter with the red winged angel and burn scar demon, she had found herself longing for companionship more and more. The demon had spoken incessantly about the things he would do to her, and at this point she kind of hoped it was more a promise. To her, her innocence was a curse that would haunt her until she could finally get rid of it once and for all.

She had been praying to her father at night for guidance, but she had heard nothing in return. Typical. She had never seen his face and didn’t know his real name. Heaven’s mightiest angel, my ass, she thought bitterly as she walked down the street to the convenience store.

Her mother had taught her not to trust neither angels nor demons. Other angels would kill her and demons would want her for more nefarious purposes, ones she didn’t have to think too hard to figure out. Maybe though, just maybe those things wouldn’t be too bad. Was it possible for her to fall into hell and become a half-demon instead of half-angel? She wished she had asked her mother while she was still alive. It was too late now though.

A sigh left her lips as she lifted her head. She walked past an alleyway where she could hear two men talking. She stopped abruptly, recognizing the voices.

“Toshinori Yagi…”

The name stirred something deep within her, she recognized it but couldn’t place who the person was. She blinked in surprise, having never guessed she’d run into the two after her randomly like that. Not after she had taken precaution not to use her powers and keep herself hidden.

Something stopped her from running away. Fight, flight, or freeze as they say. She stood still, watching them with a curious mixture of horror and fascination.

Dabi noticed her first, a smirk on his mismatched face. “Well, looky here. Guess we don’t have to keep combing the city any longer, bird brain.”

Keigo turned his head, eye widening when he saw her. She was radiant as ever, standing there with a dumbfounded look on her face. Clearly she wasn’t expecting to run into them either. Quickly his eyes snapped to Dabi, “Don’t you dare lay a finger on her.” He said through gritted teeth. His feathers stood on end once more, wings flexing as they tended to do when he got anxious.

“Please, I wouldn’t dream of it, Feathers. At least, not while you’re here.” Dabi said in a sly voice as he approached the nephilim in front of him. “Don’t you want to come with us, doll? Maybe decide who’s side you want to join? The one willing to snuff out your existence or the one that will make you more powerful than you can even imagine?”

Her eyes seemed to grow even larger at his words. Power? Did she want power? There was no denying that the small amount she had been playing around with since her gifts awakened had breathed new life into her. All her life she had felt as if she were going through the motions, not real thought put into anything she did. She kept her head down and kept out of sight, doing the same boring thing day in and day out.

Now that she could do so much more, she truly felt alive for the first time. It was amazing, euphoric even. She knew the gods would rip this power from her and dismantle her existence into nothingness. Were the demons any better though? What would they do to her besides a lifetime of torture? Of course, that was just what her mother told her. She had never had any contact with an actual demon, though she was reluctant to even trust what one would tell her.

“You can give me that?” She asked tentatively, her voice portraying her uncertainty. Dabi didn’t seem to take an offense to this as Keigo watched him with doubt.

The demon reached out, brushing her hair back behind her ear in a way that caused butterflies to erupt in her chest. “I can give you that and so much more.”

Suddenly Keigo’s hand was on Dabi’s wrist, ripping the scarred hand away from the woman before him. “Wait a minute, I deserve a chance for her to hear my side too.” He said, releasing the demon once he was confident that he wouldn’t touch his charge again.

“Settle down, I said she could decide, didn’t I?” He asked with a scoff. “Though once you know the full truth, I believe you may be more...accepting of my offer to her. After all, heaven would have her smote for simply existing.”

Keigo fell silent once more, his gold eyes piercing the half-angel. Her beauty was astounding, captivating him yet like a shiny object might a crow. He didn’t know what to think about what Dabi was confessing to him, but he did know that he would do anything to protect her. Even if that meant he had to fall from heaven to do so. He took her delicate hands into his. “Please, come with us.” His voice was deep and pleading. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

She quickly realized she had no will to resist him and found herself nodding her head. She took both of his hands into hers as she fell deep into his bright golden eyes. “What is your name?”

“Keigo…”

The three of them arrived at her apartment and she told them to make themselves comfortable. Dabi took the opportunity to tell her that the only way he’d be comfortable was if he were between her naked legs, but she chose to ignore the statement.

Hawks sat on the couch while Dabi took to the plush recliner. Their host was in the kitchen making tea for the three of them. “I have always heard conflicting things of what would happen to me if I were to ascend to heaven.” She said, speaking loudly enough for her two guests to hear her. “My mother would say one thing and then turn around and contradict herself in the same breath.”

Dabi was nodding his head, despite her inability to see it. Keigo was giving him a wicked side-eye. “So what have you heard, princess?” He asked. “Just so I can point you in the right direction.”

“Heaven wants me dead.” She said calmly as she entered the living room with a tray of hot tea and a small assortment of cookies. “However, also that angels were trustworthy and will protect me. My father loves me, but won’t respond to my prayers or give me some kind of sign that he even knows that I exist.”

She took a seat next to the angel as she poured herself some tea. “How can angels be trusted if they only want me dead? How can my father love me if he denies my very existence?”

The demon tutted, giving her a mock sympathetic look that she saw right through. “I bet bird brain here will tell you something similar. That you are important to heaven and that you will be reunited with your family there once and for all. The truth is, princess, heaven doesn’t just want you dead. It wants to see your existence completely erased for good. Nephilim don’t go to heaven or hell or even purgatory. The road stops completely for them. Only a god has the power to make a soul completely vanish, but I can assure that every single nephilim that has ever existed has wound up in the hands of one in one way or another. And that’s because they employ some idiot lower tier angel to guide them up there sooner rather than later.”

“You see, we’re only sent after people that are about to die. Your time on Earth was counting down the second we were assigned to your case.” Dabi said rather nonchalantly as he sat with one leg thrown over the arm of the chair. “So this here angel is trying to aid in your demise. You don’t want that, do you?”

Keigo was uncharacteristically silent. Was what Dabi was saying true? Would she vanish without a trace as soon as he took her to the proverbial pearly gates? He had never in his life been faced with such a terrible decision.

He had never felt enamored with anyone before her. The need to wrap his wings around her and shield her from harm felt like his most basic instinct at this point. No other charge had that sort of affect on him. And because of that, he was actually thinking of believing Dabi. He took the demons words in carefully, assessing them, and searching for any sort of dishonesty.

His heart shattered when he could find none. He knew in the deepest recesses of his soul that Dabi was telling the truth about what the gods would do with his little half-angel. Nothing was more terrifying to him than losing her.

“I am…” he almost choked on the words, hating himself for having to even say them, “in agreement with Touya- I mean, Dabi.” He said, correcting himself. “It doesn’t seem like heaven will be a safe place for you.”

She looked at him with warm and caring eyes, clearly seeing how much he was hurting. Many angels had empathic abilities, so it wasn’t farfetched to think that she would have them too. “Demons are supposed to be great liars, but even I can sense that he’s telling the truth.” She said, rather plainly. “But if I do choose him and descend into hell, then what will become of you? I do not want you to get in trouble for my decision.”

“I will go with you.” He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the mortal world. “Tear my wings from my back and accept damnation with open arms as long as I could stay by your side.”

Dabi straightened himself in the chair, somewhat surprised by his confession. Was his arch rival serious in changing sides? Falling from heaven, transitioning from angel to devil, was an extremely painful process. Obviously, he had the scars to prove it. Keigo’s signature red wings would be ripped from his flesh and a creature that had previously never known the feeling of pain would know nothing but. Some didn’t survive the fall and instead descended into madness.

There was always a chance of something going wrong, however the demon kept it to himself for the time being. “I know how to take care of you two birds with one stone.” He said, unable to stop the twisted smile that graced over his mismatched features.

Keigo didn’t like that look, not one big. The nephilim next to him was also feeling a little weary, thinking that perhaps she should take more time in her decision. “What is it?” She asked tentatively.

“Feathers is not going to like it.” He said in a taunting voice, as if he were dangling something irresistible over their heads.

Keigo’s sharp eyes were narrowed with distrust. “Just spit it out, Monster Mash.” He said in a rumbling tone as one feathered wing flexed to wrap around his charge so that he could force her closer to him for protection. She moved so that she was sitting right against him, his wing enveloping her with his body heat.

“It’s time for you two to pop your cherries.” He said, grin growing even wider in the process. “And I’m going to be the one to do it.”

Masterlist || Request Rules

Tag List: @dabi-hates-fish, @hawksward, @httppariis, @kurinhimenezu, @sinclairsamess (comment/message to be added to the taglist to the final part or my permanent tag list!)

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mintly · 4 years

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Days 1, 2, 3. Ghosts, Bones, Graveyard

I’m playing very fast and loose with these prompts, forgive me.

***

The end of the world came and went. The Earth and its billions of humans stumbled onward, as they always had, in their endless, miraculous circles about the Sun. The seasons changed too, as they always had—that first final August morphing to September and then shivering into October, the leaves littering golden across London’s greenspaces. It was a familiar scene, and a welcome one. Autumn arrived in the same way it had for the past six thousand odd years. The routine was reassuring.

But that wasn’t to say that evil, for lack of a better word, wasn’t lurking in dark corners, in graveyards, in the scrolling stock market marquee. It wasn’t to say there was no improbable, horrifying event on the horizon, just as potentially catastrophic as the averted apocalypse or even more so, in certain schools of thought.

Familiarity was dangerous. The passage of time had a way of dulling memory, of easing fears, even in those immortal beings who might otherwise notice tiny, incremental changes in the fabric of reality. Particularly if there were other pressing matters to attend to.

***

“Red or white?”

“Oh, more of this, I should think,” Aziraphale said. He watched the dregs of their previous bottle drop into his glass. The wine rippled, creating perfect waves in a blood red sea.

Aziraphale heard a crash in the other room, followed by a quick string of curses. After a moment Crowley emerged from the backroom, victorious with bottle in hand, though dustier than when he left.

“That table fell over all on its own, honest.” Crowley held up his hands.

“I’m sure.”

Aziraphale snatched the bottle and began the arduous process of drunkenly wiggling the cork free.

“It’s true! That Macbeth was just waiting to throw itself to the floor.”

“Suitably dramatic.”

“‘S what I thought.”

The pair of them met up for dinner once or twice a week, usually resolving in an evening of drinking and increasingly nonsensical conversation. So, not much had changed. Aziraphale wasn’t terribly fussed. He’d always been doing what he wanted to, more or less, except now he didn’t have quarterly celestial reviews.

Ah, right. Aziraphale gave up on the corkscrew and miracled the cork away to either the void between atoms or somewhere in rural Mongolia. One couldn’t be certain.

Without fear of reprimand or need for exaggerated self-justification, it almost took the excitement out of it. Almost.

Aziraphale filled Crowley’s glass and passed it to him on the couch. Their fingers brushed, briefly, and the ghost of sensation sparkled there, for just a moment. He sat back into his chair and tipped wine into his own glass.

He turned away as Crowley settled into one of his signature sprawls on the couch. Something about the way his shirt would ride up over his belt always did something funny to Aziraphale’s heartbeat. He used to fear he had some sort of an arrhythmia. Although, admittedly, it seemed unlikely in his Heaven-granted corporation. He stopped reading medical texts after that.

Aziraphale squinted at the bookshop windows. The first hint of morning light was wading its way through two hundred years of caked grime and dirt.

“We should go to the park.”

“What, now? I don’t know about you, but I can barely get two feet under me at the moment.”

“Sober up a touch then. I doubt there will be many humans there so early, but you know the pond’s lovely this time of day and some fresh air would do both of us good.”

“Espousing public drunkenness, angel? If only Heaven could see you now.”

“They wouldn’t dare say anything about it after our little stunt. Oh, indulge me, you old snake.”

Crowley groaned before curling upright into a sitting position in a manner that suggested a few too many vertebrae. He’d never quite figured out human bones.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” Crowley said.

Crowley tried to sound put-upon, but Aziraphale found it came out rather fond instead. The edges of his exposed yellow eyes crinkled with amusement, and Aziraphale, pleased, smiled back, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. And, for now at least, it was that simple.

#good omens #good omens fic #racket's 13 days of halloween #mintly writes #i have no idea where i'm going if you want on this ride with me #it really is a can you even spot the prompt reference? no? sort of game omg #for now it is Soft #long post

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katcadecascade · 4 years

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Dumplings Before this World Ends (ORV oneshot)

*spoilers up to chapter 235

Summary:

First Murim is known for their dumplings. It's a shame that Kim Dokja mostly remembers that this place is gonna be destroyed later but for right now he'll enjoy the dumplings with Yoo Jonghyuk.

Kim Dokja is a bit ashamed to admit that he has never been asked out for dinner.

As a man in modern society that clings to traditional (heteronormative) relationships, Kim Dokja attempted to ask out a few women in his life. They all declined to no one’s surprise.

It didn’t discourage him to purse romance. It just reinforced his daily solitude to keep reading Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse.

There wasn’t much else in his life to emotionally invest into.

So majority of his life is spent diverging into the words of a fictional world.

Then to everyone’s surprise, Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse became real. There is a lot to unpack there, the whole reality shaking knowledge of trying to understand how any of this is possibly and how so far Kim Dokja has not been dead.

Like permanently because he promised to his companions that he’ll come back.

Kim Dokja is still trying to make his way to them, currently preparing for the Demon King Selection. His plan right now is to get the Breaking the Sky Sword Saint on his side by shoving Yoo Jonghyuk back onto First Murin against the protagonist’s wishes.

It’s a good plan right?

So far, the only kink in the plan is the unexpected invitation to the Gourmet Association.

Oh and the fact that the Breaking the Sky Sword Saint forces Yoo Jonghyuk and Kim Dokja out of her temple to go have dinner.

[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is ecstatic of these turn of events]

A bit dumbfounded, Kim Dokja tried to refuse all of this but instead Yoo Jonghyuk simply started walking to the town district and said one thing as if everything was normal.

“Are you coming or not?”

Kim Dokja could’ve just go back in the temple, pretend that Yoo Jonghyuk didn’t just ask him out for dinner in the rudest way possible, and remain as a dateless nobody he has always been.

After all, who would ever ask out Kim Dokja?

But this is Yoo Jonghyuk, a protagonist that he has followed and practically knows like the back of his hand.

Kim Dokja accepts the invitation and starts walking by Yoo Jonghyuk’s side.

First Murin’s nightlife is a pretty scene to witness in person. No amount of written words it has been described in the novel matches the way Kim Dokja is feeling. He feels otherworldly for stepping into this supposed fictional world, a real tourist in actuality, but as much as he enjoys the scenery is can’t help but morn.

Both he and Yoo Jonghyuk await the fated destruction of First Murim. This place of forsaken tradition is simply not to be. One day this place will fall as depicted in the original novel.

But before then, dumplings.

Yoo Jonghyuk leads them to a hole in the wall restaurant. The restaurant perfectly matches the one in the book, a small place filled with many people and yet the power of the protagonist guarantees a table in the corner for them.

A server quickly gets their order for the all-you-can-eat dumpling special and thus leaves Yoo Jonghyuk and Kim Dokja in silence. Obviously, Yoo Jonghyuk opted to stare out the window rather than the awkward shape before him.

As mentioned before, Kim Dokja has never been asked out on a date and he’s hesitant to even call this one a date. He will always be an introvert at worst and yet with Yoo Jonghyuk he feels weirdly comfortable, sort of.

Any time they’re together it was only to barely make it past a dangerous scenario.

Right now, the biggest danger is probably making it through this night with Kim Dokja’s dignity intact.

“So,” Kim Dokja idly traces the condensation on his glass of water, “how’s earth?”

What he really meant was how the others was but he already asked that back in the Demon Realm. If Kim Dokja knows anything about Yoo Jonghyuk, and he does, then small talk is the last thing the protagonist will indulge in.

Yet this is Kim Dokja and he’s known to annoy Yoo Jonghyuk.

“I wouldn’t have to tell you if did not die.”

“Look, I was fated to die.”

“By the one you love most.”

“Do you have to remind me?”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyebrow twitches. “I killed you.”

“It was a group effort.”

“Do you have any idea,” Yoo Jonghyuk begins hotly but like a star it dies out fast with a muttered, “…never mind.”

“Huh?”

Before Kim Dokja could question further, a server delivers them a big amount of steamer baskets. Yoo Jonghyuk wastes no time to take off the lid, releasing a puff of hot steam of the most delicious smelling dumpling ever created in a once fictional world.

As much as Kim Dokja wants to copy Yoo Jonghyuk on just happily eating the dumpling, he wants something else first.

“You were gonna say something.”

Stubbornly, Yoo Jonghyuk ate a dumpling in silence. In retaliation, Kim Dokja did the most suicidal thing he could ever do (discounting all his previous deaths of course). He stole the next dumpling Yoo Jonghyuk was aiming for.

The protagonist glares at the reader munching on the savory dumpling. It’s very good. A part of him melts at the sheer taste.

Before Kim Dokja could pick out another dumpling, Yoo Jonghyuk says something that shakes the constellation to his core.

“They miss you.”

Kim Dokja remains frozen for an impatiently long time, long enough for Yoo Jonghyuk to grab the next basket for a new set of hot dumplings.

“Bastard, why are you shocked?”

“Because I am.”

If there was another curse in mind, Yoo Jonghyuk doesn’t say it. He just studies how Kim Dokja is currently working his brain in overtime.

Truly, he is shocked because this would be the first time he has ever heard that sentiment directed towards him.

(Did his own mother ever say that to Kim Dokja?)

The concept of someone actually missing Kim Dokja has never occurred to him. It is a genuine surprise to a person lonely and new to friendships. It’s a strange detachment to reality for the reader, especially since he techniqually ‘died’ before them all.

So not only do they miss him, they have grieved for Kim Dokja.

It really is a strange idea to think about, especially since it’s Yoo Jonghyuk presenting all these facts.

Kim Dokja know that Yoo Jonghyuk can’t ever know if anyone has ever grieved for him because the moment he dies, it’s a new timeline. Meaning his friends forget all about the scenarios and sufferings, they all endured. Besides, they usually die before Yoo Jonghuk.

It’s harsh to suggest that maybe Yoo Jonghyuk and the others should get used to Kim Dokja’s death. However, Kim Dokja doesn’t think like that. Instead, he still trying to comprehend the idea that people miss him.

He who is out casted and unremarkable. He who prefers the words of a lonely book. He who has made friends in the first time in his life.

Kim Dokja died for them multiple times already with no regret… well except for this new one.

A ringing ache settles onto his heart, still struggling against these new feelings of something soft and precious.

“I’m going to see them again.” He swallows down a lump of that weird feeling, “I promised them.”

“I know,” Yoo Jonghyuk glares, “You better keep your promise.”

Kim Dokja forces a smile, ignoring the present jumble of emotions trapped inside, “Did you miss me too?”

“You bastard.” Yoo Jonghyuk’s glare is harsher than ever.

The man’s insult is a relief to Kim Dokja. This blunt rudeness is more familiar to him than the warm guilt-ridden idea that his friends miss him.

He orchestrated them to kill him. It’s a bit difficult to remember it.

Kim Dokja will die by the one he loves most.

In the end, Yoo Jonghyuk did the last blow.

Kim Dokja thinks Han Sooyoung will tease him about this ‘poetic’ event.

“I miss them too,” he finally says.

Yoo Jonghyuk stops glaring and nods.

Under his breath, Kim Dokja adds, “That includes you.’

He stuffs another dumpling in his mouth.

It took a lot of boldness to breathe that out. Kim Dokja can’t look at Yoo Jonghyuk.

Yet over Omniscient Viewpoint…

[He missed me?]

If Kim Dokja looked up from his food, he would’ve seen the smallest of smiles on Yoo Jonghyuk.

[…that bastard.]

Eventually the rest of the dumplings are gone but that warm feeling remains inside Kim Dokja.

#my fic #kim dokja #yoo jonghyuk #dokhyuk #orv fic #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint

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steve0discusses · 4 years

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Yugioh Ep 36 S4: Seto Joins Dragon Wife in Hell

So I dunno about you guys, but 2020 aged me like a lot in just these 8 months, so I figured it was time to embrace the feeling of being on death’s door and I decided to learn Mahjong. So I could truly embrace the ancients and vibe in their natural habitat.

Anyway, once I learned some Mahjong lore, some parts of Yugioh just open up. Namely--Seto’s dragons. Like a whole lot of stuff about early Seto Kaiba that confused me at the time just makes so much more sense now.

But unfortunately, he dies this episode, and he never pulled out his Blue Eyes White Dragons, and it’s just like...

...but my Mahjong deep cuts...

Like every episode I’m just rubbing my palms together in anticipation that someone will die, but like...I never get to talk about how in Mahjong, there’s only 4 white dragon tiles, but if you have 3, you can steal the fourth white dragon from another player’s discards, and that when you that, other stuff happens...I don’t get to talk about that because Seto’s hella dead.

So lets just get to the death. Dartz decides to make all of our soldier frenemies attack Pharaoh--because that’s all he needs to raise the Leviathan. Like Dartz doesn’t even really need to finish this game. He just needs Yami.

Seto picks up that these friend (and Pegasus) soldiers that Yami refuses to kill are probably going to end the world very quickly so he decides to do something about it. If this were a blog where I talked about cards instead of Mahjong, then I’d dive into the intricacies of what that even was.

But, we’re not, so lets just talk about Pegasus.

(read more under the cut)

This guy harnesses some psychic energy he’s got leftover from S1 and communicates directly to Pharaoh’s mind.

So, hey, what was that about Pegasus not having powers anymore? Like? He’s still doing this? He’s still psychic and he very clearly can still make blank cards so like...I guess you can take out the eyeball and make him nicer, but you can’t take out some of the effed up magic side-effects. (like there was a comment I didn’t respond to (which, sorry about that, been a little nuts over here in California), but apparently there was a movie in between seasons where Pegasus saved their lives--so he’s legit good now...there was a DLC where character arcs happened.)

Which kind makes you wonder about Marik, but we’ll probably never see him again so o well, save it for the fanfiction.

PS Yami is totally fixating on that eye we can’t see, right? Like...it never outright tells us, but does this spiritual Orichalcos manifestation of Pegasus still have the golden eye? A human eye? Or no eye at all? Just skin?

Not like it matters because Seto does some sort of card shenanigans that undo the whole friends that are soldiers thing like it never happened.

MMMMM I don’t like these weird legs on Yugi. Don’t like the thighs it gave to Joey. No! I’m seeing like this skin-tight silhouette of half an ass right now and I really don’t like it.

Along with other card things I won’t go into that consumed most of this episode, Seto finally got hit by a...well, I mean you can clearly see it in the next cap.

So, in Mahjong, there are 3 types of dragons: a white dragon, a red dragon, and a green dragon. I used to think it was really lazy that we’re just calling monsters straight up “white dragon” or “red dragon” in this show, but now it makes more sense because this whole time it was probably baby’s first Mahjong reference but I’m too Western to know that.

Anyway, the white dragon is funny looking because it’s a white tile--just a completely blank white tile. I thought it was a wild card at first but nah--it’s a white dragon in a snowfield--which is a very funny Dad joke from 200 years ago we’re still doing today. But, often, instead of a Dad joke, they’ll just make the white dragon tile a drawing of a blank card, like this:

Kind of funny that the guy who’s shtick is white dragons, ended up with his soul in a blank card. Was that a mahjong reference? Probably not, but I noticed it.

And mahjong aside, the show paid it’s respects to Seto dying and so he took his sweet time passing on. It’s still not that much respect. We aren’t gonna get that amazing Joey death sequence from S3 that took like half an episode of scene-shredding for our mains to recover from, but like...Seto was very determined to keep going, despite not having a soul.

He even finished his turn of cards, as if to just spite Joey Wheeler for that one time Joey hella died before killing Marik.

Shippers rejoice, it’s a Yami and Seto Kaiba death sequence. If you squint really hard, it might even be an embrace. I mean they both have very sharp duel disks on, and if Yugi’s closes for whatever reason, it’ll snap Seto’s head clear off, but what other “hugs” do we really get on this show?

And as for Mokuba, he was quite tragic this episode. I mean it’s Yugioh, so it’s not like you’re gonna cry or anything, but Mokuba just doesn’t really have anything else going for him without his brother so it is legit like...man Mokuba gets a lot of crap thrown his way and even when he’s happy, he still has to live with Seto so just...Mokuba...

Again we get this bubble effect of other people trying to enter the Orichalcos which happens just a Hell of a lot this season. Like Dartz probably has never had a single person WANT to go in the green zone in 10,000 years and then these bizarre children happened and they just want to bounce off that thing like a jello pudding.

I think it took over 5 minutes for Seto to die, and he was very, very, VERY angry the entire time. Just fueled by literally nothing but rage. Could probably go a couple more episodes if he had taken a nap in the KaibaCopter, but alas, even Seto Kaiba eventually runs out of fumes.

Anyway, another Mahjong fun fact. The dragon tiles are considered an “honor tile” and how many times have we heard Seto--who is such a scumball--go off about his honor? It can be hard to use honors tiles because their rate of success is lower, so when Seto’s like “I have to live up to my dragon’s honor or I can’t keep these in my deck” could he be like...making a Mahjong pun as well as a literal reference to whatever he defines as honor?

...Again, just a Mahjong reference I noticed, but probably not what they intended at all. Which is Good Enough for this blog.

After he tragically passed on, and Yami delicately put his body on the ground, -- Dartz decided to make this moment very funny for me, instead.

Bless.

Not as good as Yami the both times his body was chucked casually across the screen this season--but a very good toss, nonetheless.

I have made so MANY clips of this season!

Tristan and Tea kinda just stood there this entire episode while this was all going down and like...I know they can’t really do anything else at this point but like...can someone give Mokuba a hug???

I can’t believe Valon was the only guy in this entire show about friendship who knew how to hug people. He was in prison since he was 9, and then was raised by freakin Dartz, why is he the only hugger?

PS, apparently Seto’s yummy soul was enough to make the Leviathan open a single eye-ball in curiosity.

Mokuba out there flinging so many insults that he got everyone else banned from watching devil cards. It’s like sports competitions in Middle school with that one kid who won’t stop cussing. That one kid who is the reason everyone else has to sit through a boring ass assembly about sportsmanship? That’s Mokuba.

Now that everyone is ‘passed out’, we can get to the juicy stuff only the olds talk about--which sounds a lot like I’m about to do another segway into talking about Mahjong again, but I’m actually all out of the Mahjong juice. Again, I’m ass at Mahjong.

(and like...the peanut gallery died in the original version, right? I know to never trust a “they’re just sleeping” line in Yugioh.)

Dartz telling me he dragged that ass length blue hair across Egypt?

Man.

I would say that it must’ve really thrown people, but then again, their Pharaoh looked like...that.

So Dartz ended up wandering the earth for 5000 years, cursed to live immortally, unable to revive the great Leviathan, wallowing in his failure. Sentenced to suffer the entire existence of humanity that he never wanted to see survive anyway, unable to die himself.

That’s an interesting plotline that I wish I saw more of. I really like the idea of a supervillian who is already past his prime, who’s already burnt out, who’s so far removed from what happened that he’s fully accepted his demise and is just wandering around out of habit. But, most importantly--that changes my math. That’s like...5000 years he wasn’t slurping no souls because he was too damn depressed. So I’ll append the Deathcount. One second.

OK so we can just subtract 7.3 million from what we had, leaving us with: 7,805,844,047. Barely even made a dent but...eh...when you got the current population of the Earth in there it’s really hard to make a dent in that thing.

PS I still have that google doc where I keep track of the deaths, we have 55 lines of entries, haha.

Yugioh is interesting because you do have some racial stuff going on here where Yami is SO OLD that he doesn’t remember not only his own name--he doesn’t remember what he looks like. He’s even seen it a few times in hallucinations but like...Yami legit doesn’t know what it is to be an ancient Egyptian anymore. It’s been a hot minute, and he still sees himself as a pale skinned Yugi clone when he spiritually manifests in the show. Because the modern day, set in Japan, through Yugi’s eyes--that’s all he knows about life.

Dartz was so impressed by Pharaoh’s magic powers that he knew--he just KNEW that this Pharaoh with the worst hair would be the yummy soul for the Leviathan tummy. But unfortunately...

This is a show that has had so MANY overlapping apocalypses that I did have to sit back and kind of count off on my fingers which crazy person this would be about.

Honestly? Either Seto or Bakura...guessing Bakura because we haven’t finished his storyline yet and I know that he’s the big bad of S5. But man...Dartz was just like “oh...no thanks to that guy. I’ll just take a nap for 5000 years, BIG no thanks.” and it does make you wonder...

...oh...so that’s why you didn’t bother Bakura in this timeline.

It also helps make Bakura even more of a threat. Again, Bakura is great because he’s just constantly leaving nuggets of what a threat he is and then just...disappears for seasons on end. The Bakura we’ve made in our head is probably way more awful than what he may end up being.

But for now, it’s fun to just fill in the gaps instead.

anyway that was it for this episode, I’m off to pretend it’s Thanksgiving week and will look forward to drowning my anxiety in a 16 lb turkey shared between four people.

Anyway, I brought up the cat that falls asleep on metal rods so I have to do this:

And for those that are new, this is a link to read these in chrono order: https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugioh #ygo #yu-gi-oh #yami #dartz #seto kaiba #dies #mokuba #tea gardner #tristan taylor #Yugi Muto #Joey Wheeler #'s weird ass pants with the flap thing going on #mahjong #S4 Ep36

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tlou2holland · 4 years

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Joel x reader (Pt 4)

Summary: You sneak out of Jackson and worry Joel

warnings: some cursing, killing of infected

you can read the previous parts here

The rest of your night is spend hidden away in your home, thoughts racing and keeping you from any sleep. Are you and Joel in a relationship? Although the thought scares you, you like how it sounds in your mind. Boyfriend and Girlfriend. Who would have thought that dating in the apocalypse is still nerve wrecking and scary? You always thought that if you meet someone you like, you’d be together and that’s it. Nowadays is not the time for tiptoeing around and playing games, given that you could die any day. But you and Joel are not official, and only stand at the beginning of god knows what. Do you want to be official with him? Face the judgement of others and live under pressure of having to make it work? You don’t know, another question about Joel you can´t find an answer to. You just know that he likes you, finally, after four years of playful flirting and hidden glances. You toss in your bed and hug the covers close up to your chin, nose poking out so you can breathe. You almost got intimate with Joel, if it wasn’t for Tommy to walk in on you. You just hope he keeps his mouth shut, to talk with Joel about it would be embarrassing enough. But how did all of this happen? How long has he liked you, too? And what made him make a move on you? Jesse and Dina would tease the shit out of you if they knew about your little fling with Joel, but you don’t want to tell anyone, at least not yet. What if Joel changes his mind and suddenly doesn’t want you anymore? You wouldn’t be ready for the rejection, less everyone knowing about it. But you doubt that Joel would reject you, he looked at you in a way only few men looked at you before, and never did it feel so good to you. He wants you, and it makes you insanely giddy and happy. Joel really wants you.

Once your mind grows tired and your body becomes heavy, time passes faster and you awake the next day, feeling truly rested for once. Having no duties or meetings planned, you lazily stretch and yawn, running a hand over your sleepy face. You could stay in bed and let the day slide away, or take a walk and do whatever afterwards. So you get up and quickly wash yourself, eating an apple in between. Your jacket keeps you warm as you leave your house, the people in Jackson already wide awake and moving around. You see Marcus along with some of his friends moving a load of vegetables towards the kitchens. Maria quickly walks past you and just waves, a map and pencil in her hands. You watch her walk towards Tommy´s and hers house, Tommy already standing outside the porch with a mug in his hands. You quickly turn around and walk the opposite way, feet carrying you towards the east gate where you slip past and dip into the woods. You won’t stroll too far away, having only your knife and no gun with you. You just want to find something nice to decorate your home with. Maybe a rock or even flowers, depending on what would cross your path. You inhale the crisp air and observe the ground, seeing traces imprinted into the wet mud. You wrinkle your forehead and lean down, fingers touching the earth. It still moves around and squeezes to the side at your touch, so the trace is fresh. It almost looks like some kind of hoof, maybe from a deer or moose. You decide to follow it and rub the dirt between your fingers until it dries and dusts off. It’s been ages since you’ve last seen a moose, and the thought of maybe finding one excites you. You carefully creep through the woods, eyes still stuck on the trace while your ears listen for any unusual sounds. But there’s nothing, just your own breathing and munching of footsteps in the ground. Peaceful, you think. You find comfort in silence, and turn your thoughts off for once as you concentrate on finding the majestic animal. After wandering around and loosing the trace a couple of times, you finally find it again. Footsteps? You tilt your head and count the imprints. The hoofs are still there, but next to it are footsteps, the imprint of the sole clearly visible. You frown and grab your knife, hiding in the safety of trees as you continue your way, eyes now looking around with caution. As much as you’d like to, you can´t trust foreigners these days. And the thought of possibly meeting one doesn’t sound much appealing to you. Your heartbeat quickens as you hear an animal breathing heavily somewhere to your left. It sounds like its in pain and moans from time to time, making you tighten the grip on your knife. “What the-“You mumble as the sound of smacking and scratching fills your ears. You hide behind another tree and peek your head out, mouth opening at the scene in front of you. Apparently the footprint aren’t human ones, but from Runners. Three of them delight themselves on the moose, a bloody trail showing where they surprised, and brought the animal down. You feel your stomach turn and look away, feeling sorry for the moose that draws its last breaths, throat and insides pried open. Kill them or go home you weigh out in your head. The runners are distracted and probably wouldn’t notice you, but you’d alert the remaining two after killing one. But if you don’t kill them, they’ll stroll further around and hurt innocent people, or find their way towards Jackson. You sigh in distress, and just decide to risk it. Maybe if you’re fast enough, you can take two down before they put up too much of a fight. You come out of your hiding spot, creeping up behind them with silent steps. They’re to occupied with ripping meat of their prey, and you choose the one at the back to kill first. Determined to make your plan work, you jump forward and clasp your hand around the runners mouth, holding it closed while you stab your knife into its skull and pull him backwards, further away from his infected friends. One raises its head and looks around with wild eyes and bloody mouth, the usual screams coming out before he digs into the moose again. You’re quick to duck and lay on your stomach, knife secure in one hand while you crawl yourself forwards with the other one. Maybe if you throw something into the woods they’ll split up and follow the sound. You feel around for anything heavy to throw and find a rock, weighing it briefly in your hand. That one would have been nice to take home. You think, before throwing it with all your power into the labyrinth of trees. One runner sees the rock connect with a branch and fall to the ground, instantly sprinting towards it. The other one just looks up and drops the flash he’s eating, furiously biting the air. You shake your head in disgust and get up, running over to the infected with your knife held out in front of you. Your blade connects with its chest and you push it in, knocking it down onto the moose and holding his face away from you with your hand. You pull your knife out and aim for the head, but the runners fist connects with your temple and sends you flying to the ground, rolling off the runner and onto the moose. You feel it’s warm blood soaking your clothes and groan, shielding your face just in time to dodge another hit of the runner. He´s trying to scratch and bite into your skin, while you struggle to keep its nasty mouth away from you. “Get off!“ You mumble breathless, anxiously looking for your knife but not seeing it anywhere. At the sound of your fighting, the other runner returns from the woods and looks for the source of the noise, teeth clasping upon each other. You see no other way out and let the runner get to you, waiting until his teeth almost sink into the flesh of your neck before grabbing the head and ripping it to the side with all your strength. You quickly get up and kick the runner that lays beneath you, boots connecting with its skull. You feel the bones breaking beneath your feet and continue bashing its skull in until it stops moving. You have no time to think about what to do next, and simply run. Shit shit shit. You jump over fallen trees and slide beneath some that are too high, the sound of blood rushing through your ears the only sound you hear. Your head hurts and your lungs ache for air and a break, but you push through. You have no idea if the runner follows you or not, but you don’t want to find out. “Y/N!“ You collect with something hard, falling to the ground and wincing as your leg lands on some branches. You look up and see a tall figure standing in front of you. You wipe the mud from your face and blink fast, trying to see clear again. “Joel?“ You squint your eyes and he crouches down, giving you his hand. You take it and he pulls you up into his chest. “What are you doing out here?“ He sounds angry and puts you at arms length. Your face and clothes are covered in a mixture of blood and mud, and your jacket ripped at one arm where the runners nails almost got trough. “I was- Runners.“ You stutter, catching your breath while holding your temple, feeling something warm. “Are you alright?“ Joel runs a hand over your arms and sides, looking for any visible injuries. “I think so, one is still here somewhere.“ You crane your neck to look back, but Joel grabs your chin and makes you look at him. His touch is firm and its clear to see that he’s not amused. “We´re going back. I´v been worried sick looking for you.“ With that he urges you to move in front of him. You sigh, still out of breath and start walking, your leg hurting more with each step. Surely it’s going to form a bruise. “How did you know I was here?“ You ask, hearing Joels heavy steps right behind you. “Tommy saw you slipping out the gate and told me.“ He grumbles. “He told you?“ You try not to sound too confused, but Joel catches up on your tone. „Well-“ He starts, stopping to form his next words before catching up with you. “After what he saw yesterday, he thought I’d like to know. And he was right.“ Joel walks next to you now, sneakily grabbing your shaking hand and slipping his fingers trough yours. You steal a glance into his direction, and he does the same. “Your hand is muddy.“ He says. You snort at the dryness in his statement. “That´s because I was crawling in the mud only minutes ago, in case you didn’t notice.“ You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but he’s only holding tighter onto you. “Don´t do that again.“ His voice softens slightly and your heart melts at the concern written all over his face. “I won´t. For the next couple of days at least.“ You mumble the last part and Joel gives you a warning look, not finding your little comment all too funny.

“So Tommy knows about us?“ You change the subject and take a deep breath, your lungs still burning. “He knew way before that I like you.“ Joel confesses, staring straight ahead and the tip of his ears turning red. “He´s my brother.“ He shrugs his shoulders and you try to read his face, but can´t pin his emotions. “Why didn’t you make a move before? I mean, I’ve been here for four years and you never gave in to my flirting. I thought you don’t like me that way.“ You quickly wipe over your forehead, getting rid of some of the sweat that collected there. “It´s not easy for me. You’re way younger than I am, you know? It just felt wrong.“ He reasons, grip on your hand loosening. This time, you hold him tight and shake your head. “I don´t care about your age, never have. You cant choose who you feel attracted to.“ You wanted to say love, but stop yourself last minute. “That´s what Tommy told me, too. I just couldn’t believe him. But when we were so close and you touched my face, I don’t know. Something inside of me just snapped.“ Joel´s eyes start to soften and he rubs his thumb along the back of your hand. “I´m glad that it did. I felt guilty for liking you, still do, but it feels good. I haven’t felt like this in a long time.“ He continues, and your heart almost leaps out of your chest, while it breaks at the same time. “You don´t have to feel guilty for liking me, Joel.“ You lean into his side but he stays stiff. “You don´t think I’m holding you back? You could be with someone your age who acutally-“Joel talks but you only hear nonsense coming out of his mouth, so you stop him. “Holding me back? You’re saving my ass and make me feel good. I want you, Joel. No one else, only you.“ You gently grab onto his arm and pull on it to emphasize your words. Joel chuckles and nods his head, sighing in defeat. “I´ll always save your ass.“ He mocks your choice of words and you roll your eyes, smiling. “Good, cause I wouldn’t want it any other way.“ You end the discussion by quickly leaning up, ignoring the pain in your leg, and pressing a soft kiss to his beard. “Now lets go back, I want to get out of these clothes. “Oh, I can help with that.“ Joel winks at you and you blush, grinning from ear to ear. “Maybe another time.“ You teasingly nudge his side and let go of his hand as soon as the gates of Jackson come into sight. You regain your composure and Joel does the same, clearing his throat. “Can I come over later?“ You ask, resting your palms against the top of your jeans. “I´ll be waiting for you.“ Joel gives you a smile and walks towards the gate, you following behind with a little distance. So we’re unofficially official, you think. I can live with that.

————

Thank you all for the positive feedback, I appreciate it ! Reading your comments makes me really happy :) This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but the next one will be longer (and smutty *cough*), so be ready!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller series #joel miller x oc #tlou pt 2 #tlou2 #tlou icons #tlou2 icons #tlou2 fanfic #tlou fanart #tlou part 2 #tlou masterlist #tlou2 masterlist #masterlist #fanfic

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holylulusworld · 5 years

Text

Love tonight

Request: Do you think you could do a lion king sort of thing... like Sam and the reader were friends when they were young and everyone thought they’d end up together but then he goes to Stanford and then they meet again after all the shit (all the things he blames himself for) and they have a can you feel the love tonight moment but the reason she had run into Sam was that she needed help as someone who knows of all the things Sam had done and Sam didn’t tell her about what he’d done.

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker, Ellen Harvelle, Bobby Singer

Warnings: angst, threats, mentions of blood addiction, fluff, protective Sam, scared reader

A/N: We are in season five for my story. Gordon is still alive, just like Ellen and Jo. I didn’t make the reader a hunter, rather a shop owner providing weapons, books and ingredients for hunters.

“Listen, I don’t know what you are talking about, Sir. I haven’t seen Sam Winchester for like seven years. The last thing I heard him say was he wanted to leave for Stanford.”

Stepping backward, grasping for anything to fend the angry hunter off you try to calm Gordon.

“I know you were high school sweethearts and all.” Smirking Gordon steps closer. “Do you know what a monster your lover became?”

“I told you I haven’t seen Sam for years!” Panicked you glance at the door of your store. If you can make a run for it you could reach your car. “How can I know about anything he did?”

“He is not a man, he’s a monster drinking demons’ blood.” Gordon steps closer, searching your face as you take another step backward.

“Blood? This is…” Shuddering you try to buy time. “I didn’t know…” Your hands are shaking as you touch the knife in your jacket. “I swear I have no contact.”

“I don’t care, Sweetie. Sam still has a thing for you. Some time ago…” Now he smiles devilish. “I got hold of him, checked his wallet and there was a picture of you and him in it.”

Your heart flutters at Gordon’s words but right now is not the time to remember your feelings for Sam. If you want to make it unharmed out of this situation you need to play along till you can use the momentum and run.

“What else did he do?” Playing your role you clear your throat. “I need to know, Mr. Walker. If a skilled hunter like you is after Sam, he must be a monster.” Your voice is trembling, but you try to give Gordon your best poker face.

“He started the apocalypse, Y/N. Sam Winchester was best buddies with a demon, drank her blood and is one of those ‘gifted’ children.” Gordon smirks as he can see the doubts creep into your thoughts.

“So, he changed a lot…” Whimpering the words you glance at Gordon who secures his gun and that’s the moment you go for a run.

Dashing toward the door you grasp for the door handle; not caring Gordon is closely behind.

When you are out of the door you zigzag to make sure he can’t shoot you. Your breath comes out in heavy pants, but you make it to your car right before Gordon can get hold of you.

All you can think about is to find Sam to warn your friend that a crazy hunter is after him. There is no way Sam would ever do such a thing…no way…

“Ellen, thanks a lot. That guy is a lunatic for sure. He aimed a gun to my head and threatened to kill me if I do not tell him where to find Sam Winchester.” Downing the offered drink in one go you try to calm your nerves.

“Gordon Walker. He won’t give up for sure.” Bobby grumbles as he paces around his living room. “Bastard!”

“Is…is anything true that he said?” Glancing at Bobby you can see the struggle all over his face. “He drank blood and started the apocalypse?”

“Not willingly, Y/N. A demon tricked him, killed his brother and Sam, he went after her. He killed Lilith and…” Bobby nervously rubs his neck.

“I get it. He broke the last seal by killing Lilith…” Smirking you give the elder hunter a wink. “I am no hunter, but I know the Bible and lore like my left hand. So, he is not evil?”

“Who is evil?” When Dean enters the room, you recognize two things. He’s still a handsome bastard and his eyes are sadder now. You assume he went through a lot of shit over the last years.

“Dean Winchester. My secret love…” Teasing the elder brother you hug him tightly. “I heard you are dead, Winchester. Did you play Lazarus?”

“Long story, short. Angel dragged me out of hell. Name’s Castiel and he’s member of team free will now.” Dean smirks, pecking your cheek.

“Missed you, Kiddo. How have you been except for Gordon Walker trying to kill you?”

“Good. Awful. Then good again until that lunatic entered my shop and burned it down after I escaped. I hate that guy for sure.” Glancing over Dean’s shoulder you smile, letting go of the elder brother to run toward Sam.

For a moment you just look at each other. Sam and you never needed many words to understand your friend’s needs. Both of your life’s influenced by your dominant fathers, you gave each other shelter.

Sam holds your hands, gently rubbing his thumb over your skin. He breathes heavily, just like you and then Sam finally places one hand onto your cheek to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

Dean chuckles slightly, while Ellen and Bobby leave the room to give you privacy.

Despite the reason, you found each other again no one can take the moment of your reunion away from you.

“I am sorry Gordon was after you because of me. I did awful things and…” Placing two fingers onto Sam’s lips you shake your head.

“Sam, this wasn’t your fault. That guy is crazy. I know you did a few things you are not proud of, but we all have a past. We need to move on and stop Gordon.” Looking up at Sam, grasping for his hand you stand there in silence.

“Y/N…I am not the young man you used to know. I changed a lot.” Sam’s voice sounds broken, his eyes are sad, so you try to lighten his mood.

“I can see that…” Squeezing his biceps you smirk. “You grow some muscles.” Sam laughs at your words, knowing you want to help him relax.

“Y/N, we need to talk about Gordon and what we want to do now but first…” Wrapping his arms around you Sam sighs as you rest your head against his chest. “I’ve missed you, Y/N. All those years I wondered if you forgot about me.”

“Never, Sam. I never forgot about my best friend, my first love.” Mumbling the words, you close your eyes, just enjoying Sam’s closeness. “I already have an idea on how to take Gordon down…”

“Hmm…my smart girl…”

Watching Gordon fight the cops you smirk. He’s yelling something about the son of the devil, cursing their incompetence.

The cops are unimpressed. They are more interested in the content of Gordon’s trunk. Guns, knives and occult symbols catch their interest and will make sure you won’t hear from Gordon Walker anytime soon.

“Great idea, Kiddo. This way we get rid of him and don’t need to kill him.” Dean whispers as Sam worriedly watches the scene.

“What if he gets out, Dean? What if he goes after Y/N again?” While you look up at Sam his elder brother smirks behind your back.

“I guess you need to make sure your girl stays with us in that case.” Shrugging Dean gives his brother a wink. “Only to make sure she’s safe…”

Nodding Sam takes your hand in his, kissing the knuckles softly. “Dean is right. I think you are safer with us around.”

“If you insist.” Smiling you squeezes Sam’s hand, following the tall hunter toward his brother’s car.

“Well, come on Sammy. You can celebrate your reunion later…”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katsav17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @shadowkat-83, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore, @meganywinchester, @miraclesoflove, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @kayla-2000, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @cassiopeia-barrow, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters, @mscarter213, @jo-like-josette, @mep6811, @prettydeaneyes, @rvgrsbrns, @deanwanddamons, @tearsforhan, @skittlebittz, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

Sam/Jared Forever Tags

@moosekateer13, @thevelvetseries, @train-wrecc

#Love tonight #Sam Winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader angst #sam winchester x you #sam x reader #sam x you #angst #dean winchester #request fill #sam winchester one shot

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colour-outside-the-liness · 3 years

Note

Hi Colour! This is going to be a long one, so buckle up!

Oh wow, that's so precious! You've definitely earned the "real life Dani" nickname haha I wish I could find something meaningful like that to do with my life. I'm actually autistic and have ADHD so hearing you do this kind of work makes me really happy! Keep up the good work Ms. Clayton! 😁 Haha

You sound like a lot of fun to hang out with at pubs! Haha I'm glad you identify with that bit of info on your star placements. I had a lot of fun doing it too!

The thing about Hozier is that some of his lyrics are incredibly sapphic to me for some reason, I'm still trying to figure it out. NFWMB is one of the songs that feels like that to me. Don't know if you've heard it before but give it a try if you haven't. If you close your eyes it sounds like you're in an epic romantic story and there are swords, pretty gowns, and rooms lit by torches. Haha

The beginning of this song was inspired by a poem written by W.B Yeats called "The Second Coming" in 1920, and it talks about an apocalypse of sorts, alluding to all of the horrors men inflicted upon the world which ends up awakening this beast that goes to Jesus's place of birth in the Bible (Bethlehem) to be born. The last lines being:

"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"

So the song starts with:

"When I first saw you

The end was soon

To Bethlehem it slouched

And then, it must've caught a good look at you"

And oh boy do I think of Dani when I hear that. Especially bc of that scene where Viola accepts Dani's invitation to live inside her. And nobody knows why she accepts it (but I do!).

And yeah at first glance you might not think much of Dani. in the beginning she's just a tiny frail small-town girl with a lot of anxiety, running away from her past traumas. But she proves us wrong again and again and again. She moves to a country she's never been before entirely by herself, sees an opportunity, and doesn't let go of it even when it looks like it went wrong. Then is very loving and tender with these children who have gone through so much and are still going through so much. Tries to fight (with a fire poker!!) the threatening man that keeps harassing her, the children, and her friends. THEN manages to soften the angry, grumpy lesbian who's given up on people after A LOT of trauma (too much in my opinion) and doesn't give up on her when she rejects her either. Freaking exorcises her ex and makes him stop haunting her so she can be with the love of her life. And then finally as if all of that didn't make her the bravest hero in this story, she literally stops an apocalypse from happening and saves everyone from this beast by sacrificing herself without even thinking twice. Saves everyone that came before her and then the ones who'll come after for the rest of eternity. I mean the P-O-W-E-R this girl has. 💪 so hell yeah the lady in the lake wanted to take her.

When Hozier says:

"Ain't it a gentle sound, the rollin' in the graves?

Ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes?

Ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay?

Ain't you my baby? ain't you my baby?"

I can only think of Dani at the bottom of the lake laying on top of all the bones of the people Viola killed and how she's at peace living forever in a dark place like that. That's kinda hardcore y'know?

After the first verses, Hozier goes on to talk abt his lover, someone so utterly terrifying even the beast of the end of the world can't stand to look at them. But this song is also about being proud to be this person's lover bc nothing can fuck with them, not bc you are there to protect them and wouldn't let anyone harm them, but bc they're more than capable of protecting themselves and you too. So in my head, this song is Jamie's declaration of love to Dani.

And then I think of Jamie's devotion to Dani when she said "If you can't feel anything, then I'll feel everything for the both of us." shown in this verse:

"If I was born as a blackthorn tree

I'd wanna be felled by you

Held by you

Fuel the pyre of your enemies"

And the fact that she took what she could get just to be with Dani. She knew she'd have to suffer for/bc of her at some point, but chose to be with her anyway. I have no doubts in my mind she'd want to be anything for her as long as they could be together in any way, shape, or form. In all the lives they happened to meet one another too.

Wouldn't it be cool to see them in an AU where Dani is like a medieval princess who's supposed to marry Edmund to form an alliance between kingdoms or something and Jamie is an assassin who is hired to kill the princess so she has to pretend to be Dani's personal guard or wtever but they fall in love and run away together and Jamie teaches her how to fight so Dani becomes this warrior but turns out Dani is naturally good at it and then she becomes a legend? Hahaha I can see her riding a horse in the winter with paint on her face and her blonde hair falling over this fur-lined cloak, fierce look on her face, and Jamie riding next to her (always). Then they come across Viola who's a witch and puts a curse on Dani and then Dani and Jamie have to travel to all sorts of places and fight all sorts of people and go on this whole adventure to rid Dani of this curse. Maybe Dani has to go back to her kingdom bc her father dies and there are other people trying to take her kingdom so there's a lot of angst and suffering but then they win at the end after a lot of sweat and tears and they live happily ever after! 😎Hahaha

Anyway, I hope you're having a great week so far and hope you had fun with your niece today! (I know if I was her and you had us make fudge and paint I'd worship you haha) I'm sorry for the very (very) long ask, but I've been obsessing over this idea for months and I just had to share it with someone! ✌️✨

(And you can call me Libby or wtever since I'm not anon anymore 🤗)

Awwh thank you so much for saying I have earned my 'real life Dani' title is means a lot to me that you guys see that in me!! I am sure you do so many meaningful things in life without even realising it!! I honestly just want to make a difference and I love helping people so going into a career like this just seemed so natural to me and I really do love what I do!! Thank you so much I really hope I can keep up the good work!! I hope I'm a lot of fun- I know I have helped win a few pub quizzes and there's been a few times I've won games of trivial pursuit as well so that really did make so much sense to me and learning about all the placements of my chart was so much fun and was so interesting so thank you very much!! I have heard some of Hozier's lyrics are quite sapphic and I always mean to look into more of his songs and then just never do but I will definitely look in to NFWMB because the lyrics you have sent me here are incredible and definitely give of Dani x Jamie vibes I definitely agree with you in everything you have said about why Viola accepted Dani's invitation- Dani and Viola are similar in some ways and this was something I was explaining to my niece when she watched it with me. I explained to her that both Viola and Dani are strong willed, and stubborn, and would do anything to fiercely protect the people they care about. We saw that time and time again with Dani, how within days of knowing Miles and Flora she was out with a fire poker trying to protect them from a strange man that she kept seeing around the manor. And how Viola would've done anything to protect her daughter. One major difference between them though is that Viola seemed to have a slight selfish streak where as Dani is entirely selfless, she was selfless for the longest time in even agreeing to marry Eddie so she wouldn't hurt him, she was selfless in protecting Miles and Flora, and even more selfless in saving Flora's life and freeing all the trapped spirits of Bly Manor and then she is selfless in the fact that she won't drag anyone down and won't hurt anyone else at Bly ever again. The one thing she did for herself was being with Jamie- and she was able to make Jamie open up and trust people in way she probably hadn't for the longest time. Dani is a truly strong person as was Viola and I can see why she would accept Dani's invitation. I will have to listen to this song to see it from a Jamie perspective which I will definitely do tomorrow but from the lyrics you have sent me I can definitely see it being a love declaration to Dani from Jamie. Jamie knew in the end she would suffer because she knew she wouldn't be able to keep Dani forever, and knew that one day she would have to leave her- but she knew loving Dani for as long as she was allowed to would be worth that pain in the end and Jamie is a truly strong person as well for knowing this and staying by Dani's side anyway when that must have been such a hard thing for Jamie to ever have to accept. Jamie would've been anything for Dani and would've one anything for her as Dani would've for Jamie and that's why I love them so much. They loved each other so purely and without conditions and so wholeheartedly and it really was such a lovely thing to watch play out in front of us (even if it did hurt us all at the end). I think it would be so cool to see an AU like that I think medieval stuff is always so fun and so interesting and a good enemies to lovers start never fails either because there's so much tension there between them. And Jamie being undercover as someone to get close to Dani and them slowly falling in love with each other would just be a great thing to see!! And I am all for warrior Dani and Jamie (women with weapons is a little bit of a weakness of mine)!! This whole AU just sounds incredible I love a good curse in fantasy stories and the curse slowly taking over and you thinking they're going to run out of time but everything works out in the end!! Dani going back to her kingdom because of her sick Dad dying would be great for angst because it would look

like she would have to marry someone to create an alliance and that she would have to take over a kingdom (perhaps something she never wanted to do in the first place)!! I think this could be a very angsty one shot and could be so interesting and fun and the happy ending would definitely make all the angst worth it in the end!! I am having a good week so far thank you and I had so much fun with my niece today, making fudge went great and she was happy that I was able to show her how to do it because she'd never made it before so now that's something she knows how to do (I think she thinks I'm way cooler than I actually am haha thank you for saying you'd worship me though if you were my niece haha 😂) but tomorrow she is teaching me how to do something because I taught her how to make fudge today... she's gonna teach me how to draw in an anime style- which is something she is really into and even though I'm not she loves drawing so I've asked if she can teach me since I taught her something today!! There's no need to apologise I loved this long angst and I loved this idea I think it's really great and interesting and that song just seems amazing and I am definitely gonna listen to it tomorrow when I get chance!! Thank you for sharing this idea with me I loved it!! ☺️ Haha oki doki then as long as that's alright with you Libby is what I'll call you!! Like I said you can seriously call me anything!! ☺️

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leahxx129 · 4 years

Text

Heaven’s on Fire (Castiel x Reader)

This is my submission to the talented @lettersofwrittencollective ‘s 1K Celebration challenge. Congrats once more! :))

I had this idea in the back of my mind for quite a while now and her challenge came as a heavenly sign to write & publish it, so here we go. My prompt can be found in bold in the text. I hope you all enjoy it! :) Oh, and if you want to listen to the song mentioned in the fic, you can do that here.

Disclaimer: Tumblr is being weird again so if you’re using the app, the ‘Keep Reading’ cut off line may not be visible inspite of the fact that I always insert one.

Summary: You’ve successfully managed to get off the grid but thanks to your best friend, the one person you wish to see the least finds you and reveals a surprising truth. Will it be enough to bury the hatchet though?

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex

Word count: 2.790-ish

You are tapping your fingertips against your glass as you watch the ice cubes slowly melt and dissolve in the bourbon. Is this your second? Or third? You have no idea. And frankly, you don’t even give a damn.

This Friday night is just like any other in the past year – you find a bar, have a few drinks… sometimes you leave alone, sometimes you don’t. It depends on your mood and on how attractive the person trying to get in your pants is. Truth be told though; you haven’t been so picky lately as you’ve realized that when you close your eyes, they all look just like him.

You’ve been here for about an hour now and only two candidates have summoned the courage to approach you but sadly, none of them measure up to your lowered standards. You roll your eyes in annoyance and down what’s left of your drink. Just as you’re about to get up and leave, another bourbon is placed on the small round table in front of you. Your look of disapproval soon turns into bewilderment as your eyes travel to the face of your server.

“Feathers?” you blurt out and despite your best efforts, the pet name sounds more like a question than a statement.

A faint smile is playing in the corner of his mouth.

“It’s been a while since I heard that one.”

Castiel sits down across you and takes a sip from the booze he got for himself. Hundreds of questions are racing through your mind and you’re having a hard time deciding which one to ask first.

“Which one of those asshats sold me out?” you eventually settle on one. Around the apocalypse situation back in 2010, the angel branded your ribs with the spell that keeps people off the celestial radar, too, so he couldn’t have found you all by himself.

“Assuming you are referring to the Winchesters, it was Sam.”

“Should’ve thought so…” you say dryly. “When I texted him my location, I thought I made it clear that I’m only available in case of emergencies. “

“I sort of tricked him into believing this was an emergency.” he admits, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“What do you want, Cas?”

“I wanted to see you, Y/N.” your name rolls off his tongue the softest way possible. “When I was sent back to Earth from the Empty, I was perplexed not to find you in the bunker.”

“Yeah, well, I needed some space and a breath of fresh air.”

“A thousand miles away from there? From me?” he adds the last part reluctantly.

“You do not have the right to guilt-trip me, okay? If anything, I should be doing that to you…”

He draws his eyebrows together in confusion.

“I do not understand.”

Of course he doesn’t... You try to blink them away but a couple of hot teardrops stream down your face, nevertheless. He instinctively grabs your hand you’ve been resting on the table and squeezes it.

“Please look at me.”

Every fiber in your body is protesting because once you look into those ocean eyes, he wins… but you comply anyway.

“Explain?” he murmurs.

You hear the appeal leave his lips but all you can concentrate on is the way his fingers are pressing yours. It conjures the memory of the very first time you held hands...

You finished applying lipstick and checked your complete makeup in the review mirror. A sophisticated trophy wife was staring back at you, which meant that you accomplished your goal. You silently thanked the Lord Sam and Dean weren’t with you because you would never hear the end of their mockery.

“Okay, I’m done. Tell me, Feathers, how do I look?” you turned to Castiel who’d been riding shotgun before you parked your dark blue 1970 Ford Fairlane in the church’s parking lot.

“Uhm, you look lovely, Y/N, although you do not quite resemble your everyday self.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“For the sake of this mission I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant to be one.”

You shrugged then proceeded to give him a once-over.

“Well, you look dashing as always, but I suggest losing the trench coat. It doesn’t suit the occasion and we certainly don’t want to raise Father Milton’s suspicion. If he senses something is off, he’ll never lead us to his angel-hearing daughter.”

He appeared torn for a minute.

“But my angel blade is in my trench coat. If I leave it in your car and things take a turn for the worse, what will I use for protection?”

You pulled your chiffon skirt up, revealing a .45 Hardballer attached to your thigh. His eyes followed your abrupt movement but as soon as he realized where his gaze landed, he looked away. If you weren’t imagining, he even blushed a little.

“As long as we’re dealing with humans, this shall do.” you pulled the skirt back down. “Now c’mon. We need to find this Anna girl before the demons do.”

You both got out of the car and walked to the church’s entrance but before you went in, you adjusted his tie.

“Okay, Castiel, remember… we are Mr. and Mrs. Novak, expecting our first child, and we are here to see the girl who hears the angels so she could bless our baby.”

“I still believe this is a ridiculous cover story.” he commented.

“They’re religious people, they’re gonna buy it, trust me.”

With that, you took his right hand and laced your fingers with his. He almost yanked his arm away - you could tell from the little twitch you felt – but stopped himself from doing so.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“We have to make our cover realistic and this is one way to do that. Relax a bit, would you? You’re stiffer than a stick…”

“What you’re saying is not humanly possible for my vessel, but I suppose I perceive the insinuation.”

You rolled your eyes at his awkwardness and pushed the church door wide open.

The memory makes you smile and when you look up to his face, you see him replicating your expression. He must’ve been reminiscing about the same thing.

You pull your hand from his grip and first you swallow your glass of bourbon, then his, too, not minding the puzzled look he gives you. You need all the liquid courage you can get.

“You want an explanation? Here you go!” you reply, feeling the warmth of alcohol spreading through your body. “I simply cannot be in your immediate proximity anymore, Cas, I just can’t! I have no idea when these feelings for you developed exactly, but they did. And every single time you sacrificed yourself for the greater good over the years, I died a little inside… which is crazy, because you’ve never seemed to be interested in me like that… So, when Lucifer killed you for the second time, that was the last straw. I couldn’t keep breaking my own heart for somebody who just sees me as a really close friend with occasional benefits. I had to get away in order to piece myself back together.”

He sighs your name passionately and the next second he leans over the table, gently captures your chin between his thumb and index finger and locks his lips with yours.

You’re not sure what amazes you more – the fact that he’s kissing you or the scene that starts outlining in your mind.

You remember the place that comes to life in your head. It’s the higher scale pub where you had your farewell drinks at with the Winchesters, Bobby and Cas the night before Sam let Lucifer wear him to the prom. Not counting the five of you and the bartender, the joint was empty - courtesy of the angel’s heavenly persuasion technique applied on the bouncer so he wouldn’t let anyone else in.

But something isn’t quite right…this is not your memory.

It’s Castiel’s, you realize.

Cas, Bobby and Dean were sitting around a table, the latter raising a hand to order another round of the most expensive scotch the place served. The world was ending, saving a few dollars on cheap drinks seemed utterly pointless. You and Sam were attempting to dance to an overrated pop song a few tables over, laughing whole-heartedly throughout the process. With a little liquor in his veins the man was a real talent on the dancefloor – or at least that’s what he thought.

“You do realize, Dean, that a few glasses of alcohol will not numb me to the point where I would forget what is ahead of us, right?” Cas inquired but before Dean had the opportunity to come up with a comeback, Bobby jumped in.

“They might not numb you but they’re sure as hell working for me!” he said as he took a sip from his newly arrived quality booze.

“All I’m missing is a hot babe on my laps...” Dean added “What do you guys say, shall we get ourselves some fun female company?”

“I do not know about Bobby, but it is a pass from my side.” Cas replied indifferently then averted the topic, asking what he’d been dying to know all night. “Why are Y/N and Sam dancing so close to each other? Their bodies are touching. Is there… is there something romantic between them?”

Dean and Bobby exchanged a curious glance.

“Cas… are you… jealous?” Dean chose his words carefully and asked in a tone only the three of them could hear.

“I don’t know, honestly. Emotions are a novelty to me.”

“Okay…how do you feel when you see them dancing that close?” Bobby tried approaching the topic differently and succeeded.

“I do not like it. I feel like it is wrong. I would like to be the one that close to her. But apparently, she is completely content with Sam’s proximity.”

“There’s nothing romantic between them, Cas.” Dean declared. “They used to date when they were high schoolers, but that’s it. They’re not an item anymore. So, go get your shot with her while you still can.” there was a short silence, but he continued “Man, my little brother must know something… I mean, staying friends after a breakup? I’m a ladies’ man and not even I can do that!”

“Enough of the bragging, idjit! Order another round instead, would ya? I’m still thirsty…” Bobby scoffed and downed the remainder of his drink.

The rest of the night went by fast. In the end, Bobby and Dean had to drag a very drunken Sam out of the bar as his own legs failed to support him. You returned from the restroom to find Castiel all alone.

“Hey, Feathers… were you waiting for me?” you asked with the sweetest smile he had ever seen and suddenly his heart began beating faster.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I was. I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Go on…”

Instead of phrasing his thoughts, he just cupped your face and kissed you. After a short while you were the one to break the interaction and he instantly felt embarrassed, so he uttered the very first thing that came to his mind.

“Thank you, Y/N, for being such a great friend. I deeply appreciate it.”

“Uhm, you’re welcome, I guess…Is there anything else you wanted to share or…?”

“No, we can leave. The others are waiting outside.”

“Okay.”

He knew he screwed up. He had his chance and he totally blew it. But the worst part was that he had no idea how to make it right.

The flashback ends as Cas leans away and your eyes flutter open.

“You… you had a crush on me?”

“Ever since I met you, Y/N.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was convinced that a fierce, beautiful woman such as yourself could never accept a frail underdog such as myself to be by her side.”

His confession startles you immensely and you need a few seconds to collect your thoughts.

“You’re an idiot, Feathers.”

“So I’ve been told.”

You both chuckle and this time it’s your turn to kiss him.

“There’s so much we need to catch up on…” you whisper against his lips, but he frowns, making you regret your words immediately.

“Uhm, we can’t just yet… first, there’s something I need to take care of.”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

Funny how a four-letter word can hurt even more than any physical injury you have ever obtained during your career as a hunter.

“I see.”

“Y/N…“

“Don’t. Just leave, please.”

A flutter of wings indicates he complies with your wish. You call a taxi to take you to the motel you’re staying at as you’ve had enough to drink and don’t want to risk crashing the Fairlane. You are not in the mood for small talk, and sensing this, your driver turns up the volume on the radio. Heaven’s on Fire by KISS blasts through the speakers and it evokes the memory you associate with it.

Sometimes you just needed to take a break from hunting for the sake of your sanity and the estate in the Nebraskan countryside your grandma had willed you a couple of years prior proved to be an excellent safe haven. So consequently, when the Winchester found a very much so human Castiel, it wasn’t even a question where to hide him from the community of pissed off fallen angels.

On a particularly humid afternoon, you finished working on your car and took a quick shower to get rid of all the dirt and oil sticking to your skin. Having only a towel on, you proceeded to the kitchen with the intention of pouring yourself a glass of wine. Cas insisted on doing the grocery shopping, so you were all alone. Suddenly, Heaven’s on Fire by KISS started playing on the radio.

“God, I love this song!” you exclaimed and took a sip from your glass.

“I must say your taste in music is quite similar to Dean’s.” a voice spoke up behind you, making you jump.

You turned to see the ex-angel standing in the door with huge bags in his arms. He was back early.

“Jesus, Feathers, don’t sneak up on me like that! I almost threw my drink in your face and this shit is expensive! Every ounce of it should be treasured not wasted.” you scolded him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you it’s just… I just…” he was visibly struggling to express himself, but his gaze told you more than his words ever could as he slowly dragged it all over your body, examining every curve along the way.

“You’ve never seen a woman in a towel, have you?” you asked, not being able to suppress a smile.

“Only once in a movie about a pizza man.” he admitted shyly.

“A pizza man?” you furrowed your brows but soon enough you remembered the story about this. ”Oooh, I get it. In that case... put the groceries on the counter.”

He appeared a bit confused but did as instructed anyways. When he turned back to your direction, you undid the knot on your towel and let it pool around your legs.

“Now, I want you to show me what you learnt from that pizza man.”

“Are you okay, lady?” the driver asks, turning the volume down a bit and you realize you’ve been crying.

“Uhm, yes… I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” you reply while wiping your eyes.

You roll down the window and let the cool air dry your wet cheeks. This is the last time you allow yourself to be devoured by sorrow because of Castiel. Tomorrow you’ll retrieve the Fairlane and get gone, not leaving a trace you can be found upon.

Cas on the other hand goes back to Lebanon, Kansas, and roams the streets for hours. Eventually he stops in front of two liquor stores adjacent to each other. He wants to make up for all those years you two lost, he really does… but getting together with you would mean the world’s greatest happiness to him and that’s when the Shadow from the Empty would come and drag him back to the land of eternal slumber. He needs to find a way to defeat the Shadow first and then he’ll look for you. But until then there is one choice to make – which one of these liquor stores should he drink to numb the ache in his chest? Maybe both.

#lettersofwrittencollective1k #castiel #reader #castiel x reader #SPN #spnfic #fanfic #supernatural #challenge

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howfarethestars · 4 years

Text

all the worst we fear

rating: teen (for darker elements in later chapters)

warnings: none

summary: After Thor collapses on an alien planet, it becomes terrifyingly clear that his powers have become out of control. In a desperate attempt to save his life, he travels to the coven where his mother was raised.

“I’m leaving,” Thor said one night, resting the cool rim of his goblet against his bottom lip. He stared, eyes blank, at the stars beyond Heimdall’s observatory, wishing both that he never had to venture into them and that he was among them at the same time.

Heimdall did not react. Like all things, he’d seen this coming. He simply turned his head to Thor, his amber eyes glowing bright in the light of the realms, and asked, “Do you think you’re ready?”

Thor hated lying to Heimdall. He took a swig of his mead, hoping the liquid fire would dull his senses, make this less painful. He thought back on the training they’d done, the months he’d given up to control his powers. The way he had not controlled them and worried that he never would. “I do.”

Heimdall clapped him once on the back. “Then go you shall,” he said, smiling without it meeting his eyes. “Just promise me something, Thor.”

The taste of mead was bitter in Thor’s mouth. At least, Thor blamed it on the mead. “Of course, Heimdall. Anything.”

“Just stay safe.”

Thor felt himself smile. “I promise.”

Iron-colored rust coated Thor’s boots. Hot wind rustled his cloak, chapped his already reddened cheeks. Before him lay a vast, orange-tinted desert moon, and he stood above it all. Years ago the sight would’ve filled him with arrogance and pride. Having command over such a space would’ve sent a thrill through him. Now, though, it only brought him anxiety.

As he brought a canteen to his lips with a trembling hand, he stared down at the settlement below the plateau. It wasn’t much; a loose collection of tents and merchants’ booths huddled together on a dry, cracked lakebed. A circle of squat buildings with low ceilings and wide floors encased a crowded marketplace. Obgi, the lone merchant village on the entire moon, was a lawless place. Royals, whether they’d renounced their thrones or not, were certainly not welcome. So, Thor came in disguise. A ragged cloak rested on his shoulders, and underneath it, he wore the loose fitting slacks and boots that barely reached his calves.

Obgi, violent as it was, was mild compared to the lands Thor had been traveling for the past few months. In his search for the infinity stones, Thor had traversed the most dangerous lands, nearly been killed in every dark corner of the nine realms and beyond. All for six little stones that were too powerful for this universe to contain.

Thor could relate to the objects of his pursuits in that way. He, too, was a vessel for a power too great to be confined. His hands still shook with it. Flashes of terrible futures blurred his vision. His nights were plagued by nightmares; whether they were his imagination or his abilities he did not know. Heimdall and he had been training, but it barely made a dent in the amount of power coursing through Thor’s veins. Their methods were a cracked dam, and Thor shuddered to think what would happen if the water breached.

“See where your power leads?” Heimdall’s strange clone hissed in Thor’s ear, reminding him of what the witch’s visions warned of. The Avengers had come to the conclusion that her visions were only reflections of their worst fears, not true scenes of their futures. But Thor had seen flashes of destruction, of flames and molten rock turning his beloved Asgard to dust. The fear of apocalypse haunted him, hung on his soul like chains.

Thor shook his head. The market was growing closer on the horizon. He couldn’t seem troubled, or else the merchants—or worse, the thieves—would take notice. In his searching, he’d come only to find the location of the power stone. Of course, the mind stone was on Earth. The reality and space stones on Knowhere. Time and soul were all that were left. They had to be found, and put somewhere safe. Thor didn’t know if he’d be able to rest if they weren’t.

The marketplace was bustling like a hive of angry wasps. Thor steeled himself, then entered the crowd. Conversations overlapped around him, and he listened for any whispers of infinity stones, mad titans, or gems of unimaginable power. As his shoulders brushed the shoulders of other interested buyers, he let his hand rest on the satchel at his side. In the bag, he carried the knowledge he’d gathered about the infinity stones and the Titan that was looking for them, Mjolnir, disguised as a spyglass, and the journals and ancient writings he and Heimdall had worked with to help him control his seer abilities.

“Zarg nuts here!” a deep, grizzled voice shouted right at Thor’s ears.

He jumped, eyes blown wide. In listening for whispers of the stones, he’d forgotten to pay attention to his immediate surroundings. He shook his head, both to clear it and to refuse the zarg nuts. Dragging a hand over his face, he groaned. The crowds grew thicker still as he pushed his way through. It was difficult to hear his own thoughts, let alone whispers of powerful stones.

“Many…searched far...for these stones...”

Thor stopped in his tracks, so quickly he might’ve kicked up dust on the ground. People forced their way past him, banging into his shoulders or his knees, depending on their height. Head tilted, he turned his head in the direction the sound had come from.

“I have here a map. It will show you their locations…”

Thor wheeled around on his toes. The crowd approached still, not slowing up in the slightest. Getting through a swimming pool filled with cold molasses might’ve been easier than reaching the small, slightly run-down booth a few feet away from the crowd. He stopped just in front of the counter, breathing heavy. It took a few spare seconds to compose himself; he stayed dizzy longer, the warm yellows and oranges of the desert took longer to refocus. The merchant was dealing with another customer, which gave Thor a bit of time to size up the situation. The booth was indeed small, but there were piles of maps behind it, enough to keep an adventurer happy for a lifetime. A smile swept across Thor’s face, but he wiped it away quickly. He had to be careful not to look so eager. The price would skyrocket if Thor appeared half as desperate as he was.

Thor approached with slow, sure steps, hands clasped behind his back. “What are you selling here?”

The merchant turned their eyes to Thor, gave him a once-over, and smirked. “All manner of things,” they said, voice like gravel. They swept a webbed hand back, brandishing their wide collection of maps. “What are you looking for?”

Thor glanced at the other customer, who took the hint and stepped away. “Infinity stones.”

Chuckling, the merchant stepped back. They whistled a foreign tune as they searched through the piles of both aged and new rolls of parchment, cloth, and paper. Finally, they pulled a pristine roll of thick paper from the stack. Turning back, they unfurled it on the counter. The map was beautiful. The infinity stones almost glowed. They were painted nicely, the colors not as faded by time as the other maps Thor had come across. Sadly, Thor was not evaluating the map for beauty, he needed it for legitimacy. In his search for the infinity stones, he’d come across countless false maps. This one was promising, though. It had the locations of the mind, space, reality, and power stones correct. It claimed the time stone was on Earth—a fact Thor highly doubted. The soul stone’s location was listed simply as unknown. Thor slid it back to the merchant and shook his head. That map didn’t show him anything he didn’t already know.

The blistering heat of the desert vanished in a split second, and a desolate chill set into the air. Thor felt the color drain from his cheeks. He almost cursed. Now was not the time to have an episode. His hands fumbled for the satchel at his side.

“Sir?” the merchant asked, probably for a second or third time, “Do you want the map or not?”

“No, I’m sorry. I need to leave,” Thor said with urgency. The map had been banished from his mind. What he needed now was to get away from the crowd of ruthless scavengers that would no doubt steal his kidneys if he fell unconscious here.

The merchant huffed. “If you don’t want it, get out.”

Thor nodded, and stumbled away from the booth. He glanced back towards the plateau. There. He could call the bifrost, go home. He’d lied to himself long enough. His powers were never under control. Now he fumbled through his bag as he forced his way through the congealing crowd. His vision blurred, refocused. The toe of his boot caught a stray rock, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground below. He regained his footing, just as a short creature slammed into him. Fire flashed across his vision, burning in the eyes of demons who wished his death. Thor sucked in a sharp, deep breath. The desert bled into darkness, spots danced across the garnet sky.

Terror pierced his belly. He glanced longingly at the plateau, but it was no use. He could never make it that far. There was only one option.

He clenched his fist at his side, and thunder cracked across the air, loud enough to turn the marketplace silent. Thousands of eyes turned sharply to face Thor, pale and shaking in the center of the walkway. The crowd split away from him.

“Everyone back up,” he commanded with as much authority as he could muster. Thankfully, they listened. He looked up to the sky, where dark storm clouds were gathering above him. “Heimdall, I need you.”

A kaleidoscope of colors exploded from the sky, wrapping Thor in the warmth of the bifrost. Thor sighed in relief; his eyes slipped shut. As soon as the colors bled into the gold of the observatory, his knees gave out beneath him, and he sprawled out on the floor. Mjolnir slipped out of his hand, but Thor could feel her lightning against his palm, trying to heal whatever was so wrong with him.

Heimdall dropped to his knees in front of Thor, his golden eyes swimming with concern. Thor couldn’t muster the strength to assuage him.

“Something’s wrong,” he whispered, just as the flames took his vision over and the demons closed in.

———————————————————————————————

Once when Thor was young, he and Loki had ventured out into Asgard’s towering forests in search of Bilgsnipe or trolls or some other creature of the sort. Odin had told them not to go past the east river, but being the stubborn boys they were, they refused to listen. Bilgsnipe paid no mind to the king’s decrees, so neither would Thor and Loki. Unbeknownst to the princes, Odin has reason for forbidding them from going past the east river. The earth was uneven, full of crevices hidden by overgrowth. Worthy of extreme caution for grown men, life-threatening for small boys.

Thankfully, Heimdall had been watching. When Thor inevitably fell into one of the shallow faults, Heimdall was there before Loki had made it halfway back to the palace to get help. Heimdall didn’t remember much—of all Thor’s childhood injuries, this one had been fairly mild. Still, he had needed patching up and bedrest. The thing Heimdall remembered most, however, was Thor’s terrified plea that no one would tell Odin what happened. Even with a fractured arm and scratches all over, his only concern was for no one to tell Odin.

All Heimdall could think of as he sat by Thor’s bedside, watching him toss and turn in fitful sleep, was that day. It had been a few hours since he’d brought him inside. Thor hadn’t woken, and save for a bit of mumbled nonsense, he hadn’t stirred.

Heimdall pressed the back of his hand against Thor’s forehead. Still hot and dry from fever. He took a deep breath. as his chest tightened. Internally, he weighed his options. The logical thing would be to go to Odin. With his age and experience, he would surely know what to do to help his son. But every time Heimdall stood to summon the king, he remembered Thor’s fearful begging.

The other logical option—which was taking Thor to Vanaheim, where his mother had learned her craft—would be difficult without alerting Odin.

Thor cried out, pulling Heimdall’s attention forcefully back to the situation at hand. A sheen of sweat was starting to form on his cherry red skin. He murmured something about demons.

With a heavy sigh, Heimdall finally made his decision.

The walk to Odin’s study was a long one; the king’s suite was separated from the main parts of the palace. Much to Heimdall’s distaste. Several times on his way over he considered turning around, marching right back to Thor’s side. But then he would remember Thor’s pained whimpers, and he found the strength to keep walking.

Heimdall studied the deep burgundy wood of Odin’s door for a beat too long, delaying the inevitable. His knuckles rapped against it, and the weight of his actions felt heavy on his shoulders.

The door swung open, and there Odin stood. It was strange to see him look unaffected. Thor was not okay, nothing was okay. Everything should’ve been halted, everyone should’ve been affected until this was fixed and Thor was safe.

But no, Odin greeted him amicably. “Hello, Heimdall. What brings you down from the observatory?”

The Midgardians had a saying, like ripping off a bandaid. It meant to do things quickly before you could focus on the pain or effects. So Heimdall did just that, “Thor is sick.”

Even with Allsight, Heimdall couldn’t read Odin’s expression. His brows furrowed, concern swam in his eyes, but he seemed to reject his own feelings. “What’s wrong?”

“I think,” he said, his voice beginning to waver, “I think you should come with me.”

———————————————————————————————

It took Heimdall the entire walk back to Thor’s room to find the words to explain what Odin was about to see. As they closed in on the distance between Odin’s study and Thor’s room, the words found Heimdall’s lips.

Before opening the door, Heimdall stopped. One hand rested on the door knob behind his back, the other found his pocket. Odin raised an eyebrow, but Heimdall spoke before he could object.

“Centuries ago you bound Thor’s seer abilities, and hid them away deep inside him,” he began, his heart hammering in his chest.

Odin’s reaction was a quick, almost imperceptible widening of the eye. Heimdall took a sharp intake of breath. Thor is sick, he reminded himself, Odin can help.

“Six months ago, those powers were unintentionally, violently awoken,” he continued, “Before today, I had reason to believe his powers were under control. Now, I believe otherwise.”

Odin was silent as stone and his expression was just as blank. He made eye contact with the door instead of Heimdall, and just when the silence had stretched into something worrisome, he spoke.

“Is he in there?”

Pretending to be unfazed by the odd question, Heimdall nodded. Together they entered Thor’s room, and the already tense air grew frigid at the sight of Thor thrashing on the bed. Sparks of lighting flew from his fingertips and danced across his arms as he cried out against unknown terrors.

Any thought of danger to personal safety was long lost as both Heimdall and Odin rushed to Thor’s side.

“How long has he been like this?” Odin asked in a hollow voice as he placed his weathered hands over Thor’s still-sparking fingers. His remaining eye shone with tears as he looked at his son.

Heimdall couldn’t help but find this reaction puzzling. For hours he’d paced and worried and wondered how this would go. Odin’s reaction was the opposite of what he’d expected. Not that it wasn’t a pleasant surprise. Genuine concern for his children had never been Odin’s strong suit and to see it...well, it was strange is all.

“He arrived through the bifrost hours ago,” he confessed. Odin turned, an eyebrow raised in suspicion, but Heimdall continued. “I must admit I struggled with the decision to tell you about all this. Thor didn’t want you to know.”

This didn’t faze him either, not as much as Heimdall had expected, at least. There was only a slight tense in his shoulders, and an even more puzzling question.

“Is the door closed?”

Heimdall glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, my king.”

“I, too, have been keeping a secret from you, Heimdall.”

The old king stood from his chair and walked aimlessly towards the middle of Thor’s bedroom. Heimdall twisted at an awkward angle in order to see him properly.

“Before I reveal this to you,” Odin said, I need you to promise me something.”

Heimdall nodded once. He had never been loyal to a fault, but he would never disobey Odin’s direct request. “Anything.”

“Don’t freak out.”

Before Heimdall could even begin to comprehend the meaning of that blunt and cryptic command, a wavering line of thin green light started to glow at the top of Odin’s head. The magic made its descent, and as it did slowly transformed Odin into…

“Loki,” Heimdall growled

Loki had the good sense to keep his mouth shut for once, but the silence only enraged Heimdall further. He stood and drew his sword in one swift motion. Walking foot over foot, Heimdall tilted the blade towards Loki’s neck.

“Murderer,” he said, voice low and head reared back in a fighting stance, “What did you do to Odin?”

“Now, let’s keep a cool head, shall we?” Loki asked. He took a shaky step backwards, hands raised in a show of innocence. “Heimdall, remember your promise.”

“My promises mean nothing to a murderous traitor,” he spat. His steps had led him so close to Loki that he could see his nostrils flare in fear when Heimdall pressed the tip of his sword against his neck. “Is he dead?”

“No,” Loki said in a voice two octaves too high, and the sword was removed from his throat. “Odin is safe on Midgard. I didn’t hurt him. I only erased his memories of his life on Asgard.”

“Usurping the throne is no lesser crime than murdering—“

“No!” Thor cried, and suddenly Heimdall couldn’t care less about Loki’s transgressions.

His sword returned to his side as he ran to Thor with Loki right behind him. Soon they stood side by side, casting two long shadows over Thor. Fat tears cascaded down Thor’s face. His chest rose and fell in shallow and forced breaths.

“Heimdall,” Loki whispered as though the very act of speaking brought him immense pain. Their heads turned in tandem, and when Heimdall locked eyes with Loki, he saw tears shining there. “He’s dying. Can you not feel it?”

The words were not sharp or piercing. They were a dull force, a devastating blow to his entire body. A chill swept across his skin and burrowed itself under the surface, too. His hand tightened on his sword instinctively, as if he could fight off what was coming with a blade.

Loki only sighed. He must have taken Heimdall’s silence as an indication that he should keep talking. “When I touched him earlier, I could feel it. The power within him, it’s too strong. He let it get out of control. It’s destroying him from the inside out.”

Heimdall swallowed to keep from crying. He could break down and lament the unfairness of it all later, but none of that would help Thor.

“We need to take him to Vanaheim,” Heimdall said. He coughed once, hoping Loki wouldn’t notice the strain in his voice. “I know a witch there, a friend of your mother’s, and a close...a close friend of mine. They can rid him of this cursed power.”

Loki nodded. “We’ll go, then.”

Narrowing his eyes, Heimdall wondered if Loki only wanted to come so that he could delay any punishment for his actions. But when Thor let out a heartbreaking whimper, Heimdall realized he didn’t care.

“Can you wake him?”

“Aye.”

“Will you...hide until I can break the news to him? It will be a lot to take in.”

Loki nodded. “I’ll cloak myself when I’ve woken him.”

A beat passed. Loki met Heimdall’s eyes, soft and concerned. “For his sake, would you like me to stay in Odin’s form?”

There was a genuine kindness in the question. Heimdall paused; it was a valid question. He glanced back at Thor, who was still covered in lightning and crying. His heart broke at the sight. With a sigh, he turned to Loki.

“Stay as you are,” he said, “He deserves to know the truth.”

Loki just nodded. “He might wake violently, so stand back. I’ll cloak myself and wait until you’re ready to tell him.”

Heimdall obeyed. Loki’s hands glowed from the inside, turning them a greenish-yellow. A crease formed in his brow as he placed his palms against Thor’s cheeks. Thor instantly stilled.

Heimdall was almost loathe to wake him, if he were going to look so peaceful the moment Loki took his hands away.

But he would not, and that threat on Thor’s life hung heavy above their heads.

Loki faded from solid form, leaving Heimdall seemingly alone with Thor. His thoughts wandered away from the moment at hand; Thor looked so much like a child. If Heimdall didn’t know better, he could’ve been asleep in his arms after his fall all those years ago...

With a sharp gasp, Thor returned to them.

———————————————————————————————

Fire demons, their glowing orange fingers reaching out to tear Thor to pieces. Fear clawed at his throat as the claws closed in. In the distance, Surtur chuckled at his demise, but he wouldn’t give up yet. He called upon his lightning, as desperation surged through—

Flames melted into golden sheets. In the haze of waking, he could not tell if this was the start of another vision or if the terrors were over. Even when Heimdall appeared in his line of sight, he couldn’t discern. Heimdall, or what he thought was Heimdall, pressed a hand against his face. His hands were cool, nothing like the intense burn of Muselpheim’s magma. His heart skipped a beat—was it over?

“Heimdall,” he whispered, desperately trying to find his voice. He reached up, arms and hands shaking, to touch Heimdall’s hands, to find an anchor in the storm. “Is this...is this real?”

Heimdall nodded. “It’s over,” he said, “You’re safe.”

Relief crashed over him. He let out a deep sigh and sunk into the bed underneath him. Home at last, safe with Heimdall. His vision had ended, he was free of the horrors lying within his mind, and he was safe.

And he would’ve smiled.

But Heimdall wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“What is it?” Thor asked. Thor barely recognized his own voice. He frowned; Heimdall wouldn't answer him. “Heimdall.”

Heimdall swallowed. “Would you like the good news or the bad news?”

Thor smiled at the common phrase. “You’ve been spending too much time watching Midgardians.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Midgardians,” Heimdall countered, the shadow of a laugh in his voice.

The moment died quickly, smothered by the tension in the air. Thor swallowed. Better now then later, he supposed.

“I’ll take the bad news first,” he said. He took a moment to push himself up on trembling arms. Stubborn as always, Thor didn’t ask for help when he struggled. Heimdall did anyway. Panting, Thor continued, “Just to get it over with.”

Heimdall nodded. “I was afraid you’d say that,” he muttered. When he took a breath, Thor knew it was bad. Heimdall was a stoic man; his words came smoothly. To see him struggle meant doom.

“Your life force is too weak to fight off your visions.”

Thor stared blankly up at Heimdall. The pieces wouldn’t click. Maybe his subconscious was protecting him from something he shouldn’t hear, maybe he wasn’t fully awake yet. He could only sit and stare and wish Heimdall would just explain it all.

Heimdall sat on the edge of the bed. His sturdy hands clasped Thor’s shoulders. “Thor,” he said, his voice growing thicker with every letter, “you’re dying.”

His chest went hollow, his body grew numb. All his pieces threatened to come crumbling inward, as if he was made of glass. He searched for something to say, something to ask that would make sense of what Heimdall had just said. But nothing came to mind. Nothing but those two words, you’re dying.

Heimdall’s hand moved from Thor’s shoulders to his neck. Tears blurred his vision again at the intimate gesture. “We’re going to figure it out, though. We have a plan.”

Thor sniffed, forcing back a sob. In the struggle, he locked on a distraction. “Wait, who’s we?”

Heimdall’s face twisted, tongue in his cheek but eyes squinted, a mix of annoyance and happiness. It was a look that Thor remembered well—it was the face he reserved for Loki.

Heimdall turned away from Thor to stare at what he thought was the wall. “You can come out now.”

Thor was reminded of watching the Chitari leviathans fall out of the sky; the screech of metal and groan of gears, the crash and smoke that filled the air when it landed on the ground. Thor was that leviathan, tumbling to the ground after his supports had failed and the earth beneath him crumbled away.

Loki was there. Shimmering in golden light, smirking and stepping closer to him, and he was there. Alive. Not grey and ashen and cold in his arms in the barren wastelands of Svartalfheim.

Thor wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or scream.

Like the imp he was, Loki held his hands out by his side and shook his fingers. “Surprise,” he sang, looking not nearly cheerful enough for the inflection of his words.

Against his better judgement, Thor stood on shaky legs. Heimdall’s objections fell on deaf ears as Thor marched towards his brother. Loki had the decency to look afraid.

Thor really couldn’t place his own emotions or desires. Anger or happiness? Punch Loki in the face or hug him? He raised his fist without emotion behind the action, then wrapped his arms around Loki’s shoulders as anger coursed through him.

Loki hugged him back, albeit awkwardly. The embrace lasted a beat longer, then Thor pulled away with his hands still on Loki’s shoulders. To remind him that Loki was still there, or to keep him standing up right, no one knew. Not even Thor.

“How is it possible?” he whispered, “I watched you die. You died, Loki.”

Loki hung his head, a black curl fell against his forehead. “It’s a long story…”

Thor felt anger bubble up again. “A long story? You let me believe you were dead. I watched you die in my arms, Loki!”

Thor cursed inwardly at the crack in his voice, the tears in his eyes. He hugged Loki again; he couldn’t help it. “Don’t ever do that again. Please, I don’t think I can take it.”

With a defeated sigh, Loki hugged him back. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically genuine. “If you don’t die, then neither will I.”

Thor felt himself smile. “I can do that.”

They pulled away, and Thor turned to Heimdall. “You said you had a plan?”

“We do,” he said with a nod, “We’re going to Vanaheim.”

The realm of magic, of course. The thought comforted him. The witches there had been studying and practicing magic for centuries; if anyone could help him, it would be them. Still, something weighed heavy on his mind. The elders of Vanaheim could likely help him, but fate had been less than kind as of late. If this were to be his last journey, then his loved ones deserved to know that.

Loki nodded sagely. “They’ll be able to get rid of your powers, I’m sure.”

Thor flinched as if Loki had struck him. His core ached at the thought. “Get rid of my powers?”

“Well, yes,” Loki said with a flippant shake of his head. He gave Thor a strange look. “Why would you keep them? They’re killing you.”

Although Thor couldn’t fault his logic, he still couldn’t imagine giving up his powers. It was all he had left of Frigga, his last connection to her. How could he ever give that up?

“I...I could use them,” Thor managed, and his words were not quite a lie, “To protect Asgard. Just as mother did.”

Both Loki and Heimdall were tense, but after they shared a brief, exasperated look, Heimdall nodded.

“Very well. You will train, then.”

The tightness in Thor’s chest lessened, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I must go to Earth first,” he said, “Jane, the Avengers; they deserve to know. Just in case I do not return.”

Loki rolled his eyes at the thought, but didn’t object.

———————————————————————————————

It was not hard to tell the Avengers. They were warriors themselves, well accustomed to loss. They’d taken the news well, actually. As well as could be expected. Tony cracked jokes, of course, but with a soft look in his dark eyes that spoke more volumes than words. Steve was heartfelt, inspirational. The captain was all tight shoulder squeezes and quick hugs; his physicality portrayed his emotions best. Clint knew well the uncertainty of a diagnosis, and his empathy was felt in his lingering hug. Natasha was quiet, actually. She did not speak until she hugged him goodbye, and even then it was a fierce, whispered уцелеть. “Survive.”

All the whispered assurances in the world could not have given him enough strength to tell Jane. Truly, he did not worry for how she would take the news; she was strong, resilient. But, to tell her meant that this was all real. No matter how desperately he wished it to be a dream, it was real.

He pondered this all while standing in front of her door. Well, “ponder” was one word for it. Really, he was stalling.

Her door was green. Faded. Chipping paint along the edges. Just go in, Thor. The doorknob was brass, but use had worn it down to a dull grey. Her apartment number was crooked slightly, hanging slanted on its nail.

Stalling, stalling.

With a deep sigh, Thor raised his hand and knocked. His stomach was in knots. A cold sweat had started dripping down his forehead. The fear of throwing up was now beginning to replace the fear of Jane opening the door.

There she was.

“Thor?” she gasped, her mouth falling open. She rushed into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Thor gave himself a moment. To breathe, to pretend he was here to visit and nothing more. To remember the way she felt in his arms in case this was the last time she’d be there.

But her question remained unanswered.

“I have something to tell you.”

They moved out of the hallway, then, and onto the balcony. It was spring on Earth. A bright blue sky streaked with thin, icy clouds hung over them. Thor and Jane stood side by side, leaning against the brick railing of her patio, neither speaking. Birdsong filled the silence between them.

“You have to start coming to visit when there’s no catastrophes to deal with,” Jane joked, just to break the silence.

Thor shook his head with a rueful smile. “You’re right.”

Jane hummed a laugh, but the humor was missing. She tilted her head, then, and her voice was serious when she spoke. “Thor, what’s this all about?”

“I’m afraid to say it.”

Jane reached out and took his hand in hers, so patient, so kind. “Then I guess I’ll just wait until you’re not.”

Thor took a shaky breath, and leaned his head against her shoulder. She rested her cheek against his hair. Even in so peaceful a moment, he could feel the visions whispering in the back of his mind. He saw Jane with tears in her eyes, her face obscured by a silver helmet, but just before he lost himself in the vision, she squeezed his hand and pulled him back.

Deep breath. He opened his mouth only to close it before even a syllable escaped. Deep breath again. Just get it out. “Jane, I’m dying.”

Her head shot up. She stumbled backwards, still holding his hand. Internally, Thor kicked himself. He should’ve been less blunt.

“You’re what?”

“It’s a lot to explain. We should sit.”

Jane scoffed. “Yeah, we should,” she said, moving towards the lawn chairs she had set out on the patio. Thor followed her, head down. “You can’t just drop a bombshell like that, Thor. Honestly. Don’t they teach, like, how to break bad news in Asgard?”

Thor’s eyebrows pinched. “Do they teach that on Earth?”

As Jane plopped into her seat, she groaned. “What do you mean ‘you’re dying’?” she asked, completely ignoring his little quip. Thor sank into the chair across from her. “Are you sick?”

“You could say that,” he said. His hands found each other, and one began to massage the other. “If you want the entirety of it, I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

“I always want the entirety.”

“Of course,” Thor laughed. He leaned back in his chair. “Have I told you that my mother was a seer?”

Jane nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, it seems as though her powers are genetic. When I was very young, she sensed that I had those powers, as well. But, my father-“ Thor’s voice cracked in anger and grief. The next words were hard to get through. “My father was not happy about it, so he...he bound my abilities. And for, well, the rest of my life I was blissfully unaware of them. But, they grew more powerful everyday. And more wild, unkept.

“Remember Strucker’s lab? The girl we found there? Her magic showed me my worst fears, but in her vision...something broke loose in me. Her power unbound the spell Odin cast on me. For weeks, I was plagued with visions of the future. Heimdall helped me control them for a while, but...I was foolish. I lied to him. I told him I was better, that I could control it.”

“But you couldn’t,” Jane finished in a whisper when tears began to slip down Thor’s cheeks in place of the words he couldn’t get out.

Thor shook his head. “No, and now I can’t stop them from coming. And I can’t break free of them. And we worry...we worry that with every new vision, it will be too much for me.”

With everything out in the air, Thor’s shoulders fell. A single drop of rain landed on the ground in between them. Then another. And another. Until steady sheets of rain were pouring on London. Jane nor Thor moved an inch except to embrace as they grew more soaked by the minute.

Jane sighed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just...you needed to know. In case I didn’t make it,” he said. His fingers found her hair, twisted it idly into ringlets. “Heimdall would’ve been better at breaking the news, though. He can be gentle when he needs to be.”

“I’m glad you told me.” She pulled away from him. Even though the rain obscured her vision, she stared into his eyes. “You aren’t going to die, though. I won’t let you.”

“We do have a plan to stop me from dying,” Thor said. The rain tapered off, then. The sun returned as did hope. “My mother’s—and my—powers come from Vanaheim. We’re going there. Hopefully they will be able to help.”

“Okay. Okay, good. Listen, as soon as you get better, you have to come tell me,” she said sternly, pressing her pointed finger into Thor’s chest. She held out her pinky. “You will get better, right? Promise me you’ll get better.”

Thor looped his little finger in hers, and whispered the words. “I promise.”

The sight of her smile was worth the lie.

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