#and desire throws down the gauntlet as they do best

[sseanettles]

nothing grows in corpses (in the earth of me)

dream x hob gadling | mature | Finally cross-posting my take on the fandom classic of the show progresses as the comics do, even to The Wake. Until Death resurrects Morpheus and forces the choice of "redemption" upon him instead of suicide. It goes...horribly. No good. Very bad. Instead of learning the lesson, Morpheus (in his infinite wisdom) opts instead for a highly effective existence strike until one day Hob Gadling stumbles upon his ghastly handiwork and immediately decides that this just won't do. Man Who Refuses To Die vs. Man Who Refuses To Live: fight.

Dead Dove, Do Not Eat for the following: graphic depictions of starvation, illness, suicidal ideation, self-harm, blood and gore, loss of autonomy, etc. etc. This is some classic old world whump, folks! But I promise it's also supremely healing in the end.

CH. 13: Elsa's song | 6 k | AO3 link | prev part | next part

(or: the one where recovery is not a linear beast.)

The next few weeks settled into a tenuous pattern. Constantine’s nurse kept up her end of the bargain, though not from any kind of free will as Hob quickly learned when he lingered around the corner after one of their weekly supply hand-offs, listening to the women as they bickered.

“You gettin’ cold feet on me now, Sandy?” Constantine pushed, backing the woman against the side of her battered car. “I think you’re forgettin’ how this works.”

“I’m not a fucking hospital, much less a pharmacy!” she pushed back, though her voice was far less fiery than the words it spoke. “I’m gonna lose my license, I—”

“Are you seriously complaining about malpractice? You?” Constantine demanded, almost outright laughing in her face. But when Sandy did not back down, feebly standing her ground, shaking head to toe all the while, Constantine nodded to herself. “Alright.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder down the road. “I’ll just set that demon loose in your new ward, then.”

Sandy paled to a sheet.

“Wait!” she cried and chased after the departing exorcist. “Wait, stop—”

“You summoned the damned thing, not me. It’s not my fault,” she said without breaking pace and rounded on the woman as she grabbed hold of her coat and tried to pull her to a stop. She seized her by the arm and slammed her back-first into the wall, looming in her face. “Fucking go on,” she goaded. “See if I care about a bunch of old fucks staring at the walls like vegetables until they finally kick it. It’s better than the kids you fed it last time.” A heavy silence mounted between them, a kettle on the verge of blowing. “Try me.”

And Hob watched from around the corner as Sandy’s defiance wilted and rotted away to dust.

“Are we good?” Sandy nodded, not meeting her eyes. “Same time next week, then. I’ll text you what they need.”

Hob watched Constantine go. She never once looked back, and she walked with the stride of one unburdened by any guilt for the things she said or did.

Once, he would have envied her. But now…now, he did his best to just fear her.

Bandages, IV fluids and lines, antibiotics, lighter pain medications than what Hob had tried before, physical and occupational therapy routines, and resistance bands…anything and everything they could think of Constantine via Sandy procured. Various YouTube channels run by various disciplines of healthcare providers filled in the rest, and Gwen and Hob quickly discovered that between the two of them, Morpheus participated a touch more readily in the more involved things like physical therapy with Gwen. At first, Hob’s pride had smarted, but on reflection, it made a certain kind of sense. Gwen did not know Morpheus, had never known him.

It was easier to struggle and fail with her. Easier to fall on his face, easier for his joints to buckle and his lungs to heave with the lightest of exertions as his stomach turned on him and his coughs lasted so long that he began to pass out from the lack of air. It was easier to be helped to the bathroom in the early days of recovery by one who had no frame of reference for who he had once been and who did not rub salt into his wounds with her presence alone.

And Gwen had returned home after that first week. She had just needed some time to process, according to her, had needed to map out a few ground rules in her head before moving forward. For one: no half-naked women, property damage, blood, or dead bodies in the house without warning. None of the above ever was preferred, but she had resigned herself to adjusting her expectations at least for the short-term future.

If she was going to come home to a shit show, she had the right to know about it ahead of time.

For another: no talking animals while she was in the flat. Her brain was this close to breaking already. If Matthew was around when she was, he had to confine himself to raven noises only, thank you very much.

While Morpheus had been visibly wounded to hear the bit about Matthew, he had begrudgingly accepted her terms. Not that he had really had much of a choice, but the semblance of one mattered all the same.

Hob had given her so many massages in those weeks, and he had a couple different spa packages in his back pocket for future heavy days. He wished there wouldn’t be anymore, that healing from this point on would only get easier. But he knew better.

Recovery was not a linear thing.

o\\__oOoOoOo__//o

The first major relapse came about three weeks in. Morpheus had never truly recovered any kind of appetite; he still picked at his food more than he ate it. He was only slightly better at keeping up with his fluids and still relied quite heavily on the IV to keep him adequately hydrated. While the antibiotics had gone a long way to resolving the pneumonia, he still grew short of breath at even the slightest exertion, and when he did choose to speak, his sentences were punctuated every four or so words by a heavy, recovering breath.

But the one thing he did keep up with, as best as he could with the way he was neglecting himself in every other category, was his mobility.

Range of motion, weight bearing exercises, resistance bands, slowly increasing the very brief distances he struggled through in Gadling’s flat—he chipped away at it all, kept at it until his strength resembled more that of a schoolchild and less that of toothpicks and wet paper.

Gwen was delighted; in her eyes, this was a step in the right direction, a sign that their strange guest had turned at least one corner and had committed to his recovery. It was a sign that he would maybe yet not be a permanent fixture in their home, whether she would admit it or not.

It puzzled Hob.

He knew his stranger to be many things: stubborn, principled, utterly bone-headed at times in his drive to prove that he and he alone was right.

The one thing he knew him to not be was receptive to the notion that he had perhaps been mistaken and over-reacted and that he should actually listen to the counsel of others.

That was downright laughable.

A man who had let himself waste away into a breathing corpse purely to make a point did not just wake up one day and decide to live. That did not happen. Anywhere. Hob couldn’t think of even a single fairytale or folk story that went that way. And yet here he was, standing at the kitchen island as he finished grading his last paper and watching nervously as his Stranger finally tired at the window, set aside his book, removed the blankets from his legs, and rose unsteadily to his feet. He crossed the room back to his bed in similar, slow fashion, bracing himself along every surface he could reach as he did and using the infusing IV pole as a crutch all the way. But he made it back, even lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed instead of getting partway down and collapsing the rest of the distance. His cheeks were flushed with the effort, his breaths heavy, and he looked to Hob as he pushed back his bangs that were just starting to reach his eyebrows once more. His nails were still fragile, but not as split and no longer infected, and the little scabs dotting his body had faded away to scars in most places and disappeared altogether in others.

“Satisfied?” Morpheus muttered in that backhanded manner of his, and Hob rolled his eyes as he fetched his friend his nightly cup of water. It was never touched when the morning came, but he liked to think he was laying the groundwork for a future habit.  

Harmless delusions like that were important to have.

“A grand marathon,” he threw back and set the glass on the coffee table beside him. “You need anything else?”

“No,” Morpheus shook his head. “I am…well, Gadling.” 

“I think well is overselling it a bit. You’re still breathing like a bad advertisement in a smoking kills campaign. Come on.”

Morpheus rolled his eyes but followed Gadling’s herding hands nonetheless to lay back in bed, drawing the blankets over himself with his own strength as had been increasingly common of late. A small smile pulled at Hob’s mouth as he watched him move, as he noted the already far decreased number of dressings taped about him and the shallower hollows within his cheeks and ribs.

Slow, but steady.

“Good to go?” he asked, reaching for the light switch as he headed for his own room, and Morpheus nodded his assent. “Goodnight, my friend. Sleep well.”

“Good…night.”

The room fell dark, and Hob hesitated for a moment amid the black, listening to his friend’s unsteady breaths as they gradually slowed before forcing himself to go to his own room.

For all intents and purposes, it had seemed a perfectly normal evening. Or at least, as close to their normal as their bizarre new lives could get.

So, when Hob awoke in a panic four hours later, at the blackest hour of the night, to the sound of some calamitous crash from beyond their bedroom and a harshly stifled scream of pain, it was the understatement of the century to say he had not been expecting it.

“What the fuck?!” Gwen yelped, scrambling for the lamp switch beside them, but Hob was already out of bed, sprinting for the living room.

“Stranger?!”

The bed was empty. The IV pump still stood beside it, still running happily away without a problem, but a small puddle of saline spread across the floor, seeping into the rug. Hob could see the pulled catheter at the center of it, tinged with blood, and he quickly scanned the rest of the flat, going to the kitchen and the knives first.

All there. Same with the hatchet and the fire pokers. The window was shut.

But the front door…

“Robbie!” Gwen was calling from the other room, stumbling from the bed herself, “what happened?!”

The front door was open.

“Fuck,” he hissed and ran for the landing.

Curled at the bottom of the stairs, wheezing and moaning in pain, laid Morpheus.

“Fuck,” Hob repeated, with greater feeling this time round, and ran down the stairs as quickly as he could manage in the dark, leaning into the banister all the way. “Stranger!”

Morpheus gritted his teeth against his burning tears and ground the heel of his one working hand into his eyes as he listened to Gadling hurrying to his side. It came away bloody, and he hid his battered face in the floor.

Useless. Weakling. You could not even manage to run away properly.

“Alright…you’re alright…”

I am not alright, you blundering fool! he wanted to snap as Gadling’s hands began their gentle assessment of his shivering body, starting with his head and spine. I am the furthest thing from alright. This is torture grander than the designs of hell, this is—

This was a refractured wrist, dislocated shoulder, a new laceration to his forehead and cheek where he had struck the edges of the steps, a bloody nose, several new bruises across his arms and legs and spine, at least one cracked rib, and a sizeable goose egg to the back of his head. Hob coaxed him onto his back, and his heart twisted at the way his friend threw his one good arm over his face, hiding from Hob’s eyes in the crook of his elbow as he fought to smother his shamed sobs.

“I’m going to have to reset the arm, my friend.”

Morpheus’ hand snapped from his head to Hob’s chest, scrabbling at his shirt, pleading.

“No—”

Hob caught his striking hand and forced him to still.

“It’s me or I call Constantine’s nurse.” He paused, holding Morpheus’ wide, fearful eyes. He seemed so much younger in the moonlight that spilled through the foyer window…so much paler. For a moment, the man beneath him seemed but a boy, and he thought of ebony black eyes and snow-white hair. “Which of us do you want?”

His answer came in closing eyes and a head turning away.

“I’ll be quick,” he promised.

From the landing upstairs, Gwen watched Robbie gently help Morpheus into a seat against the wall. He maneuvered his arm into position, and then there came a quick pull and a jerk followed by two nauseating pops as first the wrist and then the shoulder realigned. Morpheus cried out again through gritted teeth, and a new track of tears spilled down his cheeks.

“All done,” Hob soothed and ran his hand up and down Morpheus’ bruised side, trying to calm his hyperventilating breaths. “We’re all done.”

He tugged off his pullover and bound the garment around his friend’s chest, knotting and twisting the sleeves until he had fashioned a sturdy sling that kept the limb immobile and pressed close. And then, there was silence, punctuated only by Morpheus’ soft, shaking breaths and the quiet notes of pain that accompanied the end of each exhale. But by now, Hob knew better than to mistake this for the quiet of calm, of centering meditation. For the quiet of sanity. 

And when Morpheus made a sudden lurching bolt for the door, barely getting his legs under him, Hob was ready. He lunged after him and caught him around the middle before he could swan dive back into the tile.

“My friend, I am not here to keep you prisoner,” he protested and fought to wrangle the man back to the ground with him. “But you are not well!”

“I am well enough to walk—” Morpheus spat back, the words strung together in a rushing wheeze as he struggled to free himself. Hob dragged him back to the floor and pinned him in a seat against the wall with a single hand to his chest.

“You couldn’t even manage the stairs, you just fell your way down them!” he hissed in disbelief, shouting though his words were whispered still. “Where were you going? Where did you think—”

Morpheus shoved at him to no avail, and his eyes welled anew with frustrated, hateful tears as he shouted back his answer.

“Back to the alley!”

Hob went quiet. His hand slowly slipped from his friend’s chest as his own eyes began to glitter.

“I…I cannot be here,” Morpheus continued and tore at his clothes, his skin, at his lame arm with a mounting self-horror and hatred, and the tears slipped from his eyes in a steady, unnoticed stream. “This-this form, it is fragile, weak—this-this grotesque burden! It is despicable, I am desp—I cannot—”

Hob grabbed him mid-ramble and pulled him into a crushing embrace that stopped his thoughts mid-tailspin like a wall. And for a few heartbeats, they just sat there in silence, two grown men on a tiled floor bathed in moonlight at three in the godless morning.

“Let go,” Morpheus whispered.

“No.”

Morpheus tried to push at him, to wrench him away. A mouse would have had better luck moving a mountain.

“Let go of me, I command you—”

“Why?” Hob demanded as Morpheus continued to thrash against him, no care given now to his hyperventilating breaths or his new wounds as the blood spattered Hob’s shirt and smeared across his neck and jaw.

“No one touches me—” his Stranger snarled, desperate now, and Hob tightened his arms in a jostling wrench with one hand at the crown of his old friend’s head and the other wrapped about his back.

“I do!”

The ferocity in those two, snapped syllables knocked Morpheus back enough on his heels that Gadling forged ahead, his voice trembling but earnest and true.

“I carried you in my arms when you were more rot and death than life. I warmed your face against my throat. I bathed you. I tended your wounds. I fed you. I cleaned you.” He swallowed, took a few breaths, and pushed on. “I saw you at your absolute worst, and I loved you all the while.”

From the word loved on, even Morpheus went still.

“And yeah,” Hob wetly laughed and tucked his fingers into his friend’s hair, “you were grotesque. And you are a burden, let’s not pretend you aren’t. Especially because I know you put yourself in that alley.” Morpheus flinched. His hand curled into a trembling claw of a thing, shaking, as he tried not to touch anything, let alone Hob. “You dug that hole I found you in for yourself like there was oil or gold at the bottom and you only had a day to strike it. You are a self-destructive, cruel fuckin’ mess.”

Morpheus wanted to disappear. He wanted the earth to swallow him, wanted to be as good as dead beneath a blanket of snow and a frozen quilt, forgotten by the world.

“But we’re all burdens. That’s fucking life!” Hob snapped and shook him again, his voice nearing the breaking point. “And I am hugging you like if I let go the world’s gonna end because you are my friend, and I love you all the same.”

Morpheus’ eyes went wide, and he scarcely breathed. His hand slowly began to drift down.

“I loved you as a demon,” Hob continued when he was sure his words wouldn’t fray apart into croaking tears. “As a fae lord…as some inscrutable cosmic…thing. I loved you as a shroud.” The edge of Morpheus’ palm settled on Gadling’s hip, and the man sucked in a sharp, quaking breath as he pushed on. “I loved you as a pain in the arse who lives on my sofa. And I love you right now as the stuck-up, arrogant idiot who just threw himself headfirst down the stairs because how dare somebody see him as less than beautiful and perfect and untouchably all-powerful.”

And in the silence that followed Gadling’s mighty declaration, the kind of words that would have wreaked havoc on the Dreaming for an age and now echoed only in the foyer of a Richmond flat, Morpheus’ broken head sagged heavily upon his shoulder. His hand tipped to settle fully against Hob’s hip before slipping into a hesitant return embrace.

Surrender; at long last, surrender.

Hob’s shirt grew damp with blood and silent tears, and he blinked swiftly at the ceiling, fighting to keep himself together.

“I did not ask for this,” Morpheus gritted into him.

Hob closed his eyes as if struck, and before he could think better of it, he pressed a fleeting, comforting kiss to the man’s temple before pressing his head a bit more firmly to his Stranger’s. He ran his fingers a little deeper into his hair and closed his eyes with a heavy, heavy sigh as he felt Morpheus sag into him a little more at the tenderness.  

“I know,” he murmured and ran his other hand along the knobs of his aching spine. “But you’re here now. We both are. And we both have to make do with what we’ve been handed.”

After a while, Gadling began to pull away, and when it seemed Morpheus was going to let him go, he sat back on his heels and held his friend at arm’s length.

“Hey.” He ever so gently chucked his bruised chin, guiding him to meet his eyes. “You don’t ever have to pretend with me. If you really, truly want to go out that door, I won’t stop you.” God, but his eyes looked so tired…so worn through. “I mean, I will think you’re an idiot, and I will wait until you’re senseless on the ground again in whatever alley you pick next and then just bring you right back home to do this all over again,” he said as if it should be obvious, “but I won’t stop you. I’ll do this as many times as you need. I’ve got nothing but time.” He ran his hand up and down Morpheus’ good arm and tried to catch his eye again as, eventually, it slipped from his. “Can we go back upstairs, love?”

Morpheus shivered. There it was again.

Love.

He gave a weary nod, not quite meeting Gadling’s eye, and allowed the man to help him back to his feet. Hob pulled his friend’s good arm over his shoulders while his own slipped around that boney waist to help him on each wobbling step up the stairs.

When Hob looked up, Gwen was gone from the landing.

“Y’know,” he huffed as they made their slow ascent. “I was going to give you a hug back in 1889. When I said you were lonely.”

Morpheus swallowed and took a few breaths before answering.

“I suspected.”

There was a pause.

“Bit easier to run out of a pub than a flat, isn’t it?” The look Morpheus shot him from his bruise-swelling eyes could only be translated as oh fuck you, and Hob laughed, rubbing his thumb along his hip in comfort as they continued upward. “Come on, mate.”

When they reached home once more, Gwen was nowhere to be seen. The bed had been tidied and prepared once more for sleep, and the first aid kit had been laid out on the coffee table: a suture set, stack of gauze pads, roll of tape and tube of antibiotic ointment already set aside.

The door to their bedroom was closed once more, and once he’d gotten Morpheus squared away once more, settling him back in bed with his menagerie of wounds dressed anew and setting aside the now useless IV pole and pump, he retreated into the waiting, frosty dark. He changed his clothes in silence, and when he climbed into bed, he could tell plainly from the tension in Gwen’s weight upon her side of the mattress that she was wide awake.

“I’m really sorry, love,” he said after a time. “I know you have your big lecture tomorrow, and—”

Gwen rolled over.

“It’s fine.”

Hob turned after her.

“It’s not.” She said nothing, and her silence spoke volumes. Hob released a quiet sigh. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I love you.”

For a while, so long that Hob was sure she wasn’t going to say anything at all to him, Gwen was quiet.

“I know,” she finally whispered and pulled a second pillow over her silk-wrapped head. “Don’t forget to wake up early to clean up any blood he left on the stairs and in the foyer.”

Message received.

“…Yeah. Won’t forget.” Hob’s chest ached, and he turned away, adjusting his pillow at an angle so he could wrap his arms partially about it while still burying his head into its depths.

When sleep took him, he awoke in an idyllic field beneath a towering oak tree on a fine summer day. Morpheus laid beneath him, bloodied and broken, just as he laid in his living room now though without the care of stitches or slings, and he held Hob’s horrified eyes with a listless emptiness. The flowers wilted. The grasses died. And the ground turned to hard-packed permafrost that spread from his Stranger’s body like a mold, consuming him and all around them. Hob could only watch as the ice spread into his own flesh and bone where they touched and froze him into place like some sort of grotesque statue as he tried too late to pull away.

And once Morpheus’ chill robbed from him the last of his freedom, his Stranger’s hand slowly raised to his ice-carved features. His fingers brushed his cheeks like tiny daggers, caressing the line of his nose, his brows, following the path of his cheekbones to his jaw and finally his lips. Hob yearned to shudder but could not so much as blink or even breathe as his Stranger’s nails lengthened and their touch trailed down his neck, over his collarbones, to wait upon his chest.

Please, he wanted to beg— (please, yes? please, no?) Mercy.

And Hob howled in silence as Morpheus’s hand dug in, titanium fingers crushing his ribs, tearing through cartilage and flesh. He wanted at the least to close his eyes, to not see his own crimson spilling down Morpheus’ arm or the expression on his face as he dug. But he could not, and the icy grip pushed and groped ever further into him until it found what it sought.

It curled around his frantically beating heart…

His Stranger smiled that sly, mean smile of old.

���and then ripped.

Gadling could do nothing but stare with frozen eyes as his lifeblood poured in a crystallizing spatter atop his friend, and everywhere the scalding blood touched, Morpheus’ skin began to thaw. His dark head fell back in ecstasy, the color returning, the life glowing once more in his eyes as he clutched Hob’s still-beating heart in his hand.

Gadling felt himself grow colder. And colder. And colder….

And Morpheus moved, leaning up to him with a bloodstained mouth that pressed hungrily to his own, to his neck, and Dream’s voice of old purred against his ear like a starved cat presented with an endless feast.

“Thank you…” Those resonant tones amplified, and a voice Hob felt he should know yet could not recall having ever heard grinned in redoubled volume atop Morpheus’, “my love.”

The hands tore back into him, prying him apart to make a home, and Hob’s silence screamed and screamed.

Gwen dreamed of gardening. She tended the bountiful yard of a nice house back in North Carolina that she owned, where she was close to all her friends and family and never had to look at another talking animal or hear the title “of the Endless” ever again for the rest of her very long natural life.

In the living room, Morpheus watched the hearth’s embers dwindle to coal and did what he did most nights.

He lost himself in thought and bell jar silence and did not stray anywhere near the land of dreams. He released the effort it took to listen in this mortal plane, allowed the tightness in his neck to relax, and traded his tension headache for the dull constancy of a concussion and the throb of his pulse in his newly sutured forehead. His left eye was nearly bruised shut, and he adjusted the lay of the ice pack to the back of his head as he considered next steps.

His plan for a quick escape in the night had, obviously, failed, and at his current rate of recovery, it was a decreasingly viable plan overall. And in the light of Gadling’s rather melodramatic proclamation, it felt especially cruel to drag his weary body to the kitchen or the window and attempt to end things himself. His sister of course, would not come. But his demise would butt against her domain, would announce his commitment to his decision far more poignantly than any fragmented sentence he could gasp out, and that was his only intent.

But then, Gadling would have to clean up the results of his handiwork, or worse Guinevere. They would have to patch him together once more like that asinine children’s rhyme, knowing he would just do it again and again and again, and the cycle would continue. It was hardly kind or considerate, but then again, Morpheus had never pretended to be either.

…Perhaps he could hide a paring knife in the bathroom tonight. Then, at his next bath, he could take advantage of the privacy and the containment the tub provided and slit his wrists beneath the warm water. It would be easier for Gadling to clean. He would, ostensibly, just need to open the drain, douse the porcelain in bleach, and then—

“My, my,” someone crooned from the window bench. “I should call my dearest twin here for the mood in that mind.”

It was a subtle thing, the way Morpheus’ already flat expression turned to stone and his eyes to steel. But turn, they did, and when his battered skull pivoted upon his neck to glower at the entity that lounged in the moonlight—clad only in a long, flowing black robe of silk and lace and feather that spilled about their bared legs and down to the floor like ink—they only grinned back at him with a smile as sharp as knives.

“Hello, Morpheus,” Desire purred.

“What do you want?” he asked, and what had once been a disdainful demand in a life now passed was little more than a frightened whisper.

Desire laughed, cold and ringing and as playful as the bedroom, and laced their fingers together as they allowed their spine to bend, and they stretched their joined arms above their head toward the ground as they rolled languidly onto their back. The window seemed to grow with them, the bench transforming to a fainting couch and then a bed that they sprawled within. Their bare feet played at the glass, their toes painted red to match their lips, and left fogged footprints behind.

A throne for the reigning victor.

“What do you want is the better question,” they leered, upside-down, and rolled onto their stomach to rest their chin upon the cradle of their fingers. Their golden eyes gleamed like fire as they shifted from Morpheus’ carefully still frame to Hob’s bedroom door. Their grin widened from Cheshire cat to hungry wolf. “Or even better, what does he want.” They drew upright like a cobra, like a lion at the head of their pride, and pointed to Morpheus with a sharp-tipped finger in playful scold. “You hid him from me, brother, but no longer. Such delicious things are happening in that brain of his tonight and all of it mine.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Desire laughed at the piteous objection, and they swung their legs over the edge of the bed with a dancer’s brutal swiftness, sweeping to their feet. “That’s all you have to say to me?”

Desire was smaller than him. It was not by much, a couple inches perhaps, but for the entirety of their existences, they had always been forced to look slightly up at him. Here, now, they were the one who towered, and Morpheus could do little else but watch them come, their every move sultry and fluid and dangerous.

“No posturing?” they needled as they soon reached his bedside. “No threats of ending me or raining down ruin? Just one…” They mounted the bed and drew closer still, “pitiful…little…don’t?”

Morpheus struggled as far back as he could in his newly injured state, balking before Desire’s advances until he was pressed to the sofa’s back; his head turned away, and his eyes cast to the floor as he tried to calm. Desire loomed above him, straddling his legs, and leaned down as they peered at their fallen brother’s sad state. “Well,” they purred after a time, sneering. “I suppose that’s all you can manage right now, isn’t it? Tch…”

Morpheus jumped as Desire’s nails caressed their way up his throat to hook him by the underside of his jaw and drag his head to face them.

“Look at you,” they chided with a pouting frown that spread all too easily into another cruel smile. “The things you do to yourself.”

He swallowed and swore their nails drew blood. “Desire,” he hoarsely whispered, only just keeping himself from outright pleading, and they rolled their eyes with a groan.

They released their hold in a put-upon flick of their wrist and picked at his hair next as his head tipped with a pained wince.

“I’ll leave him be…” they sighed, and they waited until they saw the flash of relief in Morpheus’ swollen eyes before allowing another mischievous smirk to curl their painted lips. Their hand returned to his jaw in a clamping flash that dug their nails into his hollow cheeks and had him startling with a grunt of pain. “For now. But you’ll have to do something for me first.”

Morpheus thought of Desire’s talons sunk into Gadling’s mind and body, thought of the man’s gluttony at the mercy of their destructive cruelty, and set his jaw against Desire’s grip.

“Name it,” he growled, for a moment the Morpheus of old.

Desire’s smile turned victorious. They leaned close, holding him in place by the jaw as their lips neared his ear. Their breath was hot on his skin, their scent overwhelming, and Morpheus braced himself for their price as they whispered….

“Fucking…eat.”

His mind grated, ground, and utterly broke.

“What,” he said. The blindsided word hardly registered as a question, and Desire looked directly into his eyes, still holding him in that throttling grip.

“I am tired of your rotted bones haunting my halls like some kind of putrid ghost,” they snapped, and Morpheus could only stare in utter bewilderment. “Start eating. Start drinking. Start sleeping. Start fantasizing. I don’t care what order you do it in, but you better start doing it tonight, because if you don’t—”

Morpheus’ voice strengthened even as his ability to comprehend what was happening with this conversation unspooled like a runaway ball of yarn.

“What,” he repeated, and Desire swatted him upside the head.

“Hunger is just a facet of desire, you shit. All of this,” they gestured to his mess of a body, “is you being arrogant enough to think you can self-immolate your way back into our big sister’s good graces. But guess what, my lord? Death’s not listening. My twin has had her fill. You’ve been knocking about in the wrong kingdom, and I have had it. I—”

They caught themselves with a deep, composing breath, and when they resumed, it was at their usual cadence.

“Start eating. Start sleeping,” they ordered, and their tone, too, began to soften until it returned to their natural, predatory purr. “Or else…” Their eyes slid from their brother’s to something off to their right, and they turned his head with them to look to Gadling’s bedroom door. “…I make all your appetites uncontrollable.”

 …They wouldn’t.

“You’d just absolutely shatter loyal little Guinevere’s heart. Hell, maybe the rest of her, too,” Desire continued and bit by bit released their grip on Morpheus’ jaw as they watched him somehow pale further beneath the fresh bruises and wounds. “As you well know, you always get what you want when it comes to lust…or you destroy what stands in your way to get it.” Desire was no longer touching him, but still his head stayed turned, his eyes transfixed on the heavy door and the people who slumbered innocently on beyond it. “And Gadling…” They laughed and slipped from the bed to peruse the kitchen, lingering at the fruit bowl. “Oh, that one would bow for you so fast it embarrasses even me,” they leered and made their selection, “and we both know that you never leave much behind once you’ve satisfied the hunt.”

He thought of Gwen helping him down the hall to the bathroom and guiding him through therapy exercises. He thought of Gadling tending his wounds and studiously tracking each one’s healing. He thought of their endless patience and kindness, and Gadling’s kiss seared his temple in the cooling night, his arms firm about him as he relentlessly pursued his own destruction.

Desire wouldn’t, he begged.

But Desire would. He knew they would, and they would laugh the whole while, delighting in their destruction and cruelty as this flat tore itself apart. He turned from Gadling’s room and looked up at his sibling beside him as they returned, hiding something behind them all the way. And as they read in his eyes the resignation and hatred, they knew they had won.

They presented a banana from behind their back with the single most juvenile smirk on their face. After a moment, Morpheus snatched it from them, and their expression sobered to something that was almost grim approval as, glaring all the way, he ate the entire thing.

“About time.”

[pragerswoman]

There are not enough people who write for my baby Ja 😩

Could you write something where reader and Ja hate each others guts and are constantly bickering and competing with each other (like who's the better shot, who's a better marine a d who's better in hand to hand combat) but there is also a lot of ✨sexual tension✨ and one day during another of their arguments they just snap and finally give in and sleep together and the rest of the squad finds out and is just like THANK GOD!

A fight or love

Pairing: Ja x Y/n

Warnings: smut, fighting, NSFW, MDNI

A/n: hope you enjoy this I agree there's not enough about baby boy Ja he gives me sweet vibes ☺️

"You're such a show-off, Y/n!" Ja snarled, throwing down his combat knife with a clatter that echoed through the training room. The tension between them was as thick as the dust clouds kicked up by their sparring.

Y/n smirked, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. "You're just jealous you can't keep up," she shot back, not bothering to hide the challenge in her eyes. The rest of the squad, a motley crew of seasoned marines, had gathered around to watch the latest round of their never-ending rivalry. It was a dance they had all seen before: a tango of jibes and jabs that seemed to fuel their fiery spirits.

Ja's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching tight. "Prove it," he said through gritted teeth, picking his knife back up. "One-on-one, hand-to-hand, best of three. Winner gets bragging rights for the week." The bet was thrown down like a gauntlet, and the air grew electric with anticipation. The others knew better than to intervene; this was their ritual, their way of releasing the pressure that built up in the confines of their lives as soldiers.

Y/n's smirk grew into a full-blown grin, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "You're on," she said, cracking her knuckles. The squad parted to give them space, the room buzzing with whispers and bets placed under their breath. The two squared off, muscles taut and bodies poised like predators ready to pounce.

Their fists flew in a blur, each trying to land the first blow. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the grunts of effort, filled the air. They danced around each other, each step calculated and precise. The squad watched with bated breath, knowing that this match could go either way. The tension between them was palpable, not just from the competition, but from the simmering attraction that had been brewing for months.

The fight was brutal and intense, a culmination of all their pent-up frustration and desire. They grappled, rolled, and threw each other across the mat, neither gaining the upper hand for long. The sexual tension that had been a constant undercurrent in their interactions grew stronger with every blow and every block. It was as if the very act of fighting brought them closer together, igniting a fire within them that neither could ignore.

In a moment of pure instinct, their hands slipped from each other's arms to more sensitive areas, and the line between combat and passion blurred. They froze, eyes locked, panting heavily, their bodies entwined in a way that had nothing to do with the spar. The squad's cheers turned to shocked silence, their rivalry suddenly forgotten in the face of the raw emotion on display.

With a growl, Ja yanked y/n to her feet and they stumbled out of the training room, the echo of their heavy footsteps the only sound in the otherwise deserted corridor.

Ja's room was the first available, and he shoved her inside, slamming the door shut behind them. The room was as sparse as his emotions had been for months, but now it was filled with the heat of their desire. They tore at each other's clothes, buttons popping and fabric ripping in their haste to get skin on skin. Their breaths were ragged, their eyes never leaving each other's as they moved towards the narrow bunk that would serve as their battlefield of passion.

The sex was as intense as their fighting, a blur of grunts and gasps, hands and limbs entangled in a dance of need. They were rough and unyielding, each movement a declaration of dominance and lust. Sweat slicked their bodies, melding them together as they rolled across the bed, the springs protesting under their vigorous movements. The walls seemed to close in around them, trapping them in a vortex of passion that neither could resist.

Their kisses grew deeper, tongues clashing like swords in a desperate battle for control.

Y/n's nails dug into Ja's back, leaving trails of fire in their wake, while his hands roamed her body, claiming every inch as his own. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, the only sound in the room the wet smack of flesh on flesh. They were lost in each other, oblivious to the world outside the door.

But reality came crashing back as a series of knocks echoed through the metal walls. "Y/n? Ja? You two okay in there?" It was the voice of their squad leader, concern laced with a hint of amusement. They froze, the intensity of their passion giving way to a sudden awkwardness. Y/n's cheeks flushed scarlet, and she hastily reached for the nearest piece of clothing, the duvet on Ja's bed.

Ja rolled his eyes, chuckling darkly. "Yeah, we're fine," he called out, his voice gruff with exertion. He tossed the duvet over her, and she quickly covered herself, her eyes never leaving his. The knocking grew more insistent, the squad members' curiosity piqued by the sudden silence.

"Come on, you two," the squad leader said, the amusement clear in his voice. "You've got us worried out here."

With a final, lingering kiss, they broke apart, both trying to catch their breath. The room was a disaster, their uniforms scattered like confetti around the floor, but the sight of each other's flushed faces and heaving chests was all they could focus on. They shared a look that was a mix of satisfaction and disbelief before finally acknowledging the audience outside.

"Yeah, we're good," y/n managed to call out, her voice muffled by the duvet. She couldn't help but smirk at the sound of their squad mates' relieved laughter. The knocking grew louder, more insistent, and she knew they couldn't ignore it forever. She rolled out of bed, her muscles protesting with every movement, and stumbled over to the door, wrapping the duvet tightly around her.

Ja pulled on pants with lightning speed, his own chuckles dying down as he saw the state of the room. The squad was definitely going to have a field day with this. He moved to stand beside y/n, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

With a deep breath, y/n pulled open the door, the duvet clutched tightly around her. The squad was indeed gathered outside, their expressions a mix of shock, relief, and barely contained amusement. "What's the big deal?" she said, her voice a tad too high. "We were just... talking."

Ja emerged from the room, shirtless and rumpled, his pants hastily pulled on. He shot her a look that said 'we're so busted', but to their surprise, the squad didn't laugh or mock them. Instead, they nodded, smirks playing on their lips. "Finally," one of them murmured, and there was a collective sigh of relief. It was as if the pressure that had been building for months had been released in that single, explosive moment.

[lordofchickens]

Catching up on DnD, The Siege of Trife Parts 4-5

Continuing on from the Flame Ape and trying to save the rest of the town.

Before the Party is able to make their way to the bridge they're stopped by one of the guards nearby and told that the head of the defence wants to talk to them, they're then pointed in the direction of a large man in a full suit of bright, shining armor. He introduces himself as Gustler, highest Paladin in the Temple of Light, his bright yellow eyes and perfect smile the only features they can make out from under his helmet. A sudden tension pours out from Vahlok and the Paladin's smile disappears as their gazes meet, Gustler's gaze linger on him as he readdresses the Party, thanking them for helping to defend his precious city, as well as sharing some information with them about the attack. "It seems that we've had minimal casualties, as our foes are trying to kidnap people, rather than kill them outright. We've also had reports of an abnormally large golem that seems to be directing these....frea-" He stops himself, glancing around at the nearby S.C.U.D bodies, a displeased scowl on his face. "..these forces." Vahlok's hatred of authority get the better of him, he cuts off Gustler while the Paladin's trying to devise a plan for the Party to follow. "How do you feel knowing your God is dead? And that we're the ones that killed him?" Gustler's taken aback at this, mostly from confusion by such a scandalous claim, he sizes up Vahlok and suppresses a smirk. "You think my God is dead? You think anything could kill my God, let alone you?" He points into the sky behind him, towards the sunrise. "That alone is proof that my God is here with us." Trying not to let his anger get the best of himself, Gustler turns his attention to the rest of the party, his desire to organize a plan gone, he then sends them across the bridge with little more than a "Just do what you do."

At the other end of the canal bridge is a small gatehouse, in front of it is a guardsmen trying not to be pulled down into the water by an Octopus S.C.U.D, the Party watches on, their hairs standing on end as they're not able to get to him in time. However it's not the struggle in front of them making their hairs tingle, they look past the gatehouse they see a crackling energy in the hair. Suddenly, the guardsmen is struck by both a bolt of lighting and rubble from behind as a Ape S.C.U.D explodes through the gatehouse. This ape is not red like the first one instead a brilliant blue, with electricity arcing through its fur, on its hands are gauntlets of Starlight.

The Lightning Ape starts the fight by shooting bolts of lightning from its outstretched hands, jumping from one barbarian to another the bolts travel down the entire party. With Lizard and Owl S.C.U.Ds coming to reinforce Cronwer and Tortilla are forced to deal with them in close combat while the Barbarians deal with the Ape, each of its strike landing perfectly.

After dealing with the smaller enemies, and Cronwer manages to hypnotize the Lightning Ape, allowing his companions to throw it off the bridge into the water below. While the Lightning Ape struggles against the flow of water the Party notices a large fire in the ruined gatehouse as a second Ape lunges onto the bridge, it's fiery aura mixed with a cold frost emanating from a metal arm band on its right arm, withered and frostbitten it freezes everything it touches.

The FrostFlame Ape immediately sets its sights on Dave, smashing into his chest with it's giant fists but he's just barely able to withstand its blows. The Lightning Ape pulls itself out of the water while Vahlok retreats to cover Cronwer only to be caught in a huge plume of fire and ice from the FrostFlame Ape along with his fellow Barbarians. One by one our "heroes" succumb to the mixed elements of the two beasts, falling on to the flagged stones, but lucky for them, they're presence is graced by none other than the esteemed Cronwer Von Gikkingen the Third.

Cronwer speeds into action, casting Arshadalon's Stride and Steel Wind Strike, he dashes from foe to foe dispatching a few latecomers as well as finishing off the Lightning Ape. Next he channels his staff to reinvigorate his fallen comrade, allowing them to stand back up and finish the fight against the FrostFlame Ape. Vahlok takes a look at the fallen beasts corpse and decides to sever its arm so that he can take a look at the arm band, as he pulls it off it start to shrink to about the size of a ring, he decides to put it on and feels the metal cool his skin.

The Party decides to head back to camp, overestimating how long they could go without sleep. Echoing sounds of fighting and screaming deeper in the city preventing them from having pleasant dreams. Luckily with Gustler on watch the camp is safe from attack that night,

Rested and anxious to get back into the fray, the Party set across the bridge but to their surprise aren't met by much resistance. They walk through a few empty streets, bodies and debris scattered around, they investigate noises coming from a courtyard. Suddenly they're ambushed by a handful of Lizard S.C.U.Ds with rifles, as well as a fourth and final Ape, this one on fire like the first, but with heavy molten chains, shining a beautiful light blue as they wrap around its entire body.

As soon as combat starts the Party's pushed backwards, the Lizards taking pot shots at Tortilla and Cronwer while the Chain Ape delivers blow after harsh blow against the Barbarians. Working together the Rostam and Dave manage to hold down the Chain Ape, only for nearby chains to spring to life pulling them off before adding to the Ape's onslaught of attacks. Its chain like a terrible whirlwind as it relentlessly strikes the Party until Cronwer's able to hypnotize and entangle the Ape and Lizards. Just then, in the sudden quiet they can hear the thunderous footsteps of the Giant Golem that Gustler had warned them about. It rears around the corner, a marvel of experimental technology, an Iron Golem designed to be controlled by a creature sitting atop it. Its arms built to house state-of-the-art rotary guns, large crystals on its shoulders projecting a barrier and various other weaponry and gadgets hidden throughout its frame.

The Party quickly pulls back to the bridge where they run into Gustler, who's come to tell them that the Guardsmen have finally taken back the ballista towers, and can help with support fire. Dave is the last to fall back as he slashes away at two Gibbering S.C.U.Ds, he's the first to be barraged as a Goblin sits in the control pit of The Goblem, it shouts orders and what can only be assumed to be insults as other Engineering Goblins frantically try to catch up as gears and tubes on the Goblem spark and his.

The Goblem rushes forward, bashing at Dave and firing at Vahlok who's now climbed up on a roof. Vahlok notices the water in the canal below is suddenly speeding up. The Chain Ape follows the Goblem into action, having used its animated chains to pull it out of the roots Cronwer summoned, it leaps over the canal onto a building across from Vahlok, readying itself to savage the Wizard that tangled it.

Vahlok jumps off his building, using his chains to swing around a tree and onto the Chain Apes building, lashing it in the back and making it face him. Gustler, Rostam, and Dave have all worked together to disable to legs of the Goblem, allowing the ballista to consistently hit it. Rostam feels a sudden tug from the Totem of Protection he got from Yeln Island as the Goblem spins up its rotary guns, the tugging getting stronger and stronger until a Giant Turtle hurls itself out of the canal. The Great Turtle Jelva, God of Protection, slams directly into the center of the Goblem, smashing it into the water below to be carried off together as they continue to battle it out.

With just the Chain Ape left, Vahlok goes into a frenzy smashing and lashing the creature to death, losing himself in the gore he tears at its neck with his teeth and bellows to the sky. Gustler watches on with a mixture of hatred and disgust on his face, but before he can speak his mind on the subject a large tortle runs his way. The two seem to know each other, and the Party recognizes the tortle as Kostenurka, someone they made friends with outside of Quay, he profusely apologizes that he got to Trife so late, stating he doesn't move as fast as he'd like these days.

With their leader gone the remaining S.C.U.Ds in the city flee, and those that don't are easily dealt with by other less important people. The Party returns to the camp where citizens rush over to thank them, showering them in praise and a few prized possessions, however this wasn't enough for Vahlok and he starts questioning the citizens for information on Ger'esay's whereabouts.

A man in the crown hesitantly asks Vahlok why he wants to find Ger'esay, to which Vahlok tells him that his business is his and the man would fare better if he stayed out of it. The man realizes Vahlok intentions and decides to freely give up Ger'esay's location, unfortunately Vahlok thinks he's being lied to. He picks the man and threats him, telling him that if Ger'esay isn't where he says he is, the man better hope Vahlok doesn't come back. At this a guard comes over trying to settle things "Just because you've saved the city doesn't give you the right to shove around the citizens." Vahlok reminds him that he could've let the city burn.

Gustler walks up behind Vahlok and puts his hand on the Barbarian's shoulder, his firm grasp a burning, and violating presence to Vahlok. "You've been given your man, now leave." He says, waiting. Vahlok attempts to take a swing at him when suddenly all of his senses are smothered, he finds himself surrounded by shadowy versions of the citizens and Gustler, in a dark world where his eyes don't feel strained for the first time in his life. Vahlok disappears with a faint pop as the Paladin tightens his grip. The two closest, Rostam and Cronwer are immediately on guard, the Wizard recognizes the spell used and understand that Vahlok should be back in a few moments, but Rostam questions Gustler. "What the hell did you just do to him?" He shouts, raising his mace. In a sharp movement Gustler stares daggers at him before closing his eyes and centering himself. He states, calmly. "I've just sent him away to cool off, he'll be back in a moment. Somewhere around here." He starts to walk away. "Next time you're in my city, keep control of your monkey, or next time he won't come back." As the shadow that was Gustler walks away from Vahlok, it quickly distorts into a cloaked figure who walks towards him. It reaches out to caress his face, the feeling of the shadows fingers against him is cool and comforting, everything the Paladin's touch wasn't. The hooded shadow steps back, extending its hand for Vahlok to take, but as he reaches out he finds himself at the front gates of Trife. His mind swimming in a sea of tranquility, the first time he's ever felt calm, he decides to leave the city and search for Ger'esay without going back to the party first.

Cronwer counting the seconds until the spell ends, takes flight to search the city for Vahlok, watching as he wanders off towards the nearby mountains.

Small things I remember:

Outside of the game I told Vahlok's player that I wanted an NPC to use Banishment on him to foreshadow that he's connected to the Death Domain, so he tried to pick a fight with Gustler, there were two issues with that though. Firstly, I forgot! I wasn't expecting his player to remember us talking about that so I wasn't trying to set up the scene and I thought he was just being aggressive for no real reason. Secondly, Gustler's God isn't dead and the Party's never met it! I think Vahlok's player was confusing the God of Life, Kanezt, with Gustler's God of Light, Blesk (which hasn't been namedropped yet) and that added to my confusion. However, during the altercation after the siege was over, I ended up having to prompt his player into choosing violence as by that time he had forgotten and I now remembered.

By the time the FrostFlame Ape S.C.U.D showed up, the Barbarians had all used up their rages, and they almost all dropped to 0 the same turn their last rages ended. Dave being hit for roughly 80 damage on a critical. Made them all realize that they shouldn't rage so carelessly cause they won't always have time for a long rest.

Cronwer using Steel Wind Strike and Ashardalon's Stride in the same turn isn't technically allowed by spellcasting rules (nor would they interact as described), however I "Rule of Cool"-ed it since I know the player won't try and abuse me occasionally allowing casting Bonus Action spells alongside Leveled Spells.

[thebountyfucker]

The Game

18+ ONLY - NSFW

Afab!Reader x Embo, Afab!Reader x Bossk, Afab!Reader x Cad (Not gendered) Tags: Primal play (hunting), voyeurism/exhibitionism, unprotected sex, alien biology, cum eating, PiV sex, anal sex

Summary: Hunting makes a lizard's brain go brrrrrr. (Or, in other words, three hunters hunt you down. Their prize? You)

Here's the link to my masterpost. Want to be tagged in fics like this? Here's my taglist application!

“Ya get ten minutes. Make dem count.” Cad drawled as he glanced down at the chronometer on his wrist gauntlet. You glanced down at your own chronometer, your heart already racing; standing before you were three bounty hunters, each ready to prove their hunting skills in a test of chase. The prize? You. Whoever found you got first dibs on your cunt. Or whatever it was they desired to fuck. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, and you could hardly keep still.

Bossk and Embo had both been rather quiet this entire time - for Embo, this was par for the course. Bossk though… you wondered what was going on in that thick head of his. His nostrils kept flaring, as if trying to take in as much of your scent as possible, which… was likely. He was quite reliant on scent for these sorts of hunting games, which made it near impossible to hide. But that was the fun, you supposed.

The boys got to wander through the abandoned settlement briefly beforehand, getting acquainted with the terrain. Sometimes, they’d go in blind… but you all quickly realized that Cad was at a disadvantage. He was a great tracker, but his tech only went so far. You decided to give him a fighting chance by giving him time to set up traps or… whatever it was he used his tech for. Embo and Bossk got to wander around too, just to keep it fair. But you were going in blind.

Cad gave you the signal and you darted off; you were tempted to glance at them over your shoulder, but you knew that would only slow you down. Ten minutes, in theory, felt like long enough to get away. But you knew otherwise. You had to make each movement count.

You ducked through alleys and down streets, dropping items of clothes to try to throw off Bossk. You did your best to avoid Cad’s motion sensors. You tried to take the least logical path. All the while, your heart was pounding and your cunt was throbbing.

You ran through buildings, bumping up against the walls to transfer more of your scent, and then ran out again. You weaved around an empty marketplace, running circles around wooden stalls and touching everything. To top everything off, you took off your shoes, and chucked them in opposite directions.

Soon enough, your chronometer beeped, letting you know that the boys were officially on the hunt… and you needed to hide out. You decided on a warehouse toward the eastern edge of the settlement; it had multiple levels to it, so you figured you could easily hide there. Just as you reached the doorway, Bossk let out his hunting cry, and spikes of pleasure shot to your cunt. Soon… soon…

You crept through the reception area, trying to touch as little as possible. You knew Cad could track your heat signature, and you knew that Bossk would be able to follow your scent still… but you didn’t want to make it easy for them. You decided it would be best to take your chances upstairs, so you wandered until you found the stairwell, and began your ascension.

Climbing the numerous flights of stairs took a significant amount of time, but you had enough of a head start that it didn’t worry you. Even when Bossk’s calls grew closer. You went up five floors, before traversing down the long, empty hallways. The wind whistled through the bones of this building, drawing shivers up your spine. You weren’t sure why, but you swore you were being watched.

You ducked into a room off of the hall, and spotted a locker that looked like you could hide in it. You only made it about halfway across the room before a hand grasped your wrist and pulled you flush against a warm, hard body. You squirmed against the restrictive hand, startling as another hand was clapped over your mouth.

“Do not scream.” It was Embo. How…? You glanced up over your shoulder, meeting his golden gaze. He winked, and a shiver went down your spine. “I want to see how long it takes for them to find you.”

He eased you back into a corner, his hand moving from your mouth to your hip. He gave it a squeeze, his thumb brushing along the curve of your soft flesh. A foreign heat burned in his chest, and you could tell by the vibrant green tinge to his skin that this hunt had thrilled him. A low purr rumbled from deep in his chest.

“How did you…?”

“Your patterns are predictable. The others are concerned about where you have been… I was concerned about where you would go.” He explained, his voice edged with desire; you whimpered softly. “You go for large structures with many places to hide. You should just keep running. Maybe then Cad would have a chance.”

You fought a chuckle. “Unlike you, I don’t have unlimited stamina.”

“It is a shame.” He mused, the hand on your wrist dropping to grab your other hip. He pulled you flush against him, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “It would be much more fun if you did.”

Your breath came out as a shaky rattle, and his hands slid down farther. His large hand cupped your still-clothed cunt, rubbing a thumb over where he supposed your clit was. Your panties dampened as you sunk your teeth into your lip.

“Bossk surely can smell you now, all wet and yearning. He is going to be pissed.”

“Cad’s going to be madder.” You mentioned. Any moment now, the two pissed off hunters would barge in, and the thought of their anger sent spikes of pleasure to your cunt. Embo did not always win, but he won enough… enough to make the other two quite jealous.

He pressed his clothed cock against your back, and you could hardly stop yourself from begging him to fuck you. Not yet, he’d tell you. I want to see their faces when they notice I have won. Embo was not usually one to be conceited, but this game drove them all to their more primal instincts. You reached back to ran a hand along his length, just watching the door.

A loud growl alerted you to Bossk’s presence. He sauntered through the doorway, his teeth bared and his eyes narrowed. He jutted a claw toward Embo, who still had a firm hold on you, as if worried that Bossk would try to wrestle you away from him.

“You cheater!” Bossk roared. Surely this would draw Cad to you, if he wasn’t on the trail already.

“I do not cheat.” Embo replied pointedly.

“You have to! There is no way you found them that quickly!”

As if on cue, Cad stalked through the door; his lips pulled back to reveal his fangs. He leaned against the wall, watching as the other two bickered about ‘what counted as tracking’ and how Embo was ‘a dirty cheat’. You managed to break from Embo’s hold, and you wandered over to Cad.

“Good try?” You offered him, unsure of the mood he’d be in at this point. Judging by his growl, he wasn’t feeling too hot. “Don’t worry… gotta save the best for last, right?”

He quirked a browridge, but seemed to lighten up a bit. Maybe next time, you’d try to give Cad a better chance. You cupped his cheek, and he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Do not get any ideas, Cad.” Embo frowned, and Cad rolled his eyes.

“Wouldn’t dare.” He released his hold on you, and you moved to the center of the room. You pulled off your undershirt, and tossed it aside, bearing your torso to the boys. Bossk’s pupils dilated as he took in the intoxicating scent of your arousal. Embo’s eyes brightened. Cad just smirked and pulled out a cig.

“Good game, boys. I’ll try to make it last longer next time.” You winked, hooking your fingers around the waistband of your panties. You wondered if their more primal natures would become more intense if they were able to chase longer; honestly, a part of you wanted this. Next time… next time…

You shucked your panties off and tossed them to Bossk, who grappled for them and immediately brought them up to his snout. He inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the scent of your arousal. Embo beckoned to you with a finger, and you flitted toward him, falling to your knees before him. He leaned down to stroke your cheek as you reached for the ties of his skirts. They were, frustratingly, complicated to undo, so despite your best efforts, Embo did most of his own undressing. He neatly folded his clothes and set them atop his armor and hat, before bringing you up to stand.

“Do you need preparation? Or can you take me?” He asked, drawing the pads of his fingers down around your nipples. You bemoaned the fact that you were in an environment where he couldn’t remove his mask, as you knew that he would love to eat you out. But that could wait for another time. Right now, you needed to focus… oh fuck, your pussy was drooling now. Your legs shook as he gingerly pinched your nipples.

“P-please… I need your cock.” You whimpered, and he lifted you up; you wrapped your legs around his waist as he lined his cock up with your cunt. Slowly, he pushed in.

“Did you wish to see them?” Embo asked, his voice surprisingly even as he pushed further into you. You nodded as Embo turned to give you a better look at the other two. Though you’d never admit it, you were aroused at the thought of the other two watching as you were fucked. Bossk’s cocks had slipped out of his slit and were rapidly hardening. You couldn’t see Cad’s hard on, but you knew he would be quick to follow. A part of you wondered if it was just you that turned them on, or if they were also enjoying the view of their rival…

Soon, Embo had bottomed out, completely sheathing himself inside you. You swore his cock had pressed up under your ribs, though you knew this was not possible. You were so completely impaled by him. Your head lolled back as he slowly eased out, and then back in, quickly finding a suitable rhythm that wouldn’t completely wreck your insides.

You glanced over at the boys, watching as they shifted to try to accommodate their hard-ons. Bossk was rubbing a clawed hand over his cocks, still completely intoxicated by your scent. Cad smoked his cig to the butt, before crushing it beneath his boots.

Embo took his time fucking into you. His stamina would allow for him to fuck you all day, but while he was delighted to have you first, he was not greedy. He would allow for Bossk and Cad to have their turns with you.

Every thrust made his nodes drag across your sensitive spots, massaging them in a way that made your head spin and warmth pool in your belly. And when he pressed a thumb to your clit and rubbed, it was game over for you. You orgasmed, your body going limp and your vision going black as you milked his cock for all it was worth.

He would not have given up so easily in a private session, but given that he was not the only one fucking you today, he decided to cum early. He growled softly as he rested his head against yours, shooting his hot cum deep into you. It kept coming and coming… when he finished, he pulled you off his cock and his cum seeped down your thighs.

You wobbled, hardly able to catch your breath before Bossk approached. He had already pulled his cocks from his jumpsuit, and they were twitching for you. First, though… Bossk laid you down on the ground and spread your legs open wide. His tongue flicked out, lapping at the cum which dirtied your thighs; you weren’t sure if he actually enjoyed the taste of another man’s cum, or if he was just trying to clean you. Either way, his tongue slipped into your cunt, slurping up the left over cum like a starving man at a feast. He dragged his tongue in and out, growling and groaning, drawing gasps from deep within you. Heat boiled in your belly, and you felt as though you could cum then and there… but you’d wait as long as you could. You needed Bossk’s cocks…

He lifted your hips, his tongue swirling his lube-like saliva and cum mixture around your asshole. When he felt that you were sufficiently slicked, he situated himself between your legs, and lined up his cocks with your holes. When he pressed in, you let out a howl of pleasure.

He was slow, knowing your ass would need more time to adjust than your cunt would. Your hands went to your breasts as you looked over at Embo and Cad. Embo had found a desk to sit on, and was idly stroking his hardening cock. Cad was finally starting to show his arousal, his cheeks flushed green and a dopey look in his eyes.

“Pretty little prey.” Bossk purred as he stroked a claw along your cheek. “Pretty and tight.”

He eased in further, his cocks rubbing against the thin wall of flesh separating your cunt from your ass. You whined, arching your back and angling your hips toward him. Your legs were already shaking, your toes curling. And when he finally sheathed himself inside you, stars danced in your vision.

“Don’t cum yet, little prey… we’ve only just started.” Bossk eased out, and then back in. Bossk was long - not nearly as long as Embo, though - and his cocks were thick. Where Embo impaled you, Bossk completely stuffed you. Like Embo, though, his cocks pressed through your belly, and you watched as your belly rippled with every thrust.

His tongue snaked out to lick at your nipples, getting them hard; you were desperate for a mouth around them, though you knew Bossk would not be able to fulfill that desire. Maybe Cad would…

Bossk picked up his pace until you orgasmed, shooting fluids all over him; Bossk was quick to follow, his frills expanding to keep you locked onto his cocks. His cum was cool and thick, and filled you up; slowly, his frills deflated, and he pulled out. He was satisfied, but at the same time, like Embo, you knew he wanted more. He backed away, allowing Cad to approach now.

You sat up, watching as Cad pulled his cock out; it was hard and leaking what you assume was Duros precum. You were always shocked by how aroused the boys were; you had originally thought that they’d be turned off by the presence of each other… and yet…

“On yer hands an’ knees, doll.” Cad drawled, and you were quick to oblige. Your swollen, pliant cunt was ready for him, and he reveled in it. He drew a finger between the lips, rubbing Bossk’s cum around as a sort of lubricant, before pressing into you. You twitched around him, every touch sending sharp spikes of pleasure to your cunt; your body was flushed and hot. Your eyes were half-lidded. You were drooling onto the ground. You were so goddamn cock-dumb that it was making Embo and Bossk chuckle.

Cad’s grip on your hips was bruising, and every once in a while, he drew a hand back to smack your ass. You lurched forward with every hit, gasping and whimpering. He was determined to make his mark on you, much more concerned with claiming you than his companions were.

He nipped at your neck and shoulders, thrusting harder and harder into you; his ridges - oh, the ridges!- massaged your sensitive spots, which were already overstimulated from the two previous cocks in you. You could hardly keep yourself up, which Cad hadn’t failed to notice. Instead of holding you up, though, Cad shoved you to the ground, his hand holding your head down on the ground.

“Cad~!” You moaned, your voice pitching up as ecstasy gripped you. The heat in your belly threatened to spill, but you knew Cad didn’t care. He’d fuck you through three orgasms if he wanted.

“Dat’s it, doll. Yell my name. Tell dese idiots who ya belong t’!” He growled, not letting up on his pace. You turned your head to look at Bossk and Embo, noting their continued arousal; something told you that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow…

“CAD!” You cried, tension building. You were so goddamn close! If only…

Cad pressed his thumb to your clit and the tension snapped. Fluids rushed out around his cock as your body went limp; your head was in the clouds, high on ecstasy and sex. Every nerve was set ablaze.

You weren’t sure how long your orgasm lasted, only that Cad had continued to fuck into your tightened cunt. He was grunting, and his pace was beginning to falter, but he wouldn’t give up that easily. He tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you up closer to him. He dragged his teeth along your back.

“Yer too good t’ us, doll. Too good.” Cad muttered as he leaned forward, latching over your shoulder. You braced yourself, knowing what came next.

Cad’s pace grew erratic, and before long, he came, biting down into your shoulder as he shot his cum inside you. You cried out, orgasming again - this orgasm caught you off-guard, but you were pleased none the less.

Cad licked away the blood, before easing out of your sore cunt. He sat nearby, his soft cock just bobbing between his legs. The room was silent for a moment, before Embo approached once more.

“Are you able to take more?”

You knew you had a long night ahead of you.

-

Tags: @doctor-ren, @that-clone-wars-girl, @some-serendipity-snail, @rewin-d

[thefallennightmare]

Vas Prizrak-Sixteen

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 2108

Warnings: swearing, some smut if I’m feeling frisky, tiny bits of fluff, and a whole lot of angst.

Summary:  Bucky and Reader’s life in Wakanda had been everything they ever wanted. But when they are told about the fight that was on it’s way to them, they fear that life would be dusted away for good.

A/N: This is a pretty long chapter so I had to write the final fight scene in two part! Also, I’ve been tossing the idea around that once this series is complete of writing some one shots every once in awhile showing how reader and Bucky have adjusted and what not post endgame life. 

TAGS: @mggpleasedontlookhere @grey-force-jedi @austynparksandpizza @lovelyladymayyy​ 

“Bucky?” I questioned for what felt the fifth time. 

Even if he was standing in front of me, in his flesh form, I still could believe or trust what I was seeing. I had been seeing him in my dreams, hearing his voice in my head, for so long. What made this time any different? 

What made it different, was when he stepped towards me and laced our fingers together. The coolness of his vibranium fingers brought so much life and light back into the darkness that had been my soul for the last five years. 

“It’s really you?” 

Bucky lifted my hand to his cheek, a silent way of telling me that he was in fact here. The hairs of his beard had tickled my palm while my fingers danced with the ends of his hair. The five years in the snap hadn’t changed him one bit, still looking devilishly handsome since our last morning together in Wakanda. 

I, however, had changed so much. I could see in the way his eyes drank in my appearance that he had so many questions. 

My body tingled with goosebumps, desire pooling deep within my core, and it clicked that I felt what Bucky had been feeling. So with silence between us, I slowly stood on my toes to reach his plump lips, smacking together with unforgotten ease. Bucky’s hands snaked around my waist, pulling me so close, heat radiating off of him. When my fingers sprawled on his chest, I could feel the warmth immediately. 

His tongue found its way into my mouth, exploring every crevice and dancing with my own. Bucky lifted me with ease, his vibranium arm underneath my ass, and when I locked my legs around him that was when we decided to pull away. Our foreheads rested against each other. 

“You’re back,” I sobbed, tears falling down my cheeks onto his face. 

He nodded, brushing away the tears. 

“I’m back, doll.” 

I kissed him again, slightly hungrier than the last one, wanting to savor his taste to memory. 

“Buck?” 

We both turned our heads towards Steve, who looked dumbfounded that it had worked. Our plan had worked. 

Reluctantly, I dropped to my feet allowing Bucky to give Steve a quick hug. 

“I hate to cut all of our reunions short but we’ve got a huge fight ahead of us.” 

Sam’s voice crackled in our coms 

“Believe it or not, I missed you too Sam,” I smirked. 

“What’s up, Marshmallow. New hair?” 

I realized that my hair was still flaming around my head. Ignoring Sam’s comment, I gave Bucky my full attention once again. The smile that played on his face brought immediate guilt, however, when I saw Steve standing behind Bucky. 

“Bucky, I-.” 

Steve stepped between us, knowing what I was going to confess. 

“Later.” 

Suddenly, Thanos’ army screamed with the want to fight and kill, bringing me back to the reality that lay in front of us. So as I laced fingers with Bucky, I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“We have a lot of things to catch up on when this is all over.” 

Bucky nodded, swinging his gun from his back. 

“You and me, doll. Till the end.” He promised. 

Steve looked at us with a stern gaze, silently asking if we were ready and we both nodded with our answer. Before I called forth the fire, I slipped the mask back over my face which earned a questioning eyebrow raise from Bucky. 

“Is that mine?” He asked. 

“Uh, yeah. I went through a dark time after you disappeared,” I admitted with a slight shrug. 

“And that?” Bucky motioned to the ink on my left arm. 

“Do we have to do this now?” I semi whined. “We’re about to fight for our lives.” 

He held up his hands in surrender but mentioned that we would be having a discussion later. 

The fire spread fast to my fingers, hair still ablaze with flames, and with a final wink towards Bucky, I flew straight up in the air hovering next to Sam. 

“Seriously?” His eyes were wide with confusion. 

I merely shrugged and looked below towards our army, new and old members, with a proud smile. When Steve had mentioned the plan to me weeks ago, I thought he was crazy. There was no way we would be able to get everyone back from the snap but we did it. He promised that he would bring Bucky back home to me and he delivered on that promise. Which is why I owed him the greatest debt I ever owed to anyone. 

Steve called forth Mjolnir with a deep yell. “AVENGERS! Assemble!”

Sam and I flew together towards one of those flying monsters, with one hand still helping me fly I used the other one to send a large fireball towards it. It landed directly into its face but did nothing to phase it. 

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. “Sam you’re on your own. I’m going to need both hands for this one.” 

With both feet planted firmly on the ground now, I spread out both hands towards the herd of aliens that came sprinting my way. Shot after shot of flames incinerated them before they even had the chance to touch me. 

Sensing danger, I looked towards Bucky and noticed that one of the large aliens was inches away from him, ready to attack. 

“Bucky!” 

I flew over to him and as I landed in front of him, I placed a large fire wall around us to protect us. The alien had run right into it, falling to the dirt in a pile of ash. 

“That’s new,” Bucky smirked. 

“You haven’t seen anything, yet.” I gave him a quick peck. 

Turning my back to him, I noticed a small fire burning next to us. I shook out whatever nerves I had and decided now would be the best time to try this out. I had read about fire manipulation but was too scared to try it out. 

Letting out a deep breath, I focused all of my energy on the small fire and with the guidance of my fingers, they danced along with the flames as I guided it towards an alien that had started running towards us. 

With a few seconds of peace, I noticed Bucky trying to blow a strand of hair out of his face and chuckled. Quickly running my fingers through his hair, I tied half of it up in a bun so he could see. 

“You’re always looking out for me,” he said. 

I hadn’t had a chance to say anything back, something attacking me from behind. Falling hard to the ground, alien nails clawed their way into my back causing a banshee scream to fall from my lips. 

“Y/N!” 

Snarling teeth snapped at my face, trying to take a chunk of my flesh. I saw a glimmer of metal out of the corner of my eye, noticing Bucky had thrown me a knife. With fast reflexes, I snatched it up and stabbed it into the aliens head. 

“Ugly mother fuckers,” I cursed after throwing the dead body off of me. 

Bucky gently helped me to my feet and winced when he saw the wound on my stomach. I immediately reassured him that I was fine. 

“It’s an old one. I cauterized it earlier to stop the bleeding,” I said while pushing his hand away. 

“CAP! What do you want me to do with the gauntlet?”

Clint's worried voice sounded through our coms. 

“We need to get them back to where they came from,” I said into mine. 

“We can’t. Thanos destroys the quantum tunnel.” Tony’s informed us.

I cursed and looked over towards Bucky. “We’re fucked.” 

“No we’re not. We’ve got another time machine,” Scott reminded us. 

The sound of a corny horn tune played throughout the battlefield and Bucky gave me a confused glance. I merely shrugged in response. 

“Anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” Steve asked. 

Bucky nodded behind me. “Y/N and I see it. You’re not going to like where it’s parked.” 

We noticed that it was parked directly in the middle of Thanos’ army so we knew it wasn’t going to be an easy task keeping Scott safe while he tried to get the van working. 

Bucky and I continued to fight side by side, not missing a beat. I blasted fire ball after fireball to countless aliens, keeping them from getting close to us. 

The sky above cracked with missiles falling from Thanos’ ship, raining down towards us. Clapping my hands, a fire shield erupted from them and I held it up towards the missiles, protecting Bucky and I from them. They exploded once they touched the shield. 

“Y/N! I could use some help over on this end!” Steve’s voice demanded through the coms. 

Looking towards his voice, I saw that he had started to get run over by a group of aliens. Guiding a large fire that burned an old part of the Avengers compound to the aliens, Steve gave me a nod of thanks when they all burned at his feet. 

“Marshmallow! You’ve got a second?” 

Hearing Sam’s voice, I gave Bucky my attention for a second asking if he would be fine. He gave me a simple answer by raising his gun, killing an alien that had snuck up on me from behind. 

Suddenly I was flying through the air over towards Sam. “Whatcha need?” 

“The van is about to get over run with a hoard of them,” he nodded below us. 

“I’ve got something in mind but I’ve never done it before,” I admitted. 

“Do it,” Sam yelled. 

Nodding, I spun my hands in a circle, over and over again, using the already burning flames to create a large tornado; a fire tornado. Using all of my focus, I guided it towards the horde of aliens that were seconds away from attacking the van. They screeched as they spun in the flames, turning to ash. 

“Holy shit that was cool,” I muttered. 

I knew that they were endless possibilities of what I could do with my powers, I never knew exactly what I could do. 

Suddenly the missiles from Thanos’ ship had changed their trajectory, shooting at something in the atmosphere. Sam and I looked at each other as we both flew closer to what it was shooting at. 

Carol Danvers appeared, flying herself into the airship, causing it to crumble within. Once it had fallen into the waters below, I descended down and came to a stop next to Steve. 

“We need to help Carol deliver the gauntlet to Scott,” He said. 

I looked around at the battle scene and had an idea but I was unsure if it would actually work. I had read about it years ago and the last time I tried it, I ended up leveling an old abandoned city in Russia. 

“I might have a way but I’m not sure if it will work.”

I filled him in on my plan and was surprised when he didn’t give me a crazed look. He believed that I could do it. 

“You need to focus, clear your mind and focus on that,” Steve assured me. 

Sucking in my bottom lip, I slowly nodded agreeing that I would try to do it. 

“Hey guys,” I started to speak into my com, “I have a way to stop all of the aliens and the large worm things. But I want to apologize beforehand in case I burn any of you to death.” 

“Excuse me?” Sam spoke. 

“The last time I did this it didn’t end well,” I defended. 

“Doll, do it. We’ll be fine.” 

Bucky’s voice calmed the last nerves I had left and with a quick nod to Steve, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My hands raised to my sides, all of my focus and thoughts on bringing the flames from Hell below to the surface. The ground shook violently below my boots and letting out a long breath, my eyes snapped open with darkness encasing my pupils and I floated in the air. Flames bursted their way through the ground, setting Thanos’ army ablaze almost immediately and guiding the largest of the flames to the worms in the sky, they burned to black ash; raining down around all of us. 

I couldn’t relish in the moment that I had finally pulled it off correctly because my body had felt weak, my unconscious taking over. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I started falling from the sky, body limp. 

“Y/N!” Bucky bellowed. 

[waiting4inspiration]

To be Evil IV: Loyalty

Summary: Thanos now has two more Infinity Stone, but refuses to send you on missions to get the other stones. His reluctance is probably a good thing. Especially when you learn what you really are. 

Warnings: I don’t know if this makes sense anymore but oh well, angst, strong language, Infinity War (rewritten), I feel like I’m just rambling at this point

Word Count: 1,991

To be Evil Masterlist II Marvel Masterlist

You traveled across the universe with your new team in search of the other Infinity Stones, and yet, you have done nothing but wait for orders from Thanos. He had gone to Knowhere to find the Reality Stone, brought back one of his ‘daughters’ who you’ve heard be called Gamora, and then took her to Vomir to retrieve the Soul Stone. He came back from that mission alone and deep down, you knew why. 

With two Stones left, both of them on Earth, the ship makes its way back to your home planet.

Each time a stone is placed in the gauntlet, it’s as if a part of you fixes in place and your powers buzz inside you. Your dreams change, but you can never remember what they are when you wake. All you know is that it is about the Stones. The Time Stone and the Mind Stone are all that remain and you’re eager to get out of this spaceship and retrieve the Stones. 

Though, there has been some advantage of having nothing to do while Thanos hunts for the Stones. You’ve had time to focus on your powers, work on them without having to focus on control. In that time, you’ve learned to do things you’ve never done before, things that will allow you to fight more than one person all while standing in one place. And it’s no longer using curses. Not really. 

Now, with Earth in sight, you wait for your orders from Thanos, so sure that he will give you an important task, especially after you have proven yourself by retrieving the Tesseract and the Space Stone. But he left you out of obtaining either the Time Stone or the Mind Stone. Those tasks were given to Ebony Maw, Cull Obsidian, Corvus Glaive, and Proxima Midnight,

“There is a reason you are leaving me out of retrieving the Stones, isn’t there?” you question Thanos after the meeting, walking up to him as the others walk away to prepare themselves. 

Thanos doesn’t look at you. All he does is carry on to stare out the window at the nearing planet and it slightly irritates you. “You have done enough-”

“I want to do more,” you cut him off, stopping just behind him as you clench your hands into fists. “I’m sick of sitting around, doing nothing. Let me go after the Mind Stone.”

“No,” Thanos quickly objects, turning around to face you as you shift on your feet at the firm tone in his voice. Almost as if he’s hesitant about you going after the Mind Stone. You could read his mind to find out why, but you won’t because you know he’s too powerful with four stones in his possession for it to go unnoticed. It wouldn’t be a good idea. “I have not given you a mission so that your loyalty can be tested,” he explains, but you don’t believe it. 

You shake your head, glance over his shoulder at Earth and fold your arms over your chest. “You think I’m going to go back to that team after everything they’ve done to me?” you question, chuckling as you look at him with a sarcastic smile on your face. “Do not treat me as they did,” you warn, your eyes taking on the yellow glow that you’ve grown used to. And with your powers becoming stronger, the glow is almost permanent. 

Thanos knows your connection to one of the Infinity Stones. He knows the source of your powers comes from the Mind Stone, and he knows he doesn’t want to be in your way when you use your growing powers. 

He sighs, steps towards you and nods his head. “Go after the Time Stone. But do not engage an attack unless needed,” he orders. 

And though it is a mission, you scoff and roll your eyes. It’s a babysitting job. Make sure Ebony Maw and Cull Obsidian do their jobs and not interfere. “Very well,” you mutter, thinking at least it’s a reason to get off the spaceship and get some fresh air. 

Joining the two of your companions on the Q-ship, you make your way to what you know is New York. Maw gives a basic plan of attack, but you know that you aren’t to do anything unless something should go wrong. And with Maw and Obsidian working together, the chances of things going wrong are very slim. 

You end up sitting on the roof of a building, looking down and watching everything from a distance. Seeing the Time Lord, Doctor Strange, alongside Tony and Bruce, you perk up in interest and take a step slightly closer. You can feel the presence of the Time Stone and you have a deep desire to be united with it. 

Watching the fight beneath you, how Cull Obsidian was blasted away with ease by Tony, Bruce going with in Hulk form to fight the colossal member of the Black Order and Ebony Maw is defeated and sent away from the scene through a portal created by Strange, you smile at the realization that your time has come. Thons said not to interfere unless needed. Well, now it is needed. 

Using your powers to alleviate yourself off the roof of the building and to land gently on the ground in front of Strange. It would be best if Tony remains out of this so you can take the Time Stone. You know Strange will put up a fight, so you’ll need all the strength you can muster up. 

“I’m sure you know what I want,” you say, stepping forward as your eyes glance down to the Eye of Agamotto hanging around Strange’s chest that holds the Time Stone. “And if I must, I will fight you for it,” you add, holding your hands out and lifting pieces of rubble from the previous fight, a new trick you had learned. 

“You must be (Y/n),” Strange speaks, and you expect him to prepare himself for a fight, but he doesn’t. Still, you keep the rubble floating behind you just in case. “Tony has spoken about you, about your powers.”

You scoff, roll your eyes at him and take a step forward. “About how dangerous I am? Well, I’ve learned so much now that I don’t have him telling me to hold back,” you mention, smiling proudly at yourself as you take another step forward. “I’d be happy to show you,” you chuckle before sending everything you have levitating behind you towards him. 

Strange uses his magic against your move, making the rubble turn to dust and fall at his feet. “I don’t want to fight you, Guardian,” he says, making you freeze and frown at him in confusion. He sees this, tilts his head and steps closer as you slowly lower your hands to your sides, their glow dying down. “I know you come from the Mind Stone. You know that too. But it seems you do not know what your purpose is,” he mentions, walking closer to you as you stare at him. “You don’t know whose side you’re supposed to be on-”

“I know whose side I’m on,” you snap, throwing a large piece of debris at him with a wave of your hand. He counters your attack, destroys the block you sent to him into pieces as you glare at him “And it sure as hell isn’t yours,” you sneer, stepping forward again as you conjure up a barrier around him, as you did with Wanda. 

And yet, Strange doesn’t fight back. He gives in to your hold on him, and it’s probably the thing preventing you from knocking him out and taking the Time Stone from him. “You haven’t been collecting the Stone for Thanos. Deep down, you’ve been collecting them for yourself because you were chosen and created by them to protect them from those that would use them for good or bad,” Strange mentions, making your face fall and freeze in your tracks. 

That’s exactly what that feeling is. You couldn’t explain it, until you heard someone else say it. Lowering your hands and breaking the barrier around him. Still, you shake your head at him as he walks towards you. “I have seen because this has shown me,” he explains, moving his hands to open the charm protecting the Stone. 

The Time Stone floats towards you like it’s drawn to you. And you reach out for it, glancing up to Strange to make sure it’s alright. He nods his head.

As you close your hand around the green stone, it’s like you’re taken back to the time just before you burst into life from the Mind Stone. You remember the threat the Stone felt as HYDRA started their experiments, you remember getting an order to protect it and to protect the other Stones if things come to that. 

Glancing down to your hand as you open it, you stare at the Stone and suddenly know what you have to do. 

After your curse triggered Bucky’s Winter Soldier programming, he went to Wakanda to make sure that the work Shuri did on his mind wasn’t reversed. He went with Steve, Wanda, and Vision because knowing now that Thanos is looking for the Infinity Stones and the Mind Stone hasn’t been taken yet, they have a plan to destroy the Stone without killing Vision to stop Thanos from getting what he wants. It was Loki’s plan. 

Thankfully, Bucky’s mind is all good. There’s no chance anyone can trigger him with those special words. But all he can think about is why you did what you did. He thought he knew you well enough not to do something like that to him. And though he knows you didn’t mean to do it, that your curse was meant for Steve, it still hurt him. 

 “We all know that Thanos is gonna come for the Mind Stone and he’s probably gonna have (Y/n) at his side,” Steve says, looking between each member of the team, including T’Challa and Vision and they plan for an attack from Thanos. “She’s more powerful now and will probably be the one to take the Mind Stone-”

“If that happens, she’ll be unstoppable,” Bucky cuts him off, making everyone look at him. Bucky takes a deep breath, runs his tongue over his lips and drops his gaze to his hands. “The Mind Stone is the source of her powers. She’s basically the Stone in human form,” he explains, closing his eyes as he recalls the memory. 

He was there when you showed up, assigned to protect one of the scientists. He remembers the flash, your figure appearing out of nowhere before you raised your hands to destroy the room. The only ones that got out were you, Bucky, and his assigned scientist. Then you disappeared, and Bucky found out years later when he met you again that you were found by Tony after that, but you forgot everything that happened. 

“If she gets in touch with the Mind Stone, the chances that she could tap into the power of the other Stone,” Vision mentions, making Bucky nod his head when he looks at him. “Then there’s no knowing what she’ll do. Whether she’ll fight Thanos or fight with him.”

“What you’re saying is that she could side with us, but if she doesn’t, we’re screwed,” Natasha says, simplifying it and making Vision nod in confirmation. “What would make her side with us?” she asks, still look at Vision because he’ll be the one to know with the Mind Stone in his head.  

Vision glances at Wanda for a second before he looks over to Bucky. The Winter Soldier knows what that looks means. The only way they can get you to side with them would either be some major sucking up, or if someone really close to you appeals to you. 

Someone who knows how to calm you down. 

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[superworldunkown]

Marry Me? Terms and Conditions Apply.

AN: I 100% fantasize that Bakugou would propose with one of his pull rings from his Hero Costume Gauntlets. I also imagine the moment he realized he loved someone he’d just go for it. Like doesn’t matter if he’s still in school or not. He be like “Here. Now we’re married. See you at LunchRush.” Because he is our determined, emotionally constipated little bean. (and he deserves so much love) So, i wrote about it. Enjoy. 

Summary: Bakugou want’s to propose. But you’ve got some Terms and Conditions. Bakugou x Black Reader.

‘I think I get it now.’

Bakugou was smart, there was no question about it. And if anyone did question it...well they keep it to themselves, as they should! He had grown in his years at UA. More so emotionally than physically. Sure, he now had the admiration and calls from agencies that he craved, but now that his subconscious wasn’t silenced by his ego, it didn’t have the same sweet taste he imagined it would in his earlier U.A. Years.

He didn’t crave the same level of fame, and being rich meant something entirely different. Being the Number One Hero, feared and revered ... it didn’t have the same allure. If only he had figured that out before you ended up in a hospital bed. 

He’d have to fall for one of the most selfless, cocky, kind, witty, empathetic students in all of U.A. As if he didn’t get enough of that from working with Deku. 

You always had to be the last one. Last one to get a word in, last one to throw a punch, and last one of out of danger. You had this weird obsession with finding value in yourself by saving others. And the one time - the one fucking time he actually was focused on winning by saving, he couldn’t save you. 

Now, you were lying there, tubes running in and and out of you. Your brown skin lacked the warm glow. Your eyes, the ones he would get lost in, and then pissed about getting lost in, were dull and tired looking. And was that a speck of dust in between the thick curls of your hair? Hell no. Does anyone in the hospital know how to take care of you like he does? Fuck, if he wasn’t so close to graduating he’d blow a hole in the doctors desk. 

Needless to say, you looked broken. The doctor said you’d have months of rehab ahead of you. And, he’d overheard the administration would have severe consequences for the violations. After all, you weren’t in the hero course, you shouldn’t have even been there! But, you couldn’t help sticking your nose, and your big ass heart into dangerous situations.

“Hey BoomKat.” You whispered, a lazy smile dripping across your face. You lifted your finger slightly to pat down the empty spot on your bed you had saved just for him 

Bakugou complied, walking over to you while muttering, “Thought I told you to stop calling me that.” 

“Eh, what are you going to do about it? I don’t have too many bones left to break.” You let out a small, but pained laugh. 

“I’m waiting until you get better, and then I’m breaking your legs again.” 

“Oooh,” You wiggled your eyes in excitement, “Sounds like a date, babe.” 

There it was. The way his heart skipped a beat when you called him that. It was the same sensation he had when you called him out for the first time three years ago. Or that time when you trained together and got a little too close. The time you cooked together in the dorms or studied late together. That time when he felt bold enough to kiss you during the second year School Festival. And that time when you ran back into the building to save those civilians, and seeing it collapse moments later. Those where the thoughts, the moments that fought against those ideals of fame and fortune.

“I think, I get it now.” He spoke the words out loud. “I don't think i was ever meant to be the number 1 hero.”

“Katsu-don’t say that.”

His words danced at the edge of his lips, wrapped in nervousness as they departed despite their boldness, “I know now. I’m meant to be your number 1 hero.”

Before you could even formulate a rebuttal, Bakugou wiggled the pull pin into your hand. Looking down she asked, “Isn’t this your pull pin for your grenade bracers? Wait, Katsuki! Are-are you proposing to me?”

“Yeah, so what if I am?” Fuck. He did not expect to say that.

Despite the blur in your eyes, you smoothed over the silver circle, “Only you would propose with a hand grenade.” A small laugh filled the room as you attempted to fit the pull ring of the pin to you finger, slightly taken aback that it was almost a near perfect fit. “Only you Katsuki. Only you.”

The kiss was everything that the two of you needed. For Bakugou it was the reminder he needed that despite the sheer terror that was loving someone, the vulnerability and unknowing of it all was worth it for moment’s like these. For you, it had a confirmation that there was a reason to be in the here and now. It was right in front of you.

But, the story would not end here. There were some issues to sort out first.

“You realize that i’m not saying yes, right?”

The way Bakugou’s mouth hung open was tempting as it was humorous. “You’re saying no?”

“Not no.” you corrected, “Just not yet. Look, I’m hospital bound with a tube in every orpheus of my body. I have no idea what’s going to happen to me when the report’s are filed. And you. You are the new Big Three of UA, you’re top of your class, you have agencys hounding you left and right for a contract. We’re 18! We can’t just go off and get married!”

“Why the Hell not?”

“How about this. I accept your proposal, on 4 conditions.”

Bakugou growled, “Conditions!”

You ignored his question/outburst and continued, “First. I want you talk with someone. Like really talk to them. Once a week until you graduate.”

He knew exactly what she meant and therefore silenced his argument.

“Second, I want you to work on that anger of yours. I’m not going to be having my husband scaring people outside of office hours got it? Third, I want you to work things out with Deku.”

“Hey! I-“

“You two are on a path together whether you like it or not. Work it out. Talk it out. You tried to fight it out and that was some progress. Imagine if you two really worked on properly taking care of eachother.”

“I want the damn ring back.”

The tip of your tongue flipped against your lips as you twirled the pin around your finger, “Can’t take it back now when i tentatively accepted. Okay, number 4 this is serious. Don’t you ever lose that fire. Despite my requests of 1 through 3, don’t ever loose what i love about you most. Your desire to win. I want you to be the best, the strongest, finish the top in your class, be the number 1 recruit. Make everyone scared and proud of you, got it?”

Ah, that signature smirk, “Finally something i can agree on. Now, I have conditions.”

“Oh?” you titled your head, “And what are they?”

“Stop surviving, and start living your life. I want you to be with me in everything, and really be with me. No more half-assing. You do everything with 100% from now on. Got that!”

"BoomKat, you got yourself a deal.” 

“And stop calling me that!” 

[twh-news]

How Loki's finale sets up season 2 and the future of the MCU

Loki finale spoilers follow.

Just minutes into the season-one finale, Loki and Sylvie finally arrive at their destination following last week's big castle reveal. When the doors to their destiny swing open, Miss Minutes suddenly appears and congratulates the pair on completing this "awfully long journey."

Sure, season one was only six episodes long, but Loki's story started way before this. Combine all of his movie appearances with the wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey hijinks of this show, and it sure does feel like we've been on a long journey with the God of Mischief.

And now, following that post-credits reveal, Marvel has confirmed that Loki will indeed return for a second season. Thank the gods this journey is continuing, because there are more loose threads in that final episode than there are in all of Asgard's finest tailories combined.

Loki ending explained

Upon arriving at the Citadel at the End of Time, Loki and Sylvie are promised all of their greatest desires, including an infinity gauntlet, the Throne of Asgard and a win against those "self-righteous' Avengers. Christmas came early for our Lokis, but despite all that, they both end up turning Miss Minutes down.

And with that, the Big Bad of Loki (and now the MCU as a whole) is revealed to be Lovecraft Country's Jonathan Majors, AKA He Who Remains AKA Kang the Conquerer AKA "a jerk" (his words, not ours) AKA the villain that comic book fans predicted all along. What follows is a hefty amount of exposition that puts even the first episode to shame, so we'll do our best to summarise.

While He Who Remains bops around to avoid Sylvie's sword, he serves the pair tea and begins to explain his big origin story. Eons ago, in the 31st century, our guy (let's call him Kang, even if the show didn't) discovered the multiverse around the same time that other Kang variants did. At first, they shared knowledge and tech amongst themselves, but as time went on, those who were not "pure of heart" began to invade other realities, which erupted into all-out war.

This Kang was different from the rest, because he discovered Alioth, a creature born of the tears in reality that this war created. He Who Remains weaponised the creature, thereby ending the multiversal war. To preserve cosmic harmony, this variant then decided to isolate the "sacred" timeline, his own, and prune the rest to avoid another war. He then created the TVA to maintain this peace and thereby keep his other variants at bay.

According to He Who Remains, the only way Loki and Sylvie can move forward is if they either take over the TVA or kill this variant, which would unleash the multiversal war along with an "infinite amount of devils." So either "stifling order or cataclysmic chaos."

Pressure mounts once they cross the threshold, the point beyond the timeline that Kang knows. Everything from this point on is a surprise to him, so he's content to let his fate rest in the hands of two Lokis because… he's tired, he says.

Sylvie thinks that He Who Remains is also He Who Fibs A Bunch, so she tries to kill him. Loki isn't so sure though, and as you might expect, the pair try to settle this with a cheeky knife fight. This ends with a big kiss (cue the strings!) and then a double cross.

That's right. Sylvie chooses vengeance over love and shoves Loki through a portal, sending him back to the TVA. And with that, Lady Loki guts Kang like a fish. He seems pretty chill about it though, promising that she'll see him soon... Ominous much?

At that point, all of the timelines start branching out like crazy, creating the multiverse of madness that Kang tried to stop, until he got bored of it. We then cut back to Sad Loki at the TVA where he tries to tell Mobius that a terrifying new threat is on the way. But Mobius doesn't even know who he is anymore.

Does this mean that the timeline has been altered? Or has Loki been thrown into a new reality? Either way, it's not looking too good for the God of Mischief because a statue of Jonathan Majors has replaced the Time Keepers one we usually see in the TVA lobby.

How Loki's finale sets up season 2 and the MCU's future

Season two is going to throw plenty of new challenges at Loki, and hopefully a lot less exposition. First of all, our God of Mischief will need to figure out what the Hel's going on in this new version of the TVA. How will he get Mobius on side if Kang has always ruled this timeline or rewritten history in some way?

And it's not just one Kang he needs to worry about. He Who Remains has now become They Who Remain, which means that there are an infinite number of time-travelling villains to fight. And the worst thing of all is that Loki doesn't even have Sylvie on side now either following that savage betrayal.

Things could soon change in that regard though given the pair's connection. With Kang's tempad, Sylvie can go anywhere now, and we wouldn't be surprised if she ends up drawn back to Loki in some way.

Ravonna will almost certainly pop up again too. The TVA is all she's known, before the mindwipe anyway, and her quest to discover free will could end up transforming the Judge into an ally of sorts. And boy does Loki need all the help he can get.

Beyond the show itself, Loki's finale also just changed Marvel's entire trajectory. Not since we saw America's Ass has the MCU been left so shook by one event, but here we are, about to dive into the multiverse of madness.

The most obvious connection is between this and Doctor Strange's next film, which happens to be called The Multiverse of Madness. The good Doctor must be having heart palpitations after watching this episode, and rightly so, because he's perhaps the only one strong enough to fix this mess, aside from Wanda of course. In fact, the Scarlet Witch could turn out to be the key to everything going on here.

As a Nexus Being, Wanda can reshape reality itself, and that's going to come in handy given all of the Nexus shizz happening from this point on. Elizabeth Olsen's involvement in the film has already been confirmed, and at the end of WandaVision, it was strongly implied that Wanda will visit another reality to try and rescue some version of her now deceased children. Could this help fix things somehow or perhaps make them worse?

Doctor Strange and Wanda aren't the only ones caught up in all this. An animated show called What If...? will dive into some of Marvel's alternate realities firsthand, and the upcoming Spider-Man sequel will also tackle the multiverse with cameos from franchise stars who appeared pre-Marvel. Who knows? Maybe Spider-Ham will turn out be the one who saves everyone.

All this multiverse tomfoolery also opens the gates for X-Men and Fantastic Four characters to finally join the MCU. Marvel's First Family, as they're known in the comics, are already confirmed to star in their own film, and those Merry Mutants won't be far behind either. Whether those teams end up being recast or whether they ask the original actors to come back, one mutant whose return has already been confirmed is Deadpool.

[niks-minion]

crack request of me right now but... is it bad that i kinda want this top three + deku teamup to fail 😭😭 or at least not go to plan.

like look, i get why the other kids got left behind, since they're neither deku the mc with the op power nor the top heroes with sometimes decades more experience, and the way horikoshi has been scaling their powers it's usually only deku who gets to have the bamf explosion of power moments outside of training (the other kids do help out for sure, but usually it involves careful planning like the put gigantomachia to sleep thing, and generally they're not allowed huge displays of power, so that makes u feel like they can't keep up with deku) but like... it rubs me the wrong way. what we're doing now is grooming deku to be the sole pillar (a concept proven shitty and unstable) while the other kids aren't granted the chance to have all might or whoever pay extra special attention to them. like all might sucks as a teacher tbh. even in 284 he has the other kids take time from their own training regiments to help deku instead of like... making up an exercise that benefits the whole class and deku. he left behind 39+ kids who looked up to him and needed guidance (basically implying they're not worth his time, are not gonna be able to make a difference) at a time when the world around them is falling apart.

and like... i get it, deku is the mc, he's gonna get special attention, he's gonna get the cool powers and the bonus training or whatever. im absolutely not mad about that. i'm also not expecting all the kids to get equal relevance or whatever. you could argue that we've got no time to waste on training the other kids and their feelings. but i can't help but be a bit frustrated that horikoshi created so many cool characters with so much potential only to have it seem like they'll end up sidelined. like it feels atp like the tertiary protagonist is endeavor not shouto.

and ig what im asking for is the other kids rising to the occasion. even if they don't have guidance from the symbol of peace or full support from the top three heroes, even if they don't have the generations passed down power, even if they're not the chosed one, even if they're left out of plans and treated like they're secondary, id like to see them defy expectations. I'd like to see a scenario where the old heroes won't cut it and where the kids take charge to bring about some genuine change in both the world and the hero system. i want to see a scenario where the current plan fails and they need to be bailed out by the kids (+everyone else). i'd like to see the other kids grow out of both a desire to be great heroes and spite lmaoo

like i know this is probably irrational wish fulfillment on my end, and im not a writer so this probably wouldn't make for a cool story to anyone but me, but damn do i want it and damn do i miss the kids.

Ok. Hello my dear anon. Now that’s a long ask.

Ok. Warning. My opinion may be a bit biased, and also more focused on the origin trio than the whole class, bc let’s be honest it was obvious from the start there the main focus would be.

1. Let’s start with the fact that I’m not a Deku hater. Yes I make jokes, yes the sole focus on him makes me bitter bc we all have our favorites and want them to shine, yes I’m dying to see tdbk team up, bite me. That doesn’t mean that me, you or any other person wishing to get smth more is a “die Deku die!” enthusiast.

2. Your opinion is valid and understandable. Honestly, I get it. More so I think that’s gonna be the case bc come on, you can’t tell me that this dream team is gonna just kick a couple of asses, scream “plus ultra” and restore the whole country back to normal. I call bullshit. I’ve heard the guess that it may be a mirror to Katsuki’s kidnapping during the forest arc. (Would be cool bc the whole class could come to the picture and save him, plus Deku realizing he’s not alone etc etc)

3. About Deku being op and others being in his shadow.

Well, yep, as you’ve said- our broccoli boy is the mc, so 🤷🏻‍♀��

But taking jjk for example I don’t feel bitter about Megumi. And in Haikyuu I didn’t feel bitter literally about any character, especially Kageyama, god damn it’s the most satisfying shonen manga for those who has “I usually like mc’s bff/rival more” mindset. (it’s me)

That’s why I’m gonna die in the hill of denial that in bnha at least Bakugou and Todo are not gonna end up eating dirt and be satisfied with the average place somewhere behind Izuku.

Welcome to my praying circle, let’s sit and drink cola/wine while waiting for tumblr to go mad with the frames of other class 1A ( 2a now) kids. Plus Shinsou. Plus shiketsu kids, why the fuck Inasa wasn’t at the war arc, wind throwing villains here and there?!

4. The most irritating thing for me is this.

And this

Again, I totally get it. They need to protect ofa. What’s the better place for it than being sandwiched between top to heroes. And yes you can say the others are just kids and dealing with real life threats is too early for them. Deku simply has no choice. I’m ok with it.

But holy shit, was I disappointed to witness this exact frame...Yeah, yeah, call me Shouto simp, whatever man. But the build up, the “here is my hand, let’s fight together”... it’s only natural for me to to wish Todo was there too. I’m craving for Shouto/Hawks/Enji team up.

About Deku’s arms. Excuse me, but... it had so great drama potential. That he injured his arms and for now is unable to use them to the full capacity or something. I’m a sucker for a good angst so🤷🏻‍♀️ but then it was solved just like that? Ok, what did stop you to order these gauntlets like half a year ago, ha?

Welp, It’s for the reason that our duo is out of the picture. Suspiciously so.

Let’s wait a bit and hope for the best.

[duhragonball]

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 83-87

Last time, the Red Stone of Aja got mailed out to the bad guys, so Joseph and Caesar have gone to shake down the Venice Post Office.   Notably, Joseph wears a hat and coat similar to the one he’s rocking in Part 3.

Turns out, the package is already on its way to St. Moritz, Switzerland.   Messina knows this because... okay, try to follow this.   So Esidisi hijacked Suzie Q’s body to mail the Stone.   So she probably wasn’t even aware of what she was being forced to do, but Lisa Lisa used Ripple Hypnosis on her to retrieve the address.   You’d think she would have told the boys about this ability before they ran over to the post office, but maybe they left before she could say anything.

Meanwhile, this dog’s about to get run over, but this is Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, so what else is new.   Araki’s hatred for comic book dogs is the stuff of legend.

OR IS IT?   Yeah, take a good long look, because this is the only time Araki saves a dog in JJBA.    Apparently, Kars is a sucker for innocent plants and animals, go figure.  

I don’t know what else to tell you, except Battle Tendency = Best JoJo Part.  

As for Joseph, he and the others go to Switzerland, only to get held up by Nazis at the border.  Turns out, their mysterious commander knows all about the Red Stone of Aja, the Pillar Men, and Joseph and Caesar’s Ripple training.   That guy who tried to rob Lisa Lisa a while back?  He was a Nazi spy the whole time.   So now they have the Stone, and they want to cooperate with Joseph’s group.   Lisa goes along with it, because it’s better than letting Kars find the stone.

For some reason, Araki pauses to discuss Nazi Germany a bit, except he has all these historical events from March and September of 1939.   I’m not entirely clear on the chronology of Part 2, except that the final battle with Kars takes place in February of 1939, so none of these things have happened yet.  

But the point still stands.    Hitler wants Nazi Germany to rise above mankind, just as Kars seeks his own kind of supremacy.   And like Kars, the Nazis are interested in the Red Stone of Aja as a possible path to greater power.  

Everybody spends the night at some Swiss inn, until Kars shows up and uses his hyper-senses to detect how many men are in their room.   Then he slashes through the wall with that blade he sprouts out of his forearm, killing them all with one attack.   

Except for their commander, who has the Stone.   Kars is confused, because he sensed the number and location of everyone in the room, but somehow he missed this last guy, because he’s got no body heat.  

And Joseph barges in just in time to find out that this dude is Stroheim, the Nazi officer who blew himself up to stop Santana.  Somehow he’s alive, and also a cyborg, which is why Kars couldn’t detect him.  

Kars only wants two things: To capture the Aja Stone, and to kill Joseph Joestar.    He says that he can’t afford to spare a Ripple User powerful enough to slay Esidisi, but Joseph wonders if Kars is motivated by a desire to avenge his comrade, rather than any sort of cold tactics.    Wammu had called dibs on fighting Jojo, but he’s in Greece at the moment, and Kars is in no mood to wait.   

But Stroheim insists on tackling Kars himself, as his cyborg body was specifically designed using the information gleaned from studying Santana.   He’s strong enough to rip out pieces of Kars’ flesh, and he’s armed with a big-ass machine gun.  He tells Joseph not to pity him, because he’s proud to become this living tribute to German technology.  

What I want to know is: How did Stroheim survive Mexico without Joseph knowing about it?  He was there when that grenade went off, after all.   Maybe Stroheim landed some distance away, where Joseph wouldn’t have thought to look for him.    But how did Stroheim’s men find him?  

Anyway, Kars is not impressed, and he cuts Stroheim in half with his “light mode”, which is just the blades in his arms.   They seem to glow, but it’s actually just reflected light from the complex patterns in the blades.   From the sidelines, Joseph is unnerved by Kars’ ability, because he doubts that he could block or avoid those blades, even with the full power of his Hamon energy.   

As for Stroheim, he had no idea that Kars could do anything like this.   I don’t know, are arm-blades really that big a deal?   Wammu’s powers seem a lot cooler, and Esidisi’s “flame mode” looks pretty scary, even if it only melts stuff.   Still, it’s enough to beat Stroheim.    Kars mocks him for thinking that he and Santana were on the same level.   Kars considered Santanta a “novice”, like a “weak puppy.”   That’s an interesting choice of words, since we just saw Kars save the life of a weak puppy earilier.   Maybe that same pity was the only reason Kars kept Santana around in the first place.      As dangerous as Santana was, Kars considers him utterly useless.   

He even refers to Santana as “it.”  Maybe that’s just a mistake in this scanlation, but I dunno.   He’d probably use “it” to refer to that puppy he saved too.   And maybe this contempt explains why Kars refers to him as “Santana”, the name Stroheim gave the guy.   I always wondered why Kars didn’t use Santana’s real name, but maybe Santana never had one.  

But Stroheim’s not done just yet.   He has a UV beam built into his eyepiece, which stuns Kars long enough to make him drop the stone, and then it slides over a cliff.

Joseph and Kars race after it, but Kars is faster, because he doesn’t have to worry about slowing down before he goes over the edge.    He can survive the fall, while Joseph can’t.   So Kars figures that Joseph will try to kick him, and Joseph does throw a kick... at the snow, to distract Kars long enough for Joseph to get the Stone back.

But Kars has  blades in his legs too, and he uses one to snag Joseph and pull him over the edge of the cliff.   Joseph manages to use Hamon to grab hold of some icicles to stop his fall, but he still has to deal with Kars’ unstoppable blades, and his relentlessness.   Joseph’s whole deal is that he outsmarts his opponents by exploiting their inattentiveness.   But Kars is laser focused on getting the Aja Stone, so it’s almost impossible to catch him off-guard.

So Joseph uses that tenacity against him by holding up the Stone in the path of Kars’ attacks.   Kars wants to kill Joseph, but he doesn’t dare use his blades near the Stone.  Remember, Kars’ plan requires that specific Aja Stone because it’s the only one big enough and flawless enough to power his “Ultimate Life Form” mask.   If he damages the Stone, it won’t be suitable for his needs.   Knowing this, Joseph kicks him down the rest of the way, while he heads back up a “rope” made of Ripple-connected icicles.

Said icicles were provided by Caesar, who expected Joseph to try something like this, because he’s already learned that Joseph thinks in terms of ropes and strings.   Stroheim is astonished by their flawless teamwork.  

Below, Kars goes out of his way to adjust his fall so as not to crush a flower.   He laughs at this latest setback, because he’s just that impressed with Joseph’s resourcefulness.   Then he withdraws to try again another day.  

This whole arc surprised me when I watched the anime, because it seemed like Kars would be the final boss of Battle Tendency, but here he was fighting Joseph early.   And it wasn’t exactly an all-out fight.    They had a little footrace and Joseph used the Aja Stone to keep Kars at bay, but not much more than that.   Considering all the crazy stuff we saw from Esidisi, you’d think Kars would be much more dangerous. 

But that’s just it.    Esidisi was extremely formidable, and Joseph destroyed him with his Hamon training.    Kars lost 33% of his team in a single stroke.    All he has left is Wammu, who’s in Greece at the moment.  He simply can’t afford to take on Joseph in this situation, so he doesn’t try anything too crazy.   Both of them know his blades are powerful enough to get the job done, so he used them, but when they stopped being effective, he ran out of cards to play, so he left.    It’s not that Kars is weak, it’s just that Joseph’s gotten so much stronger.    So this fight feels like a much milder affair than the battles with the other Pillar Men so far, even though Kars is supposed to be the best one.  

And this is something else I really love about Part 2.    There’s only five villains to deal with: Straizo, Santana, Eisidisi, Wammu, and Kars.   That’s it, so it makes things pretty easy to keep up with, and it leaves room for Wammu and Kars to fight multiple times.  

Compare this with Part 3, where the Stardust Crusaders have to fight through a gauntlet of evil Stand Users as they make their way to Egypt.    I think I counted 26 bad guys in Part 3?   Somewhere in that neighborhood.    And I love Part 3, don’t get me wrong, but if Dio only had ten henchmen instead of two dozen, would it really hurt the story?  

This was something that really bugged me about Parts 4 and 5.   Would La Squadra Esecuzioni’s role in Vento Aureo be any different if they only had five guys instead of seven?    And what was the deal with that dude who lived in the transmission tower?    Most of the “villains” in Part 4 were just randos who just fought with the good guys for no particular reason. 

With Part 2, you don’t have any of that.   Five villains, and three of them only get to fight once.   That means every fight has to count, and every fight has to move the story along.  Kars isn’t going to just show up to be sociable.  He saw an opening to achieve his goal, and he went for it, only to discover his enemies were better prepared than he expected.   Now, he’ll have to wait for Wammu... 

[starsfic]

Smoke and Gold, Chapter 4: The Husband

Summary: The happy couple meet. @fosermi

AO3

-_-

Xiaotian was warm.

   That was the thing that made him wake up because last he checked, he hadn’t been in a warm place. He sat up, looking around in sleep-hazed confusion.

Instead of the windy mountaintop, he was lying in a bed. It was one of the softest things he had ever slept on, warm blankets draped over him. The room itself was one of the loveliest bedrooms he had ever seen, decorated in red and orange with braziers, holding light bulbs, lighting the space. He moved the sheets and blankets aside to reveal he was still in his wedding-funeral outfit. The wreath of flowers had been plunked on a red toned dresser.

He tiptoed out of the bedchamber to enter a sitting room. A large fireplace had a fire stoked in it, which lit and warmed the chamber. Dark red furniture had been arranged around a coffee table in front of the fireplace. There was what looked like a liquor cabinet, set up with a few bottles and glasses. Large windows, firmly shut, looked out on a huge evergreen forest. Before he could explore further, a door opened.

“Oh!” A demon stared at him. Xiaotian moved into an attack position before remembering he didn’t have a weapon. They didn’t seem to notice, stepping further inside. “I was about to see if you were awake, master.”

“...master?” Oh, right, he was supposed to be getting married.

“Yes. You’re married to the lord of this mountain range, so that makes you our new master. In any case, dinner is ready.” As if that was a cue, his stomach rumbled. A hot wave of embarrassment rolled over him.

Good to know he was going to eat before dying.

The servant didn’t say anything about his stomach, gesturing for him to follow them. WIth nothing else to do, Xiaotian followed. He was led through a hallway decorated in red, the slippers he wore doing nothing to discourage the chill of the stone floor. But the dining room he entered was just as warm as the bedroom and the chill was chased away.

“My lord hopes you’re comfortable until he gets back. Something...came up.” The servant explained as Xiaotian sat down. A tea cup was already waiting next to a teapot, steam clearly visible. “And he had to attend to it.” Before he could muster up a snarky response to that, his stomach rumbled again. A few other demons entered the room, filling the table with food.

The scent hit him like a truck, a mixture of spices and juices and...he wasn’t sure where to start. So, Xiaotian tried to keep his manners and got to work the best he could. Everything he tried was delicious and soon, hunger overcame fear.

Finally, he was full. A different servant guided him out of the room and back into what he guessed were his bridal chambers, heading to the bathroom. “I can bathe myself.” he burst out. The servant blinked but nodded, handing him soft pajamas. “Thank you.” Xiaotian mumbled out before running in and slamming the door behind him.

There was a tub. He couldn’t help but be surprised before he remembered the grandeur of everywhere else. With a sigh, Xiaotian started the water. As the tub filled with warm water, he searched for soap and stepped out of his robes. The soap he had found was peach-scented, which brought tears to his eyes.

A burst of determination filled him and he set to work. He worked on getting the oils out of his hair and scrubbed the makeup off. When he finished, he released the water and aggressively dried himself with a fluffy towel. He would go, but he wouldn’t go quietly. Xiaotian gave himself a firm nod, dressing in the orange pajamas.

Nobody was in the room when he entered. Xiaotian ignored that and stalked to the bed, sitting down with a huff to glare at the door. The room was silent.

He was going to play the waiting game again, wasn’t he?

Fine. Xiaotian puffed his chest up and waited for his-

The room went dark. He let out a yelp. It was pitch black, dark enough that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, much less the door. In a blind hope to find some source of light, his hands wandered in hopes of finding the edge of the bed. Then the door opened and closed and he froze.

He was here.

-_-

   Once the servant left with the prototype gauntlet, Red Son was forced to wait. A servant of his had been sent to collect Qi Xiaotian, but he was still needed by his mother. He found himself irritated, forced to watch with Princess Iron Fan over dinner as Sun Wukong and the pig demon employer of Xiaotian broke into a fistfight.

   “Oh, it’s better than I imagined.” she cooed, rewinding the recording. “Good job, Red Son.”

   Usually, the praise would make him happy for the rest of the evening. But the object of his desire was waiting for him and that consumed his thoughts instead. He bit down on a groan, resisting his eyes from flaming in irritation and knocking the large sunglasses hiding his eyes off his face. “Thank you, Mother. Is that all you need for tonight?” Instead of a verbal reply, she shooed him away. Red kept calm as he left the room and down the hall.

   The minute he was sure she was out of earshot, he took off. Nobody stopped him as he headed to the garage, grabbing his off terrain vehicle and taking off. He rode down the city streets before disappearing into flames. When he reformed, he was in the evergreen forest that made up the Fiery Mountains. He travelled through the woods until a complex came into view. The gates opened and he zoomed into a courtyard.

   Fiery Cloud Cave. Home sweet home.

   He parked and turned off the vehicle, heading to the grand doors that led to the main cave. They opened as he approached, a servant coming out to greet him. “Welcome back. Your groom has eaten and is waiting for you in your chambers.”

   Red managed a nod. “Good job.”

That was all he had because his thoughts zeroed in on Xiaotian. Red strode through the doors and headed through the halls until he reached the master bedroom. The bridal chamber. His room. He paused and took a deep breath. Then he opened the chamber door and closed it behind him. He found that his request had been fulfilled and pajamas were waiting for him. He dressed and then headed to the bedroom proper, opening and closing that door.

To an ordinary mortal, the room was dark as a void. He had it rigged that way, guessing from the pictures of Red Boy Xiaotian knew his face. But he didn’t know his voice. The room was dark until he released his hold over his powers, unfortunately his form as well, and the room lit up like it was day. Then he saw him .

His husband was frozen in place, staring in his direction with beautiful brown eyes. Red licked his lips, hearing his heart pound in his ears. “Hello.” he finally managed out. “How are-” That was all he managed because a pillow flew in his direction, smacking him in the face. He let out a shocked noise, grabbing it. “What was that for?!”

Xiaotian now looked pissed, blindly reaching back for another pillow. “I am not going to just sit here-” He found another pillow. “And let myself get EATEN!” That was punctuated by him throwing the pillow. It barely made it to the end of the bed.

“It didn’t-”

“I know.”

“And who said anything about eating?” Red had consumed human flesh in the past, but he was vegetarian now. He strode forward, grabbing the other piece of fluffy arsenal before getting into the bed. Xiaotian scrambled back the minute he did, his face having an expression that cut deep. “Are you scared?”

“When you’re told that a monster that threatened Heaven demanded a spouse and you are that spouse, yeah! You would be a little frightened…” His fire seemed to have died down and he curled up. Red made note to whack whatever general had announced the news. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No. I promise I’m not going to hurt you or eat you or touch you. Not unless you ask.” He gripped Xiaotian’s hand and led it to his face, allowing his fingers to map out his face. He couldn’t resist the urge to press a kiss on his wrist. A moment or two later, his husband had relaxed. “Now… tell me about yourself.” Hah, victory over the love potion and it making him desire to smooch Xiaotian senseless.

"You...want me to talk. About myself."

"Shouldn't I get to know my husband?"

"...fair."

That was how the rest of the night went. With a bit of coaxing, Xiaotian talked about himself, although their conversation soon turned to his interest in art. (Red made a mental note to get some art supplies for him.) And then he found himself being prodded about his interests. He prepared for confusion or boredom, like always.

But Xiaotian sounded interested, asking questions with innocent curiosity. Red found himself more relaxed than he could last remember. Their conversation, bouncing questions and answers off each other, lasted long into the night. It only stopped when Xiaotian yawned and he found himself pressing him to sleep. His husband submitted with a promise of “Tell me more about the truck later, okay?”

“I promise.” Red said. He waited until Xiaotian was snuggled in before he pulled some sheets out for himself. He laid down, enjoying the sight of his new husband peacefully asleep, before sleep tugged at him.

   He submitted to its embrace.

[starryknight09]

That’s not how Ironman goes out

Febuwhump Day 7: poisoning

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

Peter pulled his grey hoodie on, practically bouncing on his feet as he finished dressing.  Today was going to be the best day.  He was headed over to Ned’s this morning to work on the new Star Wars Lego set his friend had gotten for his birthday last week, and then he had plans to take MJ out to a new Mexican-Korean fusion restaurant she’d been talking about ever since it opened last month.  They’d been together for almost three months now and he still loved seeing the look on her face whenever he surprised her.

“Peter can you come here for a minute?” Aunt May called from the living room.

“Yeah!” He answered, not thinking anything of it.  He shoved his wallet in his back pocket and toed on his shoes, checking his phone for any messages before pocketing it as well.

He made a detour to the kitchen to grab an apple out of the bowl on the counter, enjoying the crunch of it as he took a huge bite before turning to find May sitting on the couch across the room.

“What’s up?” He asked, barely understandable, around a mouthful of apple.

“Come here.” May patted the couch cushion next to her.  The oddness of the invitation made him stop and focus.  He noticed a characteristic crinkling in the corner of May’s eyes, something she only did when she was worried and trying to hide it.  It was an expression he’d seen more than a few times ever since she’d discovered his vigilante identity.

“What’s wrong?” He moved to stand in front of her.

“Sit down honey.”

“No, I’m good.  I have to get going to Ned’s soon or I’m going to be late.  I promised I’d be there by noon.” He said, checking his watch for show.  The way May was acting made him want to escape.  Made him afraid.

“I need you to sit down.” May patted the space next to her again.

He had the irrational urge to whine, ‘I don’t want to.’  To stamp his feet and refuse.  Because no good news ever came from scenarios like this.  But instead of refusing, he forced his knees to bend and hesitantly sat down next to his aunt.

May reached out to hold his hands.  “Honey, I have to tell you something.”

His heart started racing.  “May, you’re scaring me.”

“You know how Tony had that fundraiser last night?”

He nodded.  Tony had invited him, but it was a stuffy black-tie event, which wasn’t really his thing, and Peter had already had a readymade excuse not to go.  He’d made plans with MJ and hadn’t wanted to disappoint her by cancelling.  Tony hadn’t minded because Peter was heading up to the cabin tomorrow to spend the weekend with him where there wouldn’t be a bunch of uptight old people milling around.

“Well,” May continued, “we’re not sure how it happened yet, but somehow someone managed to slip something into Tony’s drink.”

His stomach dropped out of his body.  No.

“Is he dead?” His voice trembled, afraid to hear the answer.  Afraid that the reason May had positioned him here was to deliver the news that his last remaining father figure was gone.

“No honey.” May reassured him and his eyes closed as he let out a sharp breath of relief.  She squeezed his hands.  “But he’s very sick, and they’re doing everything they can, but we just don’t know yet what’s going to happen.”

He bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering as tears welled up in his eyes.  This couldn’t be happening.

“Why would someone do this?” He managed to choke out the question.

“Oh honey.” May tugged him forward into a hug.  “I know.  It doesn’t make any sense.  They think it was someone from that ridiculous group.”

Peter clenched his jaw.  He knew exactly what group she was talking about.  After Tony had saved everyone, and almost died in the process, a group of zealots had become vocal about how reversing the snap had set back all the environmental progress Earth had made after losing half its population.  They hated Tony for what he’d done.  They believed life had been better before the reversal because the human race was no longer multiplying at a rate that the Earth couldn’t sustain.  Apparently, there’d been less hunger.  Less pollution.  Less war.  But infinitely more heart ache.  Peter didn’t think any of the other stuff even came close to canceling that out.

“I think we should go see him.” May suggested, rubbing his back as she held him and the tears slid down his cheeks.  “Just in case.”

In case he died.  The words went unvoiced.  The very thought that it was even a possibility made him want to scream.  Because of some hate group.  He should’ve gone to that party.  Maybe he would’ve sensed something.  Maybe his ‘Peter tingle’ would’ve caught on.  But no, he’d chosen to hang out with MJ instead.  

“Yeah.” He said, trying to get a handle on his emotions.  “Let’s go.”

“Ok.” May gave him another tight squeeze before releasing him.  “He’s at the compound.  I’ll drive.”

It’d taken months, but they’d rebuilt the compound, like some sort of symbol, bigger and better, in the same place where it’d been desecrated.  Peter usually felt some amount of awe whenever he drove up to it, but not today.  A numbness had descended upon him ever since he’d gotten in the car.  It was as if he couldn’t process any more emotion, good or bad, until he knew if Tony would be ok.  Like a kind of limbo.

The clop of his sneakers on the immaculately polished floors echoed ominously throughout the silent halls. May had tried to throw her arm over his shoulders in support on the walk in but he’d shrugged it off.  Even though he desired the comfort, he hadn’t wanted to be seen as weak by any other Avengers they might encounter.  They already looked at him like a child.

He and May rounded the corner and Peter stopped up short.  Tony’s door was at the end of the hall, and he was almost afraid to cross the remaining distance.  He didn’t want to see him hooked up to machines with wires attached and tubes coming out of him.  Seeing him like that was always hard.  The man was supposed to be larger than life, so anytime something happened where he actually appeared mortal, it was like the cosmic forces were out of sync.

“Come on baby.” May nudged him forward with a hand against his back.

Peter took a deep breath and managed to put one foot in front of the other again.  He could do this.  He had to.  He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t see Tony and something happened.  When they got to his door, Peter paused again, but he forced his hand to grip the door handle and twist it open.

“Hey kid!” Tony greeted him cheerily, sitting up in bed and not looking at all close to death.

Peter froze, not quite believing his eyes.  His gaze shot over to May, wondering if this had all been some sort of cruel trick, but she looked equally shocked.  His eyes darted back to Tony, afraid to believe it.  But the man seemed fine.  Maybe a little drawn and tired but not on death’s door like he’d been led to believe.

He took a halting step forward, not quite ready to trust it, and worried that too much hope might shatter the mirage in front of him.  

“What’s wrong Pete?” Tony frowned.

“You…you’re ok?” He asked, taking another step forward.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Tony held an arm out towards him, encouraging him to come closer.

Peter hurried over to him, grabbing Tony’s arm once he got close enough.  He was real, solid and warm

“You’re ok.” He repeated as if in affirmation.

“That’s what I said.  Try to keep up kid.” Tony smirked at him, and Peter felt his resolve crumble.  Relieved sobs bubbled up and out of him, shaking his frame.

“Shit.  Come here.” Tony pulled him into a comforting hug.  “I’m fine.  I promise I’m fine.”

A minute later Peter heard the familiar click of heels enter the room behind him, but he didn’t lift his head, still working on regaining his composure.

“Oh.” He heard Pepper say in surprise.  “Oh May.  I’m sorry.  I forgot to call you back.  As soon as I got off the phone with you Bruce figured out the antidote and an hour later Tony was fine.  I can’t believe I forgot to let you know.  I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok.  I’m sure you had a lot on your mind.” May reassured her.

“Still, that’s no excuse.  Oh sweetie I’m sorry I scared you.  It was touch and go there for awhile but Tony’s going to be fine.” Pepper placed her hand on his back.  He really didn’t want her to feel bad.  He tried to pull himself together.  Tony was perfectly fine.  He wasn’t going to die.  

Peter took a deep breath and pulled away, wiping his eyes as he sniffled.

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to fall apart.” He gave them a tight smile.  “I just—  Well, we thought you were dying.”

“Dying?  You told them I was dying?” Tony threw an accusatory look at Pepper.

She crossed her arms and raised her voice, “We thought you were dying.”

“Pfft.  It’d take more than some crazy zealot to take me out.  Don’t you know me at all honey?”

Pepper rolled her eyes.

“I mean seriously, poison?  That’s not how Ironman goes out.” Tony shook his head and then looked at him with a smirk.  “Right?”

“Right.” He agreed with a nod.

“If anything, it’ll be in a blaze of glory.”

It took every ounce of Peter’s being to not think about Thanos and Tony snapping the gauntlet, coming as close as anyone could to death.

“Yes, at the rate you’re going, you will probably blow yourself up someday.” Pepper deadpanned.

“Hey!” Tony said indignantly.  Peter couldn’t help it.  He snorted out a small laugh, the numbness and fear inside him finally melting away.

“No,” May smiled, joining in the fun, “it’s going to be—”

“Old age.” Peter interrupted, not wanting to think of any other possibility at the moment, not even in jest.

They all quieted down, and Tony looked at him, a soft smile on his face and eyes alive and twinkling.  “Yeah. Old age.  That could work.”

[anthonyed]

Kissing prompts (gosh, i love em all): 45 and buckytony?

The only thing that came into my mind when I read the prompt was: 'losing you would be my villain story' trope. So remember that ficlet where Tony was scared to hug Bucky cause he won't be able to let go? Well this is from that verse. And  I tried my best to execute it (don't know if I succeeded) and here it is:

idk how part of my reply got injected into the ask box but the link in there is click-able for the verse of the following story.

(from this list: Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.)

tw: blood, violence, mentions of body mutilation (basically a decapitated head that’s all)

-//-

Bucky’s already in the cradle when he lands; still clad in armour from neck down and he heads straight to where Helen Cho stands, manning the machine. 

“Talk to me.” He orders, not bothering with manners, voice still battle-strained and he’d apologize to her later, buy her a bouquet or something but for now -

“How is he?”

Cho looks ill when she smiles, mouth working around dull words; if she was going for reassurance, it sure looks terrible on her face. 

“Pending on the prognosis. Multiple organ laceration; I just drained his pericardial sac and stabilised his heart -,”

Tony grabs her by the shoulders, he doesn’t want to hear what more medical words she has to throw on him. He says what he needs her to do: “Save him.”

She opens her mouth, and he can already hear bullshit coming forth, “I can’t guarantee you anything at this point. I’m doing my part, his body is doing it’s -,” she wavers, her lashes flutter and then something shifts in her. 

“Mr Stark. You have to understand -,” she starts in a practiced cold tone and Tony, he cannot deal with this now.

Gauntleted fingers dig into her lab-coat clad frame, and he shakes her once before they’re quickly intercepted. 

Natasha’s cool gaze is fixed on him steadily even if she’s holding onto Helen Cho, six feet away from him. There’s someone arresting his arms from behind but he doesn’t care who, doesn’t put up a fight; that’s not why he’s here.

He needs Cho to know her priority. “I don’t care what it costs.” he looks into her eyes and tells her. This is between them and they both know what he means; there’s a vial of perfected extremis in the vault behind the wall. “I need you to save him. Do you understand?”

Helen Cho blinks, comprehension dawning upon her before she suddenly looks sick; lips pressed tight like she’s holding back her words from him. Good, Tony doesn’t want to hear her preach ethical violation to him. But he keeps looking at her until she agrees; because she has to. She has to know that he needs Bucky alive. No bargains in that matter.

Finally, she nods, quickly once. “I’ll do my best.”

And Tony leaves her to it, putting all his trust on her and he doesn’t wait. He has somewhere else to be. He shakes off the hands holding him back, and it’s Steve; his voice echoes his march; a pleading cry of “Tony, don’t!” 

-

Two hours later, he’s standing on the rubbles of what a HYDRA’s bunker used to be. The fat plop of dripping blood onto a blown out wooden plank under his feet slowly stirs him back to reality; wiping his vision off of its angry red and he computes the extent of the damage he’d done with a strange detachment.

For a minute, he stares at his right hand where the blood is dripping from; relaxed in posture, gauntlet still on, fingers fisting around a clump of hair from a decapitated head of someone whose face he recognized flashing on his HUD earlier that day. When he scanned for the bastard who fired that lethal shot. 

Good, he thinks. Good riddance.

His right palm whirs, flashing warning in blue and the satisfaction from blowing that head is -

He pulls in a breath and looks skyward. Directs energy into his thrusters and he flies to another bunker.

-

And another.

-

Three days after, he plugs in the armour to charge in a shitty hotel and stares at himself in the mirror; blank face, shirtless with a bloody abdomen and a bruised shoulder. 

They should have captured him long ago, he realises. He’s been going rogue all on his own, disconnected himself from the team and Rhodey and Pepper and he knows for sure that he’s breaking more law than he’d memorised twenty years ago. Somebody should have caught him; HYDRA or someone from WSC. Maybe even one of his teammates.

And yet here he is, still a free man, staining borrowed towels red from his first flesh wound since he started this vengeance streak.   

Somehow, that just fuels him to keep going.

-

Steve finds him underground in Kazimierz and he isn’t even surprised.

“I was wondering when you’d come,” he says, ready to fight, expecting an arrest. 

Steve, however, looks at him all pinched and that is even worse. Tony wants to tell him, no. Don’t show me that face. But he doesn’t have to because that look vanishes soon after and Steve nods tightly.

“If you’re doing this,” he says, “I’m coming with you.”

-

In retrospect, maybe Steve follows to keep him in line; if they catch someone alive, he’d say, “Let me deal,” and Tony lets him. He’d already destroyed the guy responsible, here forth if Steve wants to play saint and ease their death, he can go ahead and do it. Tony doesn’t care.

-

Two days later, he finds out what actually Steve wants. Catches Tony numb in the process of washing dirt and the inside of someone’s cheek - from when he’d hooked his fingers too deep - under his fingernails when Steve leans against the bathroom door and says,

“Come home, Tony.”

He turns off the tap and wipes his hands dry with a towel. There’s still something under his fingernails, unwashed, but he ignores that to ask Steve, “Is he awake?” 

Steve couldn’t give him a straight answer so, Tony chucks the towel on the counter, walks past him into the room they're sharing for the night and nods at the bathroom when Steve turns to look at him. “It’s all yours now. Unless you’re leaving, then I suppose you’d prefer to shower at home.”

He tears open the bag of chips, guzzles down two bottles of water before he shoves a handful of bland chips into his mouth. He knows Steve’s still looking, but he avoids his gaze, anyway. Keeps shoving more chips into his mouth even though he’s close to choking and only when he hears the bathroom door close, he stops.

-

They burn the fifth centre to the ground and leave to Chukotsky District for the sixth.

They share a room in another motel that night, vodka warming their insides and Tony shares a piece of him with Steve. 

“I get it now.” He tells him, eyes burning as he stares at his bare feet intensely.

“What?”

Blinking hard, he empties his plastic cup down his throat and looks up. “Why you’d kill for him,” he smirks. Not an ounce of feeling under his skin. 

Steve’s eyes flicker in the dim orange light. He says, “Not for the same reason as yours, no,” and he looks like he got something more to say following that. But whatever it is, Tony doesn’t hear it. 

-

The next morning, he wakes up to Natasha at the foot of his bed, Steve still fast asleep in his own.

She rubs a thumb on the inside of his ankle and joins them for the last bunker. 

“Come home,” she says later, wiping a bloody dagger in the inside of her left sleeve, watching grey clouds burst into the white sky next to Tony and she tells him, “He’s awake, you know. Asking for you.”

-

He’s stuffing clothes into his duffel bag, but hesitates when he’s about to pull the zipper. Not far from him, Steve pauses in rolling his socks. Natasha offs the TV; they’re watching him - both of them - have been watching him since they returned from that bunker.

Tony’s hands shake, and he buries one in his hair. “I’m not coming,” he tells them.

“Why?” Natasha cocks her head curiously. 

Steve plops heavily down on his bed. Its frame creaks. “Tony,” he begins, but Natasha’s fluid movement from the foot of his bed to Tony’s side, stops him. 

Tony’s knees buckle and when he sinks, she goes down with him; leans her head on his shoulder, drapes an arm over and she fills his sense with sweet strawberry smell while Steve looks wearily from across him. 

Tony keeps his eyes fixed on him, his thoughts on the sweet taste of Natasha’s scent on his tongue and he says, “He almost died because of me.”

Steve frowns, scrunching the socks into a ball in his hands, and he corrects Tony stiffly, “He took the hit for you. It was his choice.” 

“Well, he shouldn’t have!” Tony yells.

Natasha’s hand is soft on his cheek when she turns him around to face her. “You would have done the same,” she murmurs, levelled and calm, close to his ear. 

Steve’s jaw is clenched hard, but his words are soft. “We protect what we love, Tony.”

Blinking back hot tears, Tony looks away from both of them and grits out, “He’s an idiot.”

Steve snorts. Natasha presses a smile into his temple, and she suggests, “Maybe he’d like to hear that from you.”

-

Returning home after a week and a half should feel relieving but all he could think is about Bucky and the last time he saw him; bloody in his arms in Central Park and then lifeless in the cradle, and he couldn’t help the anxiety that boils from his chest to the back of his throat. 

That in itself buries his desire to check on Bucky, see for himself how he’s doing; make sure he’s all right.

“I’ve got to answer Pepper,” he blurts out, already stepping away from them; separating himself, and Natasha’s frown and Steve’s disappointed gaze accompanies him all the way to the workshop where he collapses on the couch.

“How’s he doing?” He asks into the throw pillow that smells like Bucky. “Friday?”

“Sergeant Barnes is healing well, boss. Although, he’d do better if he sees you.”

Bullshit. He doesn’t tell her.

“Did Dr Cho use the extremis?” He asks instead, pulse bursting through his arteries. 

When Friday says, “No, boss. There was no need for that,” he buries his head into the pillow and breathes Bucky in deeply; relief spreading like a balm under his breastbones.

“But boss,” Friday carries on, “Sergeant Barnes asked for you.” 

Before she could say more about that, he promptly mutes her.

-

Maybe he’s a coward. Maybe he’s afraid if he sees Bucky, he’d be accused to be the cause of his near death experience.

Or maybe he’s terrified when he asks why did you do that, Bucky would look at him like he’s an idiot, and say, “Because I love you, that’s why.” and Tony -

Tony knows he couldn’t handle hearing that. His heart would shatter into a million pieces.

So, maybe he’s a coward. Maybe what he’s really afraid of is breaking his own heart - call it a primitive reaction. He is a primate in DNA after all.

-

“Boss, Miss Potts is asking for you.”

“Tell her I’m busy inventing something that could triple her paycheck.”

“Boss.”

“What?”

“Sergent Barn-,”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, but he’s asking for -,”

“Mute.”

-

Maybe he’s running away.

And maybe he’s bad at it.

-

“Jesus.” he jumps, well past midnight, a few days after he’d returned, in the penthouse kitchen, in the middle of his supply raid (because Pepper pulled her rights and cut direct deliveries to the shop).

He’d calculated the risk, knew there was a 95% chance of him being caught by the very person he’s running away from. That’s why he’d planned his approach, carefully ran over it multiple times, asked Friday over and over to make sure no one was in the kitchen.

Should have counted in the fact that his AI is in love with her Sargeant Barnes.

The same Sargeant who asks calmly, “Any reasons you’ve been avoiding me?”

Tony clears his throat, drops his hand from where he’d clutched his chest. “Not in particular," he tries for nonchalance.

He didn’t turn on the light, but the silver glint of Bucky’s metal arm is unmistakable; tracing trajectory motion of his leap from the countertop to in front of Tony, infusing heat from their sudden proximity.

“I wanted to see you,” Bucky says, eerily flat, head tilted sideways as his blue-grey eyes study Tony from top to bottom then up. “But you refused.”

Throat clamping around a lump, Tony looks down at his empty coffee mug. At their bare feet and then at the cold tiles they’re standing on. He avoids the topic. “How are you doing?” He asks instead, looking up with false cheeriness. 

Bucky doesn't hesitate before he answers, “Better if I’d seen you.”

And Tony has to laugh at that. Jesus Christ, just how stupidly cheesy is this guy? Except he feels his cheeks warm, and he steps aside to get away with an airy, “Well now that you have, I hope you feel better.”

Bucky doesn't let him (of course he doesn't); blocks his path and his gaze bore into Tony when their eyes meet. Trying to pry something only he knows what and Tony, exhausted after two consecutive sleepless nights, lets him. 

If not for an excuse to allow himself drink in the sight of the man who took a laser to his chest for him and almost died. The man he'd lost his sanity for, killed for and then ran away from because he is a coward. 

His eyes fall on the lower left side of Bucky’s pectoral. If he looks harder, he thinks he could see a dark patch seeping inside out like spreading ivy. He shakes his head to clear his vision.

Bucky seems to read him well. He takes the mug away and catches his empty hand before bringing it to his chest. Then he places it over exactly where that wound had been last week; bleeding viscous blood all over them and when Tony looks up at him, desperate and scared like he was that day, he assures, “I’m fine. Still alive.”

And then, “C’mere,” he tugs. Pulling Tony closer, pressing his palm harder over his shirt clad chest; warm where they touch, and he asks, “Can you feel that? It’s still beating in there.”

And it is - His heart is. All healed and pumping serum tainted blood through his vessels; keeping him alive like he hadn’t been gasping for breath in Tony’s lap just last week. 

“Fuck.” Tony exhales.

Bucky takes it as a cue to pull him into his chest. Wraps him tight in a hug, and he buries his nose in Tony’s hair. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Tony tries to inhale but ends up choking on air. 

“I know.” Bucky repeats. Pressing lips to his forehead and then temple.

When he finds his voice, Tony fists the fabric overlying his left breast, head buried in warmth and he lets out a pained growl. “Don’t ever do that again.”

But Bucky, of all things, chuckles like he'd just heard a joke. “Can’t promise that, doll,” He drawls, grinning like the idiot he is. “If it happens another time, I’ll do the same thing all over again. Gotta protect my best fella,” he winks.

And it drives Tony so mad that he shoves at the man's chest and glares at him, venomous. Fingers shaking in clenched fists, locked inside white knuckles and he spits, “Fuck you.” At Bucky.

For a second, Bucky’s stunned. But something flashes in his eyes and he barks out a laugh soon after. 

"Yeah," he snorts. “Kid you not, I would really like you to.” 

And that - That shocks Tony into a stop; eyes blinking wide with disbelief, he stares at the man in front of him. 

“What?” Bucky laughs, fingers raking through his long hair as he shakes his head and when he looks up again, whatever he sees in Tony, it makes him square up, and he exhales in a rush. 

“Jesus, Tony. Don’t tell me you still don’t know how I feel about you. Choked on my blood and all I could do was look at you like you hung the moon - I saw that footage. The one they aired in the news? Sam showed me that thing, and Hell. The whole world saw how I feel for you baby, and you’re standing here looking at me like you got no clue."

He closes in then, urgent, and he catches Tony’s head in both hands; cradles his face like something precious and leans down to look into Tony's eyes.  

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart," he pleads. “Tell me you know how you make me feel. Tell me you know, I’m yours.”

And Tony, refusing to be shaken in the face of hopeful eyes and gentle hands - one ice cold while the other blood warm - grabs the back of Bucky’s head in a harsh fist and asks him roughly, “And you? Do you know how I feel about you?”

Bucky blinks then, a slow smile spreads across his face, eyes twinkling with sadistic joy and he grins, “Stevie told me what you did. Said you didn’t spare even one.”

“All of them,” Tony breathes, lungs blooming fresh with the smell of Bucky this close, this warm and he could taste his scent on his tongue with every breath he takes. 

Shivering, he glides his hand from Bucky's nape to the side of his neck, and he yanks him close until their foreheads press. “They can’t touch you now," he whispers into the small space in between them.

“Jesus, doll.” Bucky chuckles, dry and rough, palms pressing into Tony’s cheek, tilting his face up so their breaths intermingle and their noses bump, and the first brush of their skin that near is electrifying. Like stepping on a live wire; sizzling straight into the veins under their skins and it propels them to mash their mouths together in a desperate kiss. 

Giddy as they are with something vile and raw, they didn't care if their teeth clashed in the rush; painful and sharp, or if their kisses were too messy and wet. Their heads are too heady with the taste of their love and they feed it into each other’s mouths, drink it out of them and fuck - They laugh through it all. 

At one point, Tony yanks at Bucky's hair and hums, pressing harder in and Bucky presses equally hard in return. Neither wanting to give; only take, take and take until there’s nothing left and then more.

And they're greedy for contact, starving for each other. Trembling with wants so violent that it bursts through their pores; spilling like white hot lava, burning everywhere their skin touch and maybe they knock several furniture over -Tony doesn’t know for sure. 

He’s too busy getting lost in Bucky and the biting way he kisses, the unforgiving way he squeezes Tony’s ass. Too busy pulling him by the collar, fingers fisting in his hair as he nips back harder, hissing and groaning ‘bedroom’ into Bucky’s mouth, and ‘this way’ as they stumble across the living room, stubbing toes on coffee tables and chairs, stopping to wince and laugh before resuming kissing even more passionately than before. 

Eventually, after they knock over a vase and watch it break into thousand pieces, Bucky hoists him up and walks them to the bed, and it may be emasculating if he was in a different state of mind. But right then, head spinning from Bucky and only Bucky everywhere, Tony lets him have it. 

-

Later, he watches the sun spill over Bucky’s closed eyes, spread from his sleep-slack face to his naked torso and sheet tangled legs and he reaches out a hand to press it over Bucky’s left pectoral. 

Focuses in on the steady beat behind the ribs, listens to the sound of Bucky’s heart work its job; pumping life into his bones and eyes, and spreading pink to his lips and occasionally - like last night - blotting that lovely shade of red from his face to his neck and - 

It’s staggering how close he’d come to lose that; how close Tony had come to lose his mind with that.

Hours earlier, with kiss-swollen lips and sex mussed hair, Bucky had kissed every one of his fingertip and whispered, “Turned you into a murderer didn’t I?”

Tony had combed his falling fringe back with his free hand and easily admitted that, “Losing you would evidently serve to be my villain story. No doubt in that.”

Right now though, feeling Bucky more than alive under his palm, Tony tips his slack jaw close and kisses him good morning.

[thatvixenchick]

AUgust Day 20 - Single Parents

Spideypool from Marvel requested by Anon

It wasn’t necessarily unusual for Black Cat to show up unannounced on Peter’s doorstep. It was, however, unusual for her to be holding a toddler.

She claimed that the child was Peter’s (or at least, it was his name she put on the birth certificate) and asked him to watch the kid while she attempted to lose the people chasing her after a heist gone wrong. Peter didn’t necessarily believe that the little boy (Nick) was his, but he knew what it was like to suddenly lose his parents and fear being taken by foster care. Aunt May and Uncle Ben had stepped in. Now it was Peter’s turn.

He has some caveats, though. Nick deserved a normal life, and it was clear that Felicia wasn’t giving up her night job and was only getting into more trouble. If the criminal organization didn’t catch her, the cops would. Nick didn’t need to be involved in that. Black Cat argued that Spider-man’s enemies were worse than hers.

They came to an agreement. Black Cat would turn over all parental custody to Peter. In return, Peter would quit being Spider-man in order to provide a stable life for the kid and protect him from any possible harm that both their old enemies targeted him with. And so, the deal was made, and Peter was a single father with a two year old son overnight.

Thank goodness for Aunt May that first year. Peter wouldn’t have survived without her. Eventually, he fell into the groove of parenthood and even landed a job as a teacher in order to better work around Nick’s school schedule. They would sit at the table each night while Nick did homework and Peter graded papers. Life was simple those first few years.

And then middle school happened, and Nick downloaded TikTok. Why videos of him dancing behind Peter’s back when dinner was being made were popular, Peter couldn’t fathom. He muttered about Vine a few times, but Nick recorded that, too, and it became his most popular upload. To make matters worse, his semi-TikTok fame proceeded to make Nick the most popular boy in school.

Peter would never admit to staring at a wall and drinking some nights as he processed Nick’s desire to join the football team. He had prepared his whole life to handle bullies, but no, Nick was smart, sociable, and popular. Peter was unprepared.

Then, at long last, Nick came to Peter for help. Poor Nick didn’t know what to do about this new kid at school! Brash, loud, obnoxious, and single-mindedly determined to ruin all of Nick’s best TikTok recordings. The little terror’s name? Ellie.

Ellie had her own TikTok channel with her father, and after moving to the area, she was determined to be the highest ranking TikToker in the school district, a title so far maintained by Nick. Well, Nick wasn’t going down without a fight, and if Ellie’s dad could star in her videos, then Peter could step up to the plate as well!

They started small with Nick teaching Peter dances, and then Peter pushing a little spider power into it to go from awkward to amazing over the course of 30 seconds. Ellie retaliated with her and her dad, Wade, dressing as ninjas and doing parkour across playgrounds. Not to be outdone, Peter did a response video of the same moves done across rooftops. Nick was beside himself with joy that his dad could actually be cool. The friendly competition had the whole school talking about it, and multiple teachers banned even the mention of the word TikTok in their classrooms.

Peter’s own classroom decided he was the coolest teacher alive and offered to help him with further videos. As it turned out, he would need that help. Wade wasn’t a quitter and started issuing direct challenges to Peter. How many kids can hang off a weightlifting bar before you drop to a knee? How fast can you eat the monster pizza at Joe’s Pizza Shack? Can you do THIS video editing challenge - or this one - or this one? Can you learn this entire dance routine? Can you balance your kid in the air on one finger?

Okay, Peter might have been called into a meeting with the principle over that last one, but at least Nick thought it was awesome.

Things were settling down when some fan requested on Ellie’s channel to pull a prank. Now, Peter had never met Ellie and her dad in person. He worked at the high school and both kids were still in middle, so how Wade figured out where Peter lived (something he was careful about anyone knowing due to any possible threats on Nick) was baffling. He knew it was Wade and Ellie, though, because both had a horrible sense of humor, and Peter’s lawn, porch, driveway, car, and ROOF were covered in mugs.

The video uploaded that evening with the title card, “It’s a bit muggy outside.”

Peter’s classroom was ready to retaliate and all of them shouted varyingly terrible pranks the moment he walked through the door. However, the auto club had an idea, especially considering one of them had a little cousin who lived down the street from Ellie. Peter knew he shouldn’t encourage his students like this, but cleaning up those mugs had been a declaration of war. Peter wouldn’t admit it, but he was also a little angry that Wade had managed to cover his roof in mugs without spidey sense going off at all.

So it was that Wade’s phone pinged with a notification of Nick’s new upload. It was a slow zoom in of the high school’s roof. Where Wade’s car was. It zoomed in closer on the faded Deadpool bumper sticker.

Wade ran outside in a panic to see his car sitting right where he left it. Nevertheless, he drove to the high school to see this trick with his own two eyes. There it was. A perfect replica of his car that the auto club had scavenged, painted, and constructed on the roof. Wade figured since he was here, why not bust in on Peter’s class to throw down the gauntlet?

Well, that (and the car on the roof) had them both sitting in the principal's office, which Wade felt was unfair since his kid didn’t even GO here. They received a long lecture about being more responsible, and being adults, and things like this shouldn’t get so out of hand, and there was a CAR on the ROOF. Peter argued that it had been a worthwhile team project for the auto club, but the principal wasn’t having it.

Wade and Peter left the school that afternoon with tails tucked between their legs. When Peter opened his mouth to call a truce, Wade asked for a date. Stunned, Peter agreed with knee jerk instinct. Ellie and Nick, being sworn enemies, were not a fan of this development. Their TikTok fandoms were, however. Peter recorded a seven second video of their date where he looked dead into the camera and said, “do it for the vine” before kissing Wade.

#PxW was now trending.

Honestly, this prompt could take off from here as a cute romcom ending. OR we could proceed to the action hero ending version:

The mugs TikTok allowed Felicia’s old enemies to track down her son. They waited until Wade and Peter were on a date, Ellie and Nick begrudgingly staying under the same roof with a babysitter. When the hired guns arrived, they immediately threatened the poor babysitter in order for Nick to follow along without a word. Ellie chose that moment to walk in on them. They asked who she was, she said Nick’s brother, they decided to take her as well — just in case.

All according to Ellie’s plan. She activated her hidden panic button. Being the daughter of Deadpool and already kidnapped once, she and Wade were no stranger to taking precautions. This prompts Wade and Peter to don the suits once more to go rescue their kids.

[chimie-chat]

Open When...

Chapter 2: ... You’re Frustrated

(Read Ch1)

Just shut up!” Robin chucked a batarang with full force, the weapon barely passing by Nightwing’s head before striking the cave wall behind him, the blade wedging itself into the stone. The young teen was seething, anger flowing off of him as he glared at his older brother through his mask. 

The outburst had drawn the attention of the others in the cave as well. Cassandra and Duke, who had been enjoying post-mission snacks, paused mid-cucumber sandwich to turn their heads. Even Alfred, who had been passing around a tray of much needed coffee, halted what he was doing, more likely than not to avoid becoming the victim of a runaway blade. The only person who didn’t turn was Bruce ー of freaking course he didn’t ー who was inputting notes into the mission file at the main computer. 

Dick raised his hands in defence. “Woah there. Damian, calm downー” 

“No!” The thirteen year old ripped his mask off, before slamming it to the ground. “I didn’t do anything wrong! You know I didn’t. They know I didn’t!” He gestured towards the other member of Batman Incorporated, this sorry excuse for a family. “So why the hell can’t you just admit I did a good today?”

“There’s always room to improve, Damiaー”

“Improve, my ass!” He grit his teeth together. This was ridiculous. It had been a simple mission; pop into a warehouse, beat up some drug smugglers, turn them in to the proper authorities. Easy fucking peasy. He's gone, he followed orders perfectly. He didn't step out of line, didn't cross boundaries, even when it would have been so easy to. He was a perfect Robin today. Which meant this absurd lecture he was getting right now was not only out of line, but downright insulting. "What more could you possibly want from me, Grayson? I did everything you asked tonight, with zero complaints, and a miniscule margin of error. Just admit that I did good, and leave me alone!"

"Damian, it's not that simple."

"Like hell it is!" The teen snarled. He tore his gauntlets off his arms, throwing them both to the ground. Maybe it would prove a point. Maybe not. That was unimportant at this moment. Damian glared up, meeting his brother's eyes with a scowl on his face, before deciding this wasn't worth it. He knew he was in the right. "Forget this."

He didn't bother to stick around when Dick called after him. He didn't bother to see if his father was reacting in any way. Damian just left. He stormed out of the cave, as seemed to be the routine, fuming from the ears as he all but crashed his feet through the oak floorboards of the manor. Part of him secretly hoped he'd run into another one of his adoptive siblings so he could pick a fight. God, that's what he needed right now. He needed a fight. He needed to hit something; to smash something. He needed to grab his sword and turn every shrub and tree on this blasted estate into wood chips. Instead, Damian settled for slamming his bedroom door shut.

"Aaaaaaarg!" He let out a scream, and paced around the space. Part of his uniform rapidly flying all over the carpet, landing in random pieces of furniture, before he was left in nothing but his underwear. While the burst of anger hadn't exactly calmed him down, slipping into silk pajamas helped. Only slightly, but help was help. "Stupid Grayson." He muttered under his breath as he flung himself onto that king-sized bed. 

This sucked. 

Contrary to popular belief, Damian didn't like being angry all the time. It was exhausting. The chronic issue was that other people were simply infuriating, always catching his temper, setting him off in all the worst says. He was sick of it. 

By chance, be it out of a need for comfort, or the desire for a better way to breathe than face shoved into an overstuffed down pillow, the fourteen year old turned his head to the side, letting his eyes scan across his room; over furniture, his own art on the walls, until it eventually landed on his desk. More specifically, a colorful wooden box that was kept neatly tucked into the back corner of his desk. 

No. No it was stupid. There’s no way this could help…

Damian pushed himself up off his bed. This was ridiculous. He stepped over his desk, pulling the box closer to the edge and flicking the clasp open. He opened the lid and started flipping through the pile of letters his friend had left for him. 

Angry? No.

Crying? Definitely not.

Offended, embarrassed, hurt.

He didn’t know why he was even bothering, because there was truly no way there would be a letter forー

‘Open When… You’re frustrated’

Huh… That was unexpected. 

Damian took the letter and went back over to his bed, climbing into it and making himself comfortable before cutting the envelope open.

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

Hey Dami! What’s up buddy? You doing ok? Well… I guess probably not, huh? I don’t know what happened or nothing but I’m whatever it is is bugging you. And you know what? That’s pk ok. Sometimes you just got to let yourself feel all the crummy, upset, nasty stuff for a minute, and just let yourself be mad.

Dad tells me that when he gets all fustra frustrated that he’ll go for a fly around the world. I do that too now that I can fly! Before I could fly I couldn’t do that though. When Mom gets upset she usually starts reading those girl magazines from the grocery store. I think the trick is to just do something that calms you down! Something that makes you forget everything else in the world.

What makes you feel better, Damian? Other than training because I think you need to do something other than punching and sword fighting. Also… Usually you get frustrated after fights or missions that don’t go the way you want them to go so that probably wont help too much anyways. Maybe you need some ideas. I know you like music, and you like painting, and you like your animals. So maybe if you think about those three things then it will help you.

Did ya think of something? I hope so. I hate it when you’re upset.

Take a deep breath. Relax your shoulders. Let yourself be not happy for a bit, then go do something fun. You’ll be alright soon. I know you will.

You’re best pal,

Jon

P.S. Try not to take it out on people you care about. 

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

Damian let out a breath, letting his arm fall to the side, taking the letter with it. He stared up at the ceiling, letting his brain just think everything over for a minute. As much as he loathed to admit it, Jon was right. He needed to get out of his head space for a moment. Damian let his eyes fall shut, and just�� Well, he did what jon suggested. He focused on his breathing, letting his lungs fill with air, holding it for a little longer than he normally would, and letting it out. 

Something to do… Something to do… What could he do?

He let out a sigh, rolling inwards towards the center of the bed, and looked at the letter in his hand, before letting his eyes fall straight. They tuned in to his violin, hanging delicately from it’s wooden stand.

That would work.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

After leaving the Inn, a group of heroes led by Sam Wilson headed to the Town Museum. It was there that the items & weapons that had been confiscated by the town were inventoried along with a fragment of the Reality Stone. Things couldn’t be too easy of course, and the group ran into U.S. Agent and Elektra. There was no time to waste. The mission was simple: get your gear and get out. Town Hall was waiting.

These events come AFTER the INN and BEFORE the HOSPITAL and TOWN HALL.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

MATT MURDOCK: Matt entered the museum first, the rest of the group filing in after him. There wasn’t exactly a welcoming party at the door as one might have expected, so things took on an eerie quiet for the time being, as if Zemo’s cohorts were spiders, waiting for them to stumble into their web. Matt blinked and Elektra’s alternate face flashed behind his eyelids. He swallowed harshly, unsure of how the encounter was about to go down, but eager to get things going either way. “What’s the plan here, Sam — ?”

SAM WILSON: “We get in, we get out stuff and we get out. Seems easy, but, I’m gettin’ the feeling that nothing is here. My guess is they’re going to need all the help they can get at the Town Hall.”

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: The town was a facade that had shattered. Chaos was eating its way out of the cracks and running rampant on the streets. The inmates of Pleasant Hill had come back in full force. The former sheriff had tried to intervene before she had felt the shiver run down her spine as well. Still clad in her officer uniform, Zemo’s request to play guard at the Museum had been indulged only because she wanted to see who was going to show up. One shoulder resting against the wall of the vault, the assassin watched the supposed heroes trickle in. Better her to see them than Walker or Bullseye. “Theft is still illegal in Pleasant Hill.” A wolves smile appeared on her face. “More or less.”

MATT MURDOCK: “Elektra,” Matt gasped, the name falling past his lips without his consent. She had been missing this entire time, and his search had been fruitless, but here she was, playing sheriff in this fucked up Westview/Stepford hybrid. Unaware if she too had been woken up from the memory of her false past, Matt refused to speak up, so as to not cause any more trouble than they already had to deal with.

STEVE ROGERS: Steve wasn’t familiar with either individual dressed in red, but if Sam was willing to work with them, they had to be assets. At Elektra’s comment, though, Steve’s eyes lingered on her briefly. “Let’s just be sure.” Steve said. If it turned out there was nothing there, then at least they could cross it off the list. “I’m gonna spread out, start looking.” and with that he broke off to find whatever it was a piece of a reality stone looked like.

GWEN STACY: Feeling incredibly naked, Gwen followed closely behind Steve. “Where do you think they hide alien life forms?”

STEVE ROGERS: Steve glanced at Gwen from his peripheral before his eyes returned to scanning the area as they walked. “Don’t know...—but in my experience, after your first alien or two y’kinda just know one when you see ‘em.” cosmic forces included. “They don’t really blend in.” a beat “Unless they’re skrulls.”

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: “Matthew.” The name was said quietly, fondly. Holding both hands out in front of her, the device that Zemo’s lackey Fixer had created to counteract the Reality Stone hummed. Returned to the red and black uniform she had entered the town in, Elektra approached. “They’re going to get attacked, you know. Zemo told John Walker to make himself at home, be territorial.”

GWEN STACY: “It’s a symbiote,” Gwen elaborated even though he hadn’t asked. She was pretty sure she’d never actually sustained a conversation with him before, but Miles and Cindy weren’t there.  Symbiotes responded to sound. That was known. It seemed too risky to attempt a whistle though, so Gwen just looked around for a jar or something of the kind.

MATT MURDOCK: Matt froze as Elektra's appearance shifted back to the one he was much more familiar with. A mixture of relief and worry left a sour feeling in his stomach. This was all coming to a close, and soon. And by their luck, things would likely get messy. "I think they can hold their own against Walker. It's Zemo I'm concerned about. We can't let him go through with whatever he's planning, Elektra. It could be disastrous."

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: She shook her head, dark hair swinging. “Zemo is a megalomaniac, Matthew. You’ve faced those before, no? I have no desire to be on the losing side of this. The stakes are too high. There’s a vault in the middle of the museum behind a portrait of a star. That’s where the  Stone fragment is. It’s what Zemo wants but he can’t have.” Dark lips tugged downwards. “I missed you.” Real? Fake? A bit of both.

STEVE ROGERS: “What’s a symbiote-?” Steve started to ask but before he could finish, something came hurling out of nowhere. The first one whizzed by him, hurling straight for Sam. Steve’s head whipped back around to search for the source, activating the vibranium gauntlets strapped to his wrists that T’Challa had given him. Instead he had just enough time to throw his arm up and block the second object flung in their direction. It bounced off his shield gauntlet and ricochet right back to its owner: “Walker.” Steve said.

JOHN WALKER: So he’d been stripped of the Cap title and shoved in a prison — turned inside out with the face of someone else just to have the Avengers show up and try to cause more problems than already existed. They didn’t know when to stop making things worse, so he wasn’t surprised to see Sam—maybe a little surprised to see Rogers, though. Whoever the hell else was with them. “Traitor.” Walker said, regarding the former Captain. “What are you doing here, Sam? Go home. You don’t belong here. None of you do.”

MATT MURDOCK: Matt took a few steps backwards, his own expression having yet to betray his true feelings. He had to get this information to Sam - or Steve - or whoever else would be there to listen. The search for missing weaponry and armor had stretched out to neighboring rooms, but Matt could just make out the beginnings of a confrontation between Walker and many others. Was Elektra allowing him to leave? It was shocking, but possible. "I have to help them - I've gotta go, Elektra --" I missed you. Matt gave no response, but his expression said otherwise.

SAM WILSON: Sam held up a hand, wincing slightly as he caught the shield with one hand and his bicep strained from the effort to stop it. “Belong here? I think I do. Got some wings with my name on ‘em, and my friends were being held against their will. You know how  that feels, don’t you?”

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: He was walking away. If he asked, she would have helped him. She didn’t know the Vault codes but it could be cracked. Elektra wanted to help, to be whole. She wasn’t a Pleasant Hill caricature anymore, but he turned and left without returning the sentiment. Matthew felt the same. Elektra had trained herself to respond to the dips of his voice and twitches of his face. Did he not trust her? Maybe. She watched his form recede before stepping back into the shadows.

JOHN WALKER: John caught the second shield when it returned to him, eyes trained on Sam. “Yeah, that’s right. I do. And what did any of you do about it besides show up late?” He asked.

SAM WILSON: “Better late than never?” Sam asked wryly. “Look, three Captain America’s. We can sort this out.”

KATE BISHOP: Unabashedly eavesdropping, Kate had listened in on Matt and Elektra and was hightailing it towards Steve and Sam. “Picture of the Star. Vault.” She spoke in a quiet rush to Sam, grabbing his arm. “The Stone.”

GWEN STACY: Gwen was going to break down the complicated facts behind sentient alien goo when shields were being thrown and she was ducking for cover. Choosing to take that moment to break off, it took a few minutes for Gwen to find a clay statue that looked like a spider. Wincing as she knocked it over, spiders spilled out from inside and quickly covered her body. There was a a moment of blackness as the symbiote reconnected with its host and Gwen left for Town Hall.

JOHN WALKER: “Look, whatever it is you think you came here for—turn around and leave. Nobody needs you here.” The world had cast him aside the second he made his first mistake amidst war. He had no reason to return to the shambled title he’d been left with after they dishonorably discharged him for avenging his best friend. “Honestly Sam, you’re walking in the light today but what about tomorrow? Eventually  you’re gonna do something they don’t like and they’ll toss you aside just like yesterdays trash. — happened to Steve.” He glanced at the former Captain. A man he’d once held so high on a pedestal. “I guess it’s true what they say — don’t meet your heroes.” He stared at Steve.

STEVE ROGERS: The muscle in steve’s jaw jumped as his teeth ground together, it wasn’t really the insult that irritated him as much as the arrogance. He had a hard time listening to men boast about things they had no idea about. “You think being a hero is a crowd at your feet and that’s your problem.” Steve said. “That’s why you were never a good Cap.”

RIRI WILLIAMS: Moving on her own, Riri had found her suit disguised as a suit of armor. The nanotech had felt cold as it responded to her wristlet and covered her skin. The light of her repulsor lit up the darkened museum until it found Sam, who was staring at an oversized painting of a falling star with Kate. “That it?” She asked, hand canon already firing up.

JOHN WALKER: Okay, that stung. The heat that burned through his cheeks then was a mixture of embarrassment and fury. “Oh, screw you—.” John replied and he flung his shield at him, using the seconds that it took Steve to deflect it to propel himself across the fifteen feet of space between them. A deafening clang rang out as they slammed into one another, vibranium meeting metal. Despite matching strength, the shock reverberated through John ten fold, practically chattering his teeth. He groaned, pushing against Rogers as he pushed back—then Steve kicked his right ankle out from under him and drove John backwards. It was a series of fists and blows between the two of them, and where Walker had youth, Rogers had experience.

KATE BISHOP: “Are you going to shoot an Infinity Stone??” Kate looked to Sam in surprised confirmation.

SAM WILSON: “It’s only a part of one.” Sam tossed out as if it made it any better.

RIRI WILLIAMS: “It’s a little more exact than that.” Riri grit her teeth. Her repulsor had a precision setting and it carefully carved out a section of the painting and vault. The lock required a code, but she let N.A.T.A.L.I.E. interface with it for a second before it clicked open. As her suit created a nano chamber, Riri carefully scooped the Stone in and secured it. “Feels kind of dumb to drag it to Zemo, so I’m going to the hospital.” Without waiting for confirmation, Riri flew out.

SAM WILSON: Finding his wings and a shield ( one that wasn’t his ), Sam nodded at Bishop. “We need to get to the Town Hall. Steve’ll follow.”

STEVE: Maybe a little part of him had wanted to hit him the first time he saw him on that TV, adorning a shield that wasn’t given to him in a uniform that no real place in this world anymore. Walker was arguably an equal match in terms of strength—he’d been trained just as well as any other soldier, but he was sloppy. He let his anger get the better of him rather than channeling it like fuel. It left him open and Steve took every shot he gave — a jab to the liver here, a blow to his kidney there. Without that healing factor, he’d be pissing blood for weeks and by the look on his face, he was starting to realize the rapid succession of Steve’s hits were a little more than it could keep up with. Steve had lived in this form for a long time—he’d spent himself to the point of total exhaustion more than he could count. he knew what it took to reach that breaking point.

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: The museum slowly emptied. Rogers finished beating the living hell out of Walker and left him to be picked up by some S.H.I.E.L.D. guards. The inmates were buzzing that Bullseye was down and Taskmaster had abandoned post. When the former Captain America vacated the premise, Elektra danced over Walker to peer into the Vault. Empty. Good. She had liberated her sai’s from a display already, but the assassin still did a check of the museum before she exited to escape Pleasant Hill.