#he would die for her kill for her shake the earth and conquer the whole essos for her approval and attention

[manderleyfire]

i was hoping you're gonna be on board cristonalicent with me *sad noises* all that repressed sexuality and false uprightness... delicious

but i am??? kinda?? like i definitely on board with him being that fanatically loyal mad dog seeking redemption at her delicate royal feet? (it seems suddenly so hard not to bring alicent's feet into conversation, lol) and yes, it's almost delightful to observe his frustrated lust and worshipful love towards ali, especially when they're both so eager to convince the audience (and each other) that they are the mother and the warrior themselves, walking the earth in mortal flesh, lol. i love how they're always SO close but still not enough, playing their parts oh just perfectly because they share but never ACT on that forbidden intimacy, which is there, right between them. exactly because of these reasons i find this ship (just like you said) delicious in their own falsehoods and hypocrisies, but it's not a lie if you believe it and both of them are ... supreme believers as we know, xddd.

here comes the 'but': that's yearning, repressed carnal desire, soft mutual understanding (aren't they both betrayed by rhaenyra?) and respect they obviously have to each other for being (it seems) the only ones who know their place and duties by heart... it only works if their relationship is gonna be as it is – pious and chaste. they want one another because they fit their parts like a glove: devoted, handsome lord commander of the kingsguard and virtuous noble queen. break those boxes and they would die from shame, guilt and self-flagellation. but alicent looooves her box, she'd never ever try to shatter it, in fact that's precisely why she's comfortable with him willing to spill blood right in front of her (she even saved him simply because he would be loyal to HER for that forever) but simultaneously she despises larys for doing the same. cole is a perfect knight, her sworn protector, who's devoted to her and to the safety of her family, so killing for alicent's sake is his duty but larys... larys kills for her with no mask to hide under (well... that's not entirely true; but let's talk about the shady strong another time, what i mean here that blood on criston's hands is dignified by his looks position while on larys' it's blindingly red red as her hair) , he sees through her and that's why she can't fully pretend with him (but she needs to pretend, always, 24/7, to herself as well, that's what the iron throne requires, that's what her son -- the king -- needs and don't forget, she's the only one who's actually capable of being a perfect daughter queen).

so yes, on the 'you're sworn to me' path their journey is on – i'm so here for this ship but on the big picture i think ali is too hot and young and messy to be admired as a saint.

[adcfan]

WARNED

He could clearly tell from the slightest wrinkle of irritation adoring the top left of her pale forehead that she is beyond annoyed. How could he blame her? After all it was him who lured the bird out of its comfortable nest in the middle of a tough night. From the height he could perceive the darker shades of her shadows dancing along the way she traced making him more curious to explore the limit of the demon’s braveness.

The edges of his lips pulled up to carve an honest smile as his eyes momentarily rested on the dagger resting against her waist that he once offered her in the middle of a battle, a year ago.

With a loud thud he made his presence noticeable startling her to the core in the process. His armor blazed a bright shade of jade green, bathed in the late moonlight that managed to get the taste of his attire. His eyes searched hers involuntarily, seeking to find any glimpse of game she or the titans might have planned to play on him. But all he could find was curiosity.

Curious? Is she really curious?    

“So, you decided to show up in the middle of a young, wanting night, far from your protective shell behalf of a demons’ call”. If it wasn’t for the mask he is wearing, she could see the imperceptible grim plastered over his face with ease. “And here I thought ravens aren’t creatures of the night”, his brows made a childish hunch testing her temper further more than she could actually take.

“What do you want?”, her voice remained cold as she tried her best to control all the urge to take him down on the very spot. His cape danced in unity with her robe as he approached her a little more without her noticing for a very long second. “Aren’t you forgetting a very special day, beloved?”. And that was definitely a hint of sadness that was sprinkled all over the Al Ghul’s tone.

Right, as if he could actually feel sad over anything with all the blood in his hands.

“I am not in for a game, Al Ghul. I have got a whole city to save and a good night’s sleep to resume, but here I am, in the middle of an abandoned area with a ruthless assassin who threatened to explode the best half of the city and what’s next? Seizure?”. Almost a devilish chuckle escaped his lips as if he had conquered the entire world.

“Oh for gods shake, little bird. Do you really think I will abandon the best of all nights in Nanda Parbat to blast a worthless city like Kansas?”, now he is definitely getting on her nerves. “But I must say, I had half a mind to blow the Titans bridge five minutes ago”, his all time devilish smile still painted his arrogant look. Raven barely recognized how Damian managed to corner her against the cold wall whose uneven surface pressed itself against her flawless skin dripping it with the night’s best dew.

“I am not asking you again, Ra’s. Tell me what you want with me before I banish you into a dimension of never return”.

“You hurt me, beloved. Don’t you remember the anniversary of our marriage?”

Married? With him? A year ago?

“If this is some sort of silly joke, you better stop it right now, Ra’s. It’s definitely not funny.”, her voice trembled with doubts by each passing second. She lingered over her left ring finger as if she has seen her own hands for the first time in all her life. No ring? Well that’s a relief.

He is just kidding or may be…

Or may be not

“Do I look like one who makes senseless jokes like the green monkey your tower owns”. 

Thanks to Gar, at least his pride is hurt a little.

“I didn’t say that, but if you insist on it… I may”, and she sure as hell liked hurting his weak point - his pride.

“Then how about I insisting on maintaining a decent distance between Conner and you, beloved”, for the first time in almost half an hour his words had the true taste of jealous.

“You are my wife and it is my business to keep flirty hybrids like him away from you. Well, if you don’t have to do it the easy way then I will have the pleasure of teaching him decency in my own way, beloved”. Is the night getting unnaturally warmer or…

Oh no! When did he get this closer to her.

And how the hell she didn’t notice it for this long.

If not for the pitch dark night sky, she could actually feel herself blacking out.

“If it is Conner the one you have your problems with then why the hell did you make me come here?” To reveal that she may be married to the Ra’s of League of Assassin’s a year ago? Probably, yes.

“I thought you would never ask. Let’s say I am here to get a gift”

Right, she barely knew that she got married and now he wants a gift in the middle of a night?

“I don’t have a ring”, the words spilled out even before she could realize it.

May be she lost her brain just like Beast Boy.

“I don’t think it is mandatory for a married couple have to propose during anniversaries, beloved”, his breath flowed through her entire being warming up all her dark desires that might love to make him hers and only hers even if…

Stop. Stop right there Raven.    

“I mean, I don’t even have a ring and how could I be your wife when I don’t even have a ring”

Way to go Raven, what’s next a Priest?

“The dagger, Raven. It means a sealed bond in my heritage. A bond made between a husband and a wife, which you willing took to save the pathetic Titans a year ago in the League of Shadows base.” His voice grew more husky and his breathe drove her senses away as he nibbled at her ear lobe. She was supposed to be mad, she was supposed to blast him to pieces and scatter every inch of his being at different dimensions for revealing something as important as being married, but his tone - well, that’s definitely not helping.

“What now? You want me to quit being a Titan, take sides with you and go against them?”

“Baby steps, beloved. Baby steps”. His left hand toyed with the hem of her dress, further breaking the already half broken control towards her urging needs that pooled in very being.  

“Just a kiss and a promise to keep that coward Conner away from you will do”.  She could feel the cold air of the young night kissing her wide spread pale skin that already missed the warmth touch of the assassin.

“And if I resist?”

“You really think you could resist me, beloved? Since it is our anniversary I will be generous enough to make another request”. His eyes grew darker with every words as his katana slightly battered against the cold wall.

“How about blasting the Titans tower to the ground while that stupid Gar and Jaime are trying with their half-celled brains to defuse the bomb or how about giving black fire all the 18 ways to kill Kori like a true assassin in the middle of their fight right now in Kansas or how about giving Slade Wilson the true identity of Dick Grayson and his fellow bat clan or how about letting Conner suffer in the hands of Bizarre Superman, left alone to die by a Kryptonite stabbing.” He hummed the last few parts as he withdraw from the spot he previously stood.  

“On second thought how about all of the above?”

“You are kidding. I would have received an alert signal at least if one of these is happening right now”.

“You mean this?” Damian raised a small communicator from his pocket still humming like an undisturbed teenager enjoying his long drive to no destiny at all.

“Give it back”. She raised her hand trying to snatch the communicator but in vain.

“Did I forget to mention that you have to be a grown woman to snatch a stuff, beloved”. His eye brow arched itself up.

That’s it. She could bear all of his sarcasms, all of his threats and even all of his flirts but not even for the shake of Azar would she let this damn Demon Spawn comment on her height and hurt her pride in nothing more than mere seconds. That’s not going to happen. Not today.

Raven rose to her tip-toes grabbing Damian’s collar to support her in the process but accidentally twirled their legs and slipped right on top of him. Their lips were locked like the mere existence of one depends on the other, when Raven realized the state she has put herself into.

Yeah, that’s how you snatch a communicator from a tall guy, who threatens to blast your whole family.

She would be cheating herself the entire time if she hesitated to accept that she did like the Demon’s head for a reasonably long time now. But she is definitely not going to let her pride get hurt.

“So, you got your gift. Now defuse the bomb and un-mess every mess you made”

“And all it took was calling you - short”. Damian let an almost an inaudible chuckle escape his throat.

He pulled out the dagger from Raven’s waist band and seethed it properly. “Don’t hurt yourself playing with this doll, beloved”.

“My team…”, Raven question was cut short by Damian as he spoke.

“They are safe. For now”

BOOM…

From the frequency of the sound wave she could say that it was near the Titans Tower.

“Well, except for one I guess”

With one last peck on her lips he disappeared into the shadows as if he never existed a few minutes ago.

--

Thank Azar!

There was not a single scratch on the tower. Not even one. At least he kept few of his words.

But the real horror stroke her when she felt no living presence inside the tower.

“Umm.. Rae what are you doing up late in the night?”, Dick asked as he and the other Titans entered the tower with handful of shopping bags. “You are all fine?”. She will never spell it out loud but deep down she knew that she couldn’t stand their loss. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Yeah, we are fine. It’s a little cold out there. But don’t worry we won’t catch a cold, Rae. If that’s what you are worried about”, Gar uttered with no care in the world as he glanced through the contents of the fridge.

“Where have you been?” was all she managed to ask when she realized that she wasn’t dreaming.

“We were out…”, Kori barely had a chance to finish when Raven added “Crime fighting?”

“Ah… shopping, Raven. I don’t think it is a custom on Earth to crime fight every time you step out into the public, is it Dick?”.

“Unless or otherwise you are in Gotham, no”, Dick replied as he loaded the fridge with the contents of the grocery bags.

“So, where is Conner?”, inquired Jaime as he entered the main hall. “Isn’t he in the tower?”, Kori added.

“There wasn’t anyone in the tower when I arrived”, Raven replied as a loud thud followed their conversation.

“Conner!”, Gar yelled as he reached him. The rest of the Titans followed by.

--

“What the hell happened dude?”, asked Gar as he tried to touch the bruise near his right eye.

“OUCH!”

“That’s just a small bruise, Conner. I have seen worse”, Dick replied while analyzing his wounds.

“And a broken wrist”, Conner added trying to rise his wounded hand but in vain.

“It’s just a minor injury, amigo. You will be alright as soon as the Sun’s back”, Jaime reassured him while attending to his wounds.

“Here, let me heal you”, Raven offered taking a step towards but the wound deepened as if it was being cut from inside out. Conner could barely resist the urge to break the table he sat on.

“Raven, is that a Kryptonite you are wearing?”, Dick pointed at the green stone that somehow perfectly settled around her neck.

“If that’s causing our flirty Superboy to yell like a mad man then it is definitely a Kent-repellent”, Jaime added.

“A kryptonite? Not again”, Conner banged his head against the wall as if that would make his day any better.

If you don’t have to do it the easy way then I will have the pleasure of teaching him decency in my own way.

“Raven, I know you mean no harm but I don’t think Conner could take any more kryptonite today. So, would you mind…”, Gar tried to get rid of the kryptonite that adorned her neck.

“Here let me try”, Kori flared a small star bolt which seemed to have no effect on it either.

“It seems you have to stay away from Conner for a few days until we find a way to remove that thing off your neck. By the way, it seems to have no effect on you Raven. You may leave, we will take care of Conner”

Seems like he played a particular demon played his part well at keeping Raven away from Conner.

Raven made a short nod and walked towards her room. In the background, she could clearly hear the boys filling Conner with questions about the attack.

“So, was it Bizarre the reason behind this?”, Dick asked as he finished cleaning the wounds.

“No, it was a masked man with a Katana”, Conner replied.

“And you - a bullet proof being got this from a Katana?”, Gar’s curiosity reached its peak when Conner made Kryptonian curses under his breathe.

“Stop touching my wound, Gar”

“You call yourself a super but you can’t stand a broken wrist” Gar arched both of his eye brows wanting for a genuine explanation.

“I have not even once been injected, Pea-brain” was all Raven could hear, when she disappeared into her own shadows. 

                                                                 - Samuel Damian Fernandez

Hi, everyone! This is just a one shot, not a great one but worth giving a try. Like I have mentioned before English is my 8th priority language. So, if you find faults in my work just let me know. Also, share your thoughts on this one shot, so I may get an idea for future modifications. 

Punardarśaāya 😉 👋

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 1)

(Gif credit to @kikuthestrange​)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader (eventual)

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: As usual, mentions and descriptions of blood, death, torture, injury and people being burnt alive. Mentions or allusions to rape. If there’s anything else I didn’t mention, please let me know. Fair warning that the Reader Character may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but please give her a chance.

A/N: Um, idk. Hope you like this, and again, really sorry if this is OOC. That is one hell of an insecurity I have when I start writing for new characters, but I really hope I’m not messing Ivar or any of the others up.

You are focused on the blending of some herbs to help the pain of some of the warriors, when a round metal shield is dropped at your feet. You raise your eyes from the snake engraved on the old metal to the Saxon, giving away nothing except a small twitch of your mouth.

But you know what that symbol is. It is a mark of the Attics.

“Most of the Greeks are dead,” He states, certainly, viciously. Your eyes fall closed, and you heave a sigh. “And I will personally see that the survivors are hunted down.”

You knew this was going to happen. The Varangians cornered Stithulf into the confine of these walls and yet last night he sent a hunting party, the best of the best within his Arab mercenaries.

You knew he wasn’t going to try and kill Ivar the Boneless or his brothers. No, he was going to take revenge on the people he deemed failed him, the people he deemed owed him a victory.

And it makes the whole ground cave under your feet, the realization that it is done. That the last of the Attics lie bloodied on the unforgiving earth. That their faith in you, their love for you, was their downfall.

Just like Narses’.

“I always knew you Christians were just as bloody and cruel as the worst of us,” You say instead, looking down at the shield again and picking it up with trembling hands, “You slaughtered hundreds of innocents.”

“If you had fought for us…” He starts, but you interrupt him with a glare. Some things don’t change even if you get far from home: all it takes to stop an army, to make a man like Stithulf hesitate, is a heathen witch.

If only their God hadn’t taught him to fear yours, the world would be so different.

“We’d all rather be dead than slaves to a Christian.” You hiss out, curling your fingers over the cold and bloodied metal. And you mean more than this battle, this war not your own that regardless you lost; no, you mean Byzantium, and the home you left behind.

“You could have avoided all of this, Greek.” He insists, the scar that runs from his neck to his uneven sideburn stretching around the smile he offers.

For a moment you imagine letting your hand run a knife deeply through that scar, open it again and see it pour red and victorious blood. Trace with a knife over every scar, so that he only remembers the torment you brought him.

No, that’s wrong. Trying to hide the grimace at your own thoughts, you shake off the shame and stand up. Holding on tightly to the shield, you feel you carry the weight of thousands of Greeks on your hand.

And because you were taught speaking things helped make them real, you promise, “Our Gods live on, and the worship of them is not something blades and blood can smother. Quieten, yes, but never silence.”

“You will die for your pagan ways, you know this, don’t you?” He asks, stopping you for a moment at the…honesty in his voice.

“I do not fear death,” You answer, and when you walk past an open window that looks over the foreign and cold horizon you add, quiet enough that only the Gods may hear you, “I welcome it. Let Hades summon me home.”

“I have reached an agreement with the Vikings,” Stithulf calls out, voice loud and echoing in the halls. You grip the shield tighter. “There will be…negotiations tomorrow.”

Your mouth smiles and your tongue runs with dangerous words before you can stop yourself, “You will sit and talk with the same men you scoured the world trying to kill?”

“I know when I am defeated, Greek. Something you lack.”

You say nothing else, the defeat finally setting over your shoulders and all you can do to keep appearances is to keep walking and pretend the tears are not clogging your view as you walk past unfamiliar halls, on unfamiliar grounds, with the weight of unfamiliar and familiar ghosts over your head.

Spending the rest of the day, almost till the sun sets, taking care of some wounds and fevers, you can almost pretend to yourself that the life you give here, the damage you heal here; can start to make up for all the death you and your mistakes have caused.

You raise your head from your work on the stitching when strange rhythmic sounds reach your ears.

Metal on wood. Dragging sounds. Metal on wood again. Something dragged again.

The door to the barren and almost empty home you are using as a makeshift infirmary opens, and the silhouette of Ivar the Boneless stands on the doorway.

Your heart pounds in your ears, and the warrior with his injured skin under your fingers hisses a breath when your needle pierces deeper than intended into his skin. You mumble an apology in Greek, but keep your eyes on the King.

“You don’t need healing.” You quip quietly in his language, rising to your feet and motioning for the Greek you were helping to remain in his seat.

To be honest, you don’t know why you stand up, why you straighten your back and raise your chin. You can pretend to be as tall as you wish, as strong as you wish, but everyone in this room knows if the Varangian wants you dead you will be so.

“I wanted to talk to you.” The Viking offers, forced nonchalance as he approaches. His legs don’t seem to work normally, and the contraptions around them are like you never saw before. The healer in you notes they look…painful.

He gets close enough you can see his handsome face clearly in the candlelight, but far enough you don’t feel threatened. The King remains standing, straight and proud, by one of the wooden pillars.

His pale eyes, you note in the now clear view the candles provide you, switch to the warrior sitting a few feet behind and then return to you. You resist the urge to play with your fingers.

“Why?” You ask, retrieving with trembling hands one of the linens you will use as bandages for the wound on the Greek warrior’s back.

“I’m…curious.”

“So am I,” You reply, rolling the needle you use for the stitches between your thumb and forefinger as you study the man. “It is not every day that I find myself meeting with a Viking King.”

“So you know who I am.” He states, and you cannot know if he is disappointed, proud, or a mix of the two.

“Of course I do,” You answer without hesitation, “And I also know it is not me who you are supposed to be meeting.”

“I wanted to talk with you, witch.” He insists again, reminding you of a spoiled child, but also showing you that, either for the foreignness or something entirely him, the Varangian is uncertain on how to talk to you.

It almost makes a smile curve at your lips, and your impulsive heart wants you to send the warrior off and talk with this strange man, this…Ivar the Boneless.

“I…am busy,” You answer instead, returning to your stitching. If your hand trembles a little and you cause a little more pain than you intended as you finish up the last of the stitches, no one can blame you. “I must tend to the wounded, Varangian.”

“A smart woman would know better than to deny me.”

“I never claimed to be smart.”

“Are you always this insufferable, woman?” He snaps, anger rises in his voice, making the warrior you are standing behind tense under your fingers as they wrap a bandage over his back and ribs to keep the wound from infection.

But you, past the fear, feel a small smile start to curve at your lips when you find the pale eyes of the Varangian King.

“I try.” You reply with a shrug, but a growl is the only answer you get.

You watch with wide eyes as the Viking unsheathes a small knife from somewhere in his chest and, instead of throwing it like you would expect, he flips it so that he grabs onto the blade instead of the handle.

His fist clenches around it, eliciting a sharp breath from the King and blood that drips between his fingers.

“There,” He grunts, opening his hand and letting the knife clatter unceremoniously to the wooden floor. He returns his piercing pale eyes to you and his mouth almost bares in a snarl, his nose furrows in cold anger, as he speaks, “Now you have to tend to me.”

So the rumors were true, he is actually crazy. Although you doubt a man that can topple Aelle, that can conquer York, is crazy.

No, he is clever. If maybe too angry and arrogant, he is still cunning. That thought alone reminds you to keep your guard up.

A part of your mind begs you to be sensible about this, not to do anything stupid, but you finish wrapping the wound on the warriors back with skilled fingers, and tap his shoulder so that he stands. Ivar the Boneless keeps his eyes on you, defiantly and terrifyingly, as he watches you move. You turn your attention to the Greek and nod as goodbye, “Go, I will be fine.”

The man looks between the Varangian and you, before putting his right fist to his heart, his left arm bent behind him in a goodbye and a sign of respect to you.

“Anassa.” He mutters in farewell, and you watch him go wondering how many days will it take for him to also die because of your mistakes.

And as the door closes behind the Greek, you notice truly how engulfing the darkness and the defenselessness are. The city moves on around you, but all that reaches the small cabin you are in is the faint sounds of a stray horse or farm animal. The Saxons wouldn’t want the heathen witch to be near their soldiers, after all, even in a city that was never theirs with barely any civilians on it.

All that means you are all alone and defenseless, with a Viking known for his cruel and vicious ways. Gritting your teeth and fighting to keep your heartbeat from drumming away in your ears, you turn back to the Varangian and motion for a chair near you.

He doesn’t move. Of course he doesn’t, because no one in this cursed land listens to a damn word you say.

His hand still drips red to the wooden floor, and you pointedly look at it where it rests on his side and back to his face. The King only cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed.

“You speak many tongues,” The Varangian states, not even a question, “Our language, the Saxons’, but I don’t recognize the other one.”

“Greek,” You reply, “I am not from here.”

“I noticed.”

With a shrug, you state, “Probably why you haven’t killed me yet, isn’t it?”

But the Viking doesn’t answer. Instead, he limps towards you, but where there should be -to a sane woman, maybe- a threat, a danger, you only find your heart beating with the same fast pace it did when you were about to cross a dangerous and wild stream by Eleusis’ forests. A hint of fear, a hint of curiosity, and much more than a hint of freedom.

The rage of the stream deafened you, uncertainty beat quickly on your chest…but your bare feet still continued running towards the water.

You keep your eyes on his.

“You are…outspoken, witch. Are all Greeks like you?”

“You should lower your eyes when men are speaking.” He advises with more than a little anger in his tone.

You hear faintly of Sieghild’s mocking scoff, and you stand up from your chair and stalk to Narses in a few strides, keeping your eyes on him. A sick part of you is trying to test him, to dare him into laying hands on you to shut you up.

The lies would come easier if he did.

“I cower before no man, my love.” The endearment drips with poison, and the twitch in his expression tells you he is aware of it.

There’s rustling of armor, and out of the corner of your eye you catch sight of Lysander straightening to his full height, the mantle of the soon-to-be Anax of Sparta set well over his shoulders as he walks calmly towards you.

For a moment of distrust and panic, you think he will take the side that wants to silence you, but your cousin stands next to you, although slightly behind, offering you his support. His hand is comforting on your shoulder.

“You may do things differently in Attica, but in Laconia our women are not slaves,” Lysander promises, voice dripping authority and more than a slight threat, “Descendant of Theseus, aren’t you?” He breathes out a chuckle, “You will have to venture into the Underworld like your ancestor to make a woman of Spartan blood cave.”

You breathe out a laugh, “No.”

“So you are not afraid of me.”

You look into his pale eyes and wonder for a moment. What is there to fear? It is true his fame precedes him, even if you choose to ignore his name, his truth. Rumors of madness, ruthlessness, unpredictability, rage, cruelty; they all are kept safely in your mind, to torment you faintly with exactly the kind of beast you try to dance with.

But you remember the time that mad man in the flimsy boat offered to take you to cross the Aegean, and how the threat of pain and death and cold all hung over you like shadows; and yet the curiosity of what lay in the realm of what if made you still get on that feeble boat. You have a feeling it is the same kind of stubborn and reckless curiosity that makes you offer the King a small smile.

“I learned long ago not to fear any man, Varangian.” You answer, motioning with your hand to his injured one, hoping for response this time.

The Viking’s eyes are defying as they challenge yours, but you refuse to lower your gaze. He sits by you on one of the chairs, movements graceful and confident as he discards the crutch he uses to walk by the table.

After a breath, he offers you his injured hand.

You don’t hesitate, even if a part of you tells you that you should, and take a seat at his side, working instinctively as you start wetting a clean cloth in some water infused with honeysuckle and goldenseal.

Taking his hand and opening the rough fingers to your sight and touch, you clean off the blood and hope silently that you are not the one responsible for Ivar the Boneless getting an infection for a stupid wound on his hand.

“Why are you and your people here, if you are from the Mediterranean?” He asks suddenly, but it doesn’t startle you like it should.

With a deep breath and keeping your eyes on your work, you offer, “The obvious answer would be attacking your city, my King.”

“And retreating.” He points out lowly, not biting into your taunt.

Lifting your eyes to his, you search his pale gaze for a few moments. You offer him sincerity in exchange for his calm, “The Christians were going to surrender, we knew this the moment your army arrived. We had no interest in this war of yours.”

“Then why fight in it?”

“Obvious answer, my King?” You ask around a smirk, and the man’s eyes darken as he leans closer. A finger underneath your chin threatens you as much as a sharp blade could, and you swallow past a dry throat.

“Careful.” He cautions, and his lips curve around a smile as dangerous and poisonous as it is enthralling and tempting.

“Our commander agreed we aided the Saxons in exchange for their army’s help in our homeland. With my-…with the commander dead the Greeks were called to retreat.”

“But not you,” He points out, still uncomfortably close. “You didn’t retreat.”

You wish you had an answer to his unspoken question. But you don’t. You could have run with Galla and the others, you could have forged your own path with Sieghild away from battle, the Gods know you have done so before.

You could have, but still you fell back to the Saxon city as if survival was to be achieved only by acceptance of defeat.

“A lady ought to have her secrets, I’m afraid.” You answer instead, lowering your eyes back to your work. Although you can sense the young Viking wants to demand more, because of course he does, he remains silent.

______

Hi, thank you for reading! I really hope you are liking this so far, and that it isn’t boring lol

Again, thank you so much, and I’d love to hear from you!

[maxwell-grant]

Having seen your thoughts on his deeply-unpleasant daddy, might I please ask if you have any thoughts on The Gladiator himself, Hugo Danner? (THE SUPERMAN WHO MIGHT HAVE BEEN, if you will).

What would you do if you were the strongest man in the world, the strongest thing in the world, mightier than the machine? He made himself guess answers for that rhetorical query. "I would—I would have won the war. But I did not. I would run the universe single-handed. Literally single-handed. I would scorn the universe and turn it to my own ends. I would be a criminal. I would rip open banks and gut them. I would kill and destroy. I would be a secret, invisible blight. I would set out to stamp crime off the earth; I would be a super-detective, following and summarily punishing every criminal until no one dared to commit a felony. What would I do? What will I do?"

The thing that strikes me about Gladiator is that it almost feels like the book is unfinished. The quality and pace of the book is all over the place, but you can boil it's general story down to "unlucky bastard is born Superman before it's time for Superman to exist, without the necessary support, mindset and structure to become Superman, in a world that neither supports nor accepts the existence Superman, and just as he's about to have the life-changing epiphany that could make him something, he gets struck by lightning and dies in the 2nd-to-last paragraph".

The whole book is like if in the first Spider-Man story Peter Parker just gave up after Uncle Ben died and we never saw him again. It's a superhero/supervillain origin story that gets cut short right as it's about to lead to the birth of the character proper. It's frustrating, yes, but to my scavenger goblin brain that likes to dig through pop culture's trash to find nice forgotten trinkets to polish and make into something new, it also invites a lot of promise, if we get into the question of what could have happened to Hugo Danner if he didn't die on the cusp of his origin story. It's an idea I plan to use for my own pulp writings.

It's not so much whether or not Hugo MIGHT have been Superman, so much as: COULD he be Superman? Maybe, maybe not. I'd argue not, because even with all his power, and even with his parents trying to raise him as best they could, even with Hugo genuinely trying his best to be good and heroic and turn his gifts to mankind, it wasn't gonna pan out. The right pieces weren't there, the family structure wasn't there, the necessary aspects of the origin story weren't there, and ultimately, Hugo Danner wasn't cut for it. He is a failure at everything he tries to be super at.

At college on the football field, he kills a man. As a soldier on the Great War, he slaughters thousands for years, but fails to end the war, despite having been able to do so from the moment he enlisted. He is fired from a steel mill for working too far beyond the abilities of his fellows, and then fired from a bank for freeing a man from a locked safe, because the bank president suspected that Danner planned to use his powers to rob the vault. He tries using his powers to enact social change and fails again and again. He can't even enjoy daily life, because he cannot compete fairly with ordinary people, and because of that he must constantly hold himself in check, never able to fully express himself. And when he's presented with the idea of creating a race of people like him to dominate the world and to “conquer and stamp out all these things to which men of intelligence object,” he finds it ultimately distasteful, because he knows better than to expect good things to come out of his life. And then he curses God and dies. The whole book is one long argument as to why Being Superman Sucks.

He's not the break from tradition that Superman represented, he's a sci-fi superman who met the same tragic ending his predecessors did. In that paragraph above, the very first thing he thinks about, after remarking over his failure to end the war, is thinking about becoming some galactic dictator murdering everyone who steps out of line, before he considers becoming a fascist super-detective. Kind of a damning perspective to present your hero, isn't it? If Gladiator was released today, exactly as is, people would be quick to assume it's an origin story for a Homelander/Plutonian/Omni-Man kind of character. Hugo Danner was a Superman deconstruction before that became a pop culture cliche.

My favorite sections of the book are those that describe Hugo in the war. By far the best-written and most evocative, almost bordering on horror story. And they may be the most damning sections of them all. He never forgives himself for not ending the war when he could, because he's spent all those years killing and toiling away when he was just about the one person who could conceivably leap all the way to Germany and force the war to end. I imagine a lot of pulp heroes who suffered in the war, or any war, and walked out of it with a resolve to protect and do good by others, would be pretty pissed when discovering that, all along, there was this living god among them who actually could have ended the war single-handedly, but was just too damn busy slaughtering his way through fields of people who couldn't possibly fight back, to think about it.

And for all that Hugo says that he hates war and murder and bloodshed, he sure seems like a total natural for it:

Hugo, out of his scarlet fury, had one glimpse of his antagonist's face and person. The glimpse was but a flash. He was a little man—a foot shorter than Hugo. His eyes looked out from under his helmet with a sort of pathetic earnestness. And he was worried, horribly worried, standing there with his rifle lifted and trying to remember the precise technique of what would follow even while he fought back the realization that it was hopeless.

In that split second Hugo felt a human, amazing urge to tell him that it was all right, and that he ought to hold his bayonet a little higher and come forward a bit faster. The image faded back to an enemy. Hugo acted mechanically from the rituals of drill. His own knife flashed. He saw the man's clothes part smoothly from his bowels, where the point had been inserted, up to the gray-green collar. The seam reddened, gushed blood, and a length of intestine slipped out of it.

Hugo stepped over him. He was trembling and nauseated. The bellow of battle returned to Hugo's ears. He pushed back the threatening rifle easily and caught the neck in one hand, crushing it to a wet, sticky handful. So he walked through the trench, a machine that killed quickly and remorselessly

Hugo was learning about war. He thought then that the task which he had set for himself was not altogether to his liking. There should be other and more important things for him to do. He did not like to slaughter individuals. The day passed like a cycle in hell. No change in the personnel except that made by an occasional death. No food. No water. They seemed to be exiled by their countrymen in a pool of fire and famine and destruction.

And then later, after they kill a friend of his

He leaped to the parapet, shaking his fists. "God damn you dirty sons of bitches. I'll make you pay for this. You got him, got him, you bastards! I'll shove your filthy hides down the devil's throat and through his guts". He did not feel the frantic tugging of his fellows. He ran into that bubbling, doom-ridden chaos, waving his arms and shouting maniacal profanities. A dozen times he was knocked down. He bled slowly where fragments had battered him. He crossed over and paused on the German parapet. He was like a being of steel. Barbed wire trailed behind him.

Bayonets rose. Hugo wrenched three knives from their wielders in one wild clutch. His hands went out, snatching and squeezing. That was all. No weapons, no defence. Just—hands. Whatever they caught they crushed flat, and heads fell into those dreadful fingers, sides, legs, arms, bellies. Bayonets slid from his tawny skin, taking his clothes. By and by, except for his shoes, he was naked. His fingers had made a hundred bunches of clotted pulp and then a thousand as he walked swiftly forward in that trench. Ahead of him was a file of green; behind, a clogged row of writhing men. Scarcely did the occupants of each new traverse see him before they were smitten. The wounds he inflicted were monstrous. On he walked, his voice now stilled, his breath sucking and whistling through his teeth, his hands flailing and pinching and spurting red with every contact. No more formidable engine of desolation had been seen by man, no more titanic fury, no swifter and surer death. For thirty minutes he raged through that line. The men thinned. He had crossed the attacking front.

A man dipped in scarlet, nude, dripping, panting. Slowly in that hiatus he wheeled. His lungs thundered to the French. "Come on, you black bastards. I've killed them all. Come on. We'll send them down to hell."

And years later, when he's thinking back to the misery that had been his life:

His deeds frightened men or made them jealous. When he conceived a fine thing, the masses, individually or collectively, transformed it into something cheap. His fort in the forest had been branded a hoax. His effort to send himself through college and to rescue Charlotte from an unpleasant life had ended in vulgar comedy. Even that had been her triumph, her hour, and an incongruous strain of greatness had filtered through her personality rather than his. Now his years in the war were reduced to no grandeur, to a mere outlet for his savage instinct to destroy. After such a life, he reflected, he could no longer visualize himself engaged in any search for a comprehension of real values.

If he could but have ended the war single-handed, it might have been different. But he was not great enough for that. He had been a thousand men, perhaps ten thousand, but he could not be millions. He could not wrap his arms around a continent and squeeze it into submission. There were too many people, and they were too stupid to do more than fear him and hate him. Sitting there, he realized that his naïve faith in himself and the universe had foundered. The war was only another war that future generations would find romantic to contemplate and dull to study. He was only a species of genius who had missed his mark by a cosmic margin.

Even when he's thinking about the places where he went wrong, that he blames himself for, even when's engaged in introspection, his thoughts still gravitate towards violence and hatred, of squeezing continents into submission and of how much the masses are stupid to not appreciate him (because really, all Hugo wants is to be loved and appreciated for what he is), and how unlucky he was to miss his mark.

There's just no place for Hugo Danner. Maybe it was actually rather merciful that he got to have his misery ended briefly by lightning strikes, before he could either turn into something worse, or have his life ruined more throughly.

[whump-town]

Come Down

You know, I have no idea if this is actually good. I find myself combing over it and it’s confusing, no doubt. It makes no sense. I might take it down. For now, I just submit myself to this. I wrote it... more or less. So, lets just ignore how it makes no sense plot wise and just enjoy that I have managed to write words—

Warning for suicidal ideations

Hotchniss

Takes right after Emily’s funeral

---

He buries her in the fall.

Surrounded by the team, he shivers as the breeze picks up the leaves littering the ground and scurries them across the dying grass. Each step that is taken, each uncomfortably cold shift of their bodies, is enunciated by the desolate crunch of the leaves under their feet. Of death in the air.

Emily always said there was a strange kind of beauty in death.

He hates that he can see that now.

“Aaron?”

He looks down where JJ clutches his left hand, her bright eyes searching for something in his own. Something lost, probably. He doesn’t feel very human now, she can see that. In all honesty, he doesn’t even want to hear the sound of his voice. He wishes he could tuck himself into this dirt and die with Emily. To stop feeling and breathing and living because his lungs feel heavy and his life having passed long ago.

So, he doesn’t respond to the way JJ says his name. Even though he can hear the desperation, the pain. She’s afraid they’re going to lose him and he’s too tired to lie to her.

JJ tucks herself into his side and for a moment he just blinks down at her. Something has been off about her since Emily’s death. As tears sting his eyes and he’s forced to look up and away so that they don’t fall, he lets it go. He doesn’t want to push. He doesn’t want to know.

They know everything now.

They know enough.

He’ll keep as much as he can for himself. He knows it’s selfish.

“You shouldn’t go home alone, Aaron.”

As sick as he feels leaving her behind, he can’t stand the thought of them in his home. In the spaces that they shared. The mugs that she touched last and the blankets that only she curled into. Even now, as JJ touches his hand-- he doesn’t want to be touched. He doesn’t want to be perceived.

All he has left are ghosts.  The shampoo sitting on the rim of his tub because she could never manage to remember to put it back on the shelf. The glass of water on her nightstand. The three pairs of leggings kicked under his bed. His flannel that smells of her because she's worn it more in the past few weeks than he has in the years he's owned it.

The ghost of her that haunts his body and lives within his head. Catacombs.

“I would prefer to be alone, please.”

He doesn’t look up but he sees their darting eyes. The way they doubt him, already. What does it say about him that whenever anything bad happens they always assume he’ll kill himself? He’d seen it in their eyes after Haley’s death and Foyet’s attack. Fearful that the moment someone wasn’t around to watch him he’d end his life. Abrupt, right there for them to find.

Were they afraid to lose him or to find him?

A fire roast within his mind. Sickness like thick timber logs, cracking, and popping. The heat makes his skin melt away and his brain browning to slime. His eyes remain open as if propped open by sticks, not by his own accord and not because he wishes it so. Machine more than man. Autopilot.

His heavy wooden legs lift and with head full of sludge, he walks away. Ears deaf to the soft call of his name. The cold no longer stings. His skin no longer feels.

He is numb.

There is nothing.

In his apartment, he expects to find her there. Another cruel joke played out at his expense but there is nothing.

A heating pad still plugged into the wall behind the couch. Her voice in his ear and if he closes his eyes, body swaying with exhaustion, he can recall the warmth of her fingers across his forehead. Her breath on his cheek as she’d leaned over him-- “Just sleep, now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

What he would give to feel that pain. Something. Anything.

She hadn’t meant to lie.

When he woke on the couch some hours later, brain still burning and skull crackling, she had been long gone. Half-way to wherever it was she thought she could get to. Almost to safety. Ian Doyle had still found her.

Until two days ago, he’d never even heard that name.

Now, it’s all he thinks about.

Ian Doyle.

What else does he have to lose?

“Where are you going?”

He steps out on his front porch, two guns strapped to his body. There is nothing in his eyes, not even a hint of the flickering consuming knowledge of before. All of the edged sharpness, the intelligence has dulled. Absent is the swift movement of his anxiety. The man dressed as Aaron Hotchner is just his murderer.

With Aaron’s voice, the hallow man answers, “for a walk.”

Dave frowns. Yes, he could have safely assumed that answer. JJ had taken his keys at the funeral. Morgan was due to swing by soon and take his guns. They can not bring Emily back but they can keep him here.

“Mind if I join?”

Hotch looks at him. Frowns.

“It’s raining,” Dave points out. “Perhaps you would prefer a drive?” He motions back to his own car, hidden mostly by the lack of street lights and it’s dark color. Night has fallen, even though it is only four. The cold seeps into their clothes but Aaron does not shiver.

“I wouldn’t.”

Dave huffs, his breath measured out in front of him. “Is that so,” he chuckles with a shake of his head. “Alright then,” he caves. “Go on,” he nods his head in the direction Aaron had stepped in. “I’ll wait here for you. Mind if I start some coffee, I assume you’ll be back in time for a cup?”

Hotch simply hums, neither the truth nor a lie.

Dave goes into his house and Hotch leaves.

He doesn’t expect to return for that coffee.

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

Emily Prentiss had not intended to die.

Very few, ever do. Desperate souls, those most akin to the ache of loss like her Aaron, they crave it. There is something about the way the fabric of our lives decay that drives us so eagerly to the edge. Seldom successful. The point is to never focus on the failures. Only what lies ahead or, rather, what doesn’t.

Icarus bounding off the ledge, do you think he had feared what stirred behind him?

Had he longed to be tucked into the waves, nestled by their arms?

What does it matter?

All that matters is that Aaron Hotchner has strapped his wax woven wings to his back and jumped. The back she’d played, fingers digging into the bones and tasting the flesh. Drawing beautiful little sounds from his pale lips. She knows every inch of his body. From the pink flushed scar across his spine or the patch above his right hip, that aches with every rain fall.

He has jumped and expects to find her at the bottom of the ocean.

“Lauren.”

It has been a long time since she’s heard that name. One rooted close to her own. Lauren shivers down her spine, causes her heart to jump in her chest. Lauren is the name the shadows call to her. The corner of her room where only a plant resides but the breezeless room still beckons her closely. A name not quite her own but a part of her. After pretending to be Lauren for so long, she had become her. Quant, lilac scented, curly-haired Lauren.

Lauren Reynolds will always be a better woman than Emily Prentiss.

But, unlike Emily Prentiss, Lauren Reynolds is dead.

“Don’t ignore me, love.” Ian in all of his charm has never been able to shake his anger. He spits that little moniker at her now “love” but it’s bitter and twisted. It’s meant to make her feel possessed. His.

Her lips part to speak, to say something sharp and harsh but she’s beaten.

Rather, someone else is.

She hears the tired cry of pain from his lips. Aaron. It draws on, for as long as Aaron breathes the sound until it’s cut off with a whimper. “Ian!” She cries desperately out to him, to draw her attention back to her and away from Aaron. Raggedly, she can hear their breathes mingling. Breathless, both of them. The sound is plucked, she can picture his back bowed like a sting. His piano keyed spine arched to draw that cry. How long as Ian had him? What has he endured? Men like Aaron Hotchner do not sing for anyone. He requires training and discipline.

Not unlike the cello she had received for her ninth birthday.

Aaron had curled across her body much time and as her fingers had grown rough with the frequent use of her cello, she learned how to play his body. To draw sweet sounds from such big, monstrous figures. Both had bent to her will.

“Tell me,” Ian requests. “Do you think you’ll be fast enough? Will you save him?” He can not conquer her so he will take what she has left behind. With a tsk, Ian lowers his body closer to Aaron’s. There is no reason to fear the other man may catch his bearings. It has been three days and no one at home even knows he’s gone missing. He has lost too much blood, slept too little, and eaten even less. The strength of Aaron Hotchner has long since left his body.

Not that it would be of much use here.

Be it the strings of fate or the silly mistakes of a woman still very much a girl, this has nothing to do with him. Not his mistakes or his guilt, they have no place here no matter how he may fathom to be. This is about the Ambassador’s dead daughter, a woman conceived by the mind, and an Irish mobster.

“No.”

Long ago she had learned how impossible it is to think you can save the world. God, there are times when she found herself certain this damned Earth had condemned itself. Let it, she’d found herself sobbing. For the love of everything, let this damned soil swallow itself whole. He had reminded her of the goodness. Aaron Hotchner in all of his anger had shown her the soft places in her heart. Then she could see it all more clearly.

“No,” she can hear the trembling in her own voice. Love and fear, something she has felt for both of these men. She had fallen in love with Ian and grown to fear him. Aaron had scared her with the amount of love she felt for him. She had never been overwhelmed in her love for Ian and Aaron had never made her fear him. They are not the same.

“I don’t think I’ll save him,” she answers as truthfully as she can think to. “I’m afraid to know what that will be like, Life without him.”

With more conviction than she holds, perhaps with someone else’s body entirely she continues, “but if you kill him if you take him from me--” Her eyes close, as she pulls in a breath through her nose. Within her chest, her heart chips away at thinning ribs. She does not fear what will happen if it escapes. “I will kill you. I will take your reputation, your name, and your men. I will not stop, Ian, until every part of you that has ever been known on this damned planet is gone. I will kill your memory. I will make Ian Doyle a ghost that no one can even name. I will make you no one.” The final threat comes out a low rumble, she’s someone else entirely. Neither Emily nor Lauren. “That is all you have ever been, nothing. Nothing and I will make you remember that even in death.”

For a long moment, there is nothing. Just the truth of her words.

“I had thought us to be the tragedy to endure time,” his voice scoffs. A foul, nasty habit that has always betrayed him. As simple as Aaron’s tightening fists or worrying fingers, Ian’s dismissive noises have always given the true meaning of his words their proper light. As he now speaks with an inflection of dismission but he is hurt. “You, my Persephone in all her vibrant love and youth.” His sigh is wistful, turned mournful. Twisted with the vision he sees lost. “I, your Hades. Dark and jaded but for you, my love, oh by God I could have been life itself.”

He had not been life. In those first days, had Lucifer been life? The snake high in the bows of a tree curled fat and lazy with the sun. Tongue sharp and knowing. Ian had been looking for what was his own. As Lucifer guided that apple to Eve’s supple lips, Ian curled his body to hers. Men seeking their absolution. They’re own pleasure and wants and desires. And now, do we not speak as if Eve had created this atrocity on her own. Her hand did not create the apple and Emily had told them she was in too deep. She begged them to pull her out of the mission.

Time and time again men prove to be the cheapest thing in a woman’s life. Cowards.

Running her tongue against her bottom lip she dares speak. Ian’s silence has spanned long and leaving him waiting will only invoke his rage. “We were a job,” she speaks of their love. As that had been what it was. Not a romance. Not steady and sure but love. The hurricane it often is. “I was a womb and a mole,” her bluntness is unkind but not untrue. He is lying if he refutes these facts. He does not speak. “Lauren loved you Ian, not me.” Now she is the lair.

Ian hums and she understands that he knows what she does: that today makes them both lairs. “But you love him.” Not a question, a statement. “You love his boy as you loved mine but--”

Lauren Reynolds loved Ian Doyle.

Emily Prentiss loves Aaron Hotchner.

“I love him,” she caves. Foolishly, she hopes the truth will save them from the web of lies so artfully created between them. “I love him and killing him will not bring me back. It will not save us.” It will kill them all. She’ll make sure of it. For as long as history stretches, there is nothing but proof of the misfortune that befalls humans. Cain and Abel. Odysseus and Penelope. Achilles and Patroclus.

The last strangles the thought from her brain.

Too cocky for her own good. Ready to let ambition burn its ugly whole into her. Selfishly, she ran from them. Foolishly, she thought this all to be a problem she alone could solve. Ego and pride. As Cain had killed Abel, as Penelope was Odysseus’s perfect match, as Achilles’ pride had brought Patroclus to his doom-- Emily Prentiss will be the death of Aaron Hotchner.

Lauren. Cain. Odysseus. Achilles.

All wrapped into her.

And as she will end her story just as they had theirs. With bloodshed.

“Will you come for me, Lauren?”

Emily closes her eyes, “yes.”

Her arrival had not come with the stench of brimstone and fire but silence. The men that envelop her, do not speak a word. They seem disappointed, perhaps, but are not brave enough to accuse her of what she has done. Love burns a madness into the soul and Ian has become consumed.

“Oh, my love.”

She forces her eyes to Ian. Away from her broken little soldier in the corner. So stupid. So brave. Now, she sees the flickering heat of Ian’s madness. His voice had been wrong and now she can place it for the whine that it is. A child without his milk and cookies.

“Ian,” she greets but not as coldly as she wishes. There is a sadness in her voice. Mourning everything they have lost.

Softly, from the corner, she can hear Aaron dragging himself up. Those deep eyes searching, never sightless but disconnected. “Emily,” he rasps, surprised to find her flesh and bone and not just the haunted screams he has left in his mind.

Ignoring the pained call of her lover, she cups Ian’s stubbly cheek in her palm. Her eyes race between his, terrified to find this some illusion. To find that he has bested her once again and this time she won’t be his only victim. Most of all, she fears what will happen to Aaron. “You will forgive me?” she asks.

Ian nods, thickly swallowing around the thick of his arising emotions. “How could I not?” he asks. He returns her soft touch, brushing a finger across her cheek. “My Lauren… They said you were dead.”

You killed me, she thinks but knows better than to say. “They lie,” she whispers, instead. “I am here, now.” A part of always has been. With him, for better or worse. For whatever that means.

Her broken soldier shirks away from this. Aaron, head bowed, and steadily growing too weak to hold his body up lowers himself back to the cruel concrete. Too tired, too lost to care about the cruel lies Emily now tells. He has been stupid, he knows, but perhaps she will forgive him.

It had been foolish to come looking for Ian. What revenge had he thought himself capable of? Marching in the darkness to death, that is what had done. Searching to do right by a lover and found himself at the end of a gun. Some henchmen of Ian’s. 

Dragged here. Tortured here. 

He doesn’t feel himself drifting away. Dying. Not hopeless but weak. 

Emily will save him, he has no doubt of that. 

Eyes opened to slivers, light brown iris’ darting from left to right as he places himself. Frantically, her palm shifts on the back of his neck. Wet with sweat. More pertinent, he sees the swollen flush of her lips. She kissed Ian. He can’t feel his limbs but he moves them blindly, trusting that his left hand moves. It comes into his field of vision and though it does not feel like a part of him, he swipes his thumb across her lip.

It is better to have some disconnected part of him on her than any of Ian Doyle.

“Aaron.”

He smirks, teeth coated with the crimson of his blood. Aaron. Only for her. “You’re here.”

She nods, smoothing the tear that falls down his cheek. “I am.” 

So she had been what JJ was hiding the cemetery. “I missed you,” he slurs. Eyes sliding shut, he turns his head into her touch. 

“I’m here now,” she promises. “You don’t have to miss me anymore.”

He knows. It is not like before. Once again, he feels pain and underneath all that pain love. The place where Emily Prentiss has curled herself around his cold heart. He feels it all. 

“I’m here, Aaron.”

[abzzz3]

No Soul to Love - Part One

Part one of a multipart fic requested by @leniram1890 , I hope this does your vision justice

Summary: The soul is a powerful thing. It has the ability to heal people when harnessed, but also has a will of it’s own when you find a soulmate. Your soul has been ripped from you for the very purpose of healing others, and now you’re just trying to have as normal of a life as possible. That’s when tall, dark and handsome showed up, flipping everything onto it’s head and forcing you to hope for more than this life you’ve been damned to.

Pairing: Loki x Reader 

Tags: @leniram1890 @kcd15​

Warnings: None that I can think of/remember

Word Count: 1,593

Notes: This is the first I’ve written in a while so please be gentle, however constructive criticism is welcome.

_____________________________________________________

“Milk or sugar?”

You snapped out of the thoughts running through your head and looked at the man sitting across from you, pouring a cup of coffee for each of you.

“No”

He tutts, “Now, now. No need to be so rude”

You scoffed, shaking your head. He couldn’t be serious, could he? Of course he’s serious though, he’s been nothing but serious since the day you met him. All his jokes, his laughing, his lying was all part of his plan. None of it was ever real.

“Why did you do it?” You asked, barely above a whisper, as he gave you a cruel smirk

“I’ve told you this before” Was his answer

“No you haven’t. You’ve told me it was because you liked me, but that’s not an answer. Tell me why you did it.” You replied, trying to sound sure of yourself and calm, but below the surface you were begging the man in front of you to give you some answers.

He poured some milk and three sugar cubes into his coffee, stirring it and taking a long sip of it before putting it back down on the table in front of me.

“Because your need to help others is perfect for my need to help others. Your soul is so full of it that it will work far better than many I have used before.”

You weren’t looking at him as he spoke, instead you were looking at the ring on his finger, which was golden with a black stone as large as a marble in it and when you caught it in the right light you could see a rainbow of colours dance around inside. Those colours were your soul, along with the souls of who knows how many others, well a part of my soul. The rest of it was somewhere hidden where you would never find it, the ring just allowed him to access your soul any time he wanted, because apparently no matter how far your soul is separated to the rest of it, it will always try to become whole again. You’ve imagined yourself prying and ripping that stone from his fingers so many times and smashing it on the ground to finally be free again. It will never happen though. Your soul is his to use up until there is nothing left and you die. ‘Some healer’ you thought, scoffing at his apparent profession.

“Don’t even think about it, you know what happened last time you tried it” He warned, wiggling his fingers so the colours flashed in the sunlight and across your face

Your hand went involuntarily to your shoulder, where you still had phantom pains from when he tore your soul along the edge last time you tried to pry that ring off him. You hadn’t been able to move your shoulder for a week without crying out in pain.

“Can I please go? I have to get to work soon” You asked, still watching his hand

“Yes, but we’ll be back here again tomorrow morning, remember”

You nodded and grabbed your bag, leaving him and your untouched coffee behind you and headed to work.

His name was Adam, he was a work friend of your late husband, George, who was invited round for dinner one night, which is how you first met him. Months went by and all three of you got along really well, until slowly you began to get tired more often and felt like you were losing yourself and losing interest in all your favourite activities. George was amazing throughout it all, taking you to and from appointments with the doctor and your psychologist, he even surprised you one day when you came home from work late with dinner cooked, fresh peonies on the table and candles lit. You looked at him that night and for the first time in a while felt some warmth in your chest, which was pure love towards the man standing in front of you. But, the next morning he was dead. Doctors said he died of heart failure, but his heart was perfectly healthy until that point, so you couldn’t understand how it could have happened.

That was when Adam rocked up on your doorstep, telling you everything. How he was a healer, and used certain methods that those on Earth cannot use, in order to help people get better. How he took your soul from you one night, after finding out enough about you to decide your soul was perfect. That was when he also told you why your late husband had died. Apparently for anyone who’s soul is caught and they are in love at the same time, the soul is harder to mould and be used by the healer. So, he makes it his duty to kill anyone who is one of his trapped souls’ soulmate.

You had to wipe a tear from your cheek as you walked into the front door of the bookshop you worked at. It may have been 6 months ago but it still hurt like it was yesterday.

“Morning y/n!” Tessa called from one of the far walls as she stocked some shelves with books we had just gotten in.

“Morning Tessa, how was Jamie’s recital last night?” You asked

“Amazing, that little boy is just like his father”

You could hear the smile on her face, just by the way her voice carried across the room. It made you happy to see her so happy because you knew of all people she deserved it. You popped your name badge on, put your bag in the staff room and went and turned the open sign around on the front door, ready for the influx of customers today. You worked in an independent bookshop which stocked best sellers, classics, rare books, and anything else in between for every interest and age. The owners were Mr and Mrs Bates, who have retired from working instore and now manage mostly from home, except for the one day a week they come in to check up on us. They were old and Mrs Bates has just had a hip replacement so you didn’t blame them for not being more present.

The door had opened many times already today, and the bell had rung each time to the point where it was now background noise to you. You were currently in the New Age section, reshuffling the books into order by author’s surname when a shadow appeared behind you.

“Excuse me ma’am, I’m wanting some recommendations for some new books” A cool, smooth voice said from behind you

You turned around, an arm full of books, and saw none other than Loki standing in front of you, and a little close for comfort as well. You were gobsmacked, unable to let any words out as you tried to put together some semblance of a sentence to say to him.

“I-, ah, well. . . yes, I-I think I can-” You stumbled out, tripping over every word that left your mouth

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to try to enslave you all” He joked, a smirk just visible on his lips

Loki of Asgard, the God who tried to conquer Earth, was making a joke. Of course that was years ago that he tried to do that, and it has since come to light that he was under some kind of control at the time, you just never thought you would be in the same 10 mile radius to him, let alone in the same room.

“Oh, sorry” you snapped out of it “Of course I can help, what kind of stuff do you like to read?”

“Well, I used to read great tales of heroics and quests back in Asgard. Along with more educational material than you could imagine. Do you have anything like that?” He asked

“I can find something in the classics section that you might like. Similar to your stories of heroics and quests, how does that sound?”

“Lead the way” He said, stretching out his arm in a way of beckoning you forward and towards the centre of the room where you would presumably head to the classics section from

You glanced at him as you walked past him, getting a smell of whatever cologne he used. It was a mix of spices with a woody base and something so sophisticated that it would make any woman weak in the knees because it was so alluring. It was the kind of thing you would imagine a good looking businessman would wear in your favourite trashy romance book. Ignoring the scent, even if you just wanted to get another lung full of it, you lead him across the room and towards one of the back corners where the classic literature was.

Wracking your brain for something that was like what he was describing you instantly thought of Tolkien’s ‘The Hobbit’, which you grabbed off the shelf, and Tolstoy’s ‘War and Peace’, which you kind of just had a feeling he would enjoy, before turning around to face Loki. You showed him both books, giving a brief synopsis of each and asked his thoughts on them.

“Both sound intriguing. I’ll get both and come back once I have read them and let you know my thoughts.” He confirmed, not giving you any chance to respond before he headed towards the counter to purchase them and was gone out the front door without much more than a polite smile and head bob/mini bow in your direction.

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 25)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 3369

Warnings: angst and language throughout, violence/gore, blood, surgery

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @quailliamyfears, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost another month had passed since your first passion filled night with Stephen. Now, you’d been at Kamar-Taj six months. But Stephen was right about seeing Charles, so you did talk to the Ancient one and three times a week, you would visit Charles. In person, you two more than made up. He apologized deeply, explaining that he just missed you so much and worried he was losing you. You said you understood and things seemed to be on the balance with Charles and Stephen for a while. 

Stephen said he was going to the library after dinner and you said you’d be in the bedroom, putting away the clothes you had cleaned the day before. After a while, you decided to join him in the library. 

When you got in there, you didn’t find anyone up front. Instead, Stephen, Mordo, and Wong were speaking angrily. You frowned as you joined them. 

“What you just did takes more than a good memory. You were born for the mystic arts,” Mordo was saying as you walked in.

“And yet, my hands still shake,” Stephen said angrily.

Wong replied, “For now, yes.”

“Not forever?” he clarified.

“We’re not prophets.”

“When do you start telling me what we are?” Stephen demanded. At first, you wanted to reign him in a bit, remind him that he owed these people, but then you realized you slightly wanted to know too.

Wong nodded, seeming to concede. “While heroes like the Avengers protect the world from physical dangers, we sorcerers safeguard it against more mystical threats.”

“The Ancient One is the latest in a long line of Sorcerers Supreme, going back thousands of years to the father of the mystic arts, the mighty Agamotto. The same sorcerer who created the eye you so recklessly borrowed. Agamotto built 3 Sanctums in places of power, where great cities now stand. That door leads to the Hong Kong Sanctum, that door to the New York Sanctum. That one, to the London Sanctum. Together, the Sanctums generate a protective shield around our world.”

“The Sanctums protect the world, and we sorcerers protect the Sanctums,” Mordo said.

Stephen gave Wong a look filled with anger and suspicion. To be honest, you were starting to get worried too. You thought this was just a place to learn mystic arts, to heal. Now, you learned they were some sort of warriors? 

“From what?” he demanded. 

“Other-dimensional beings that threaten our universe.”

“Like Dormammu?” Stephen asked.

“Where did you learn that name?” Mordo asked. 

“I just read it in The Book of Cagliostro. Why?”

“Dormammu dwells in the Dark Dimension, beyond time. He is the cosmic conquerer, the destroyer of worlds. A being of infinite power and endless hunger, on a quest to invade every universe and bring all worlds into his Dark Dimension. And he hungers for Earth most of all.”

“The pages that Kaecilius stole,” Stephen started, the wheels turning in his head.

 “A ritual to contact Dormammu and draw power from the Dark Dimension,” Wong finished.

You shook your head, beyond confused and worried now. He looked at you and started to laugh.

“Uh, um, Okay. I’m out,” Stephen said and you whipped your face to him.��

“Stephen,” you started, a bit of shock and chiding in your tone.

“No, YN, I came here to heal my hands, not fight in some mystical war.” 

Suddenly, a bell began tolling and you looked to Stephen, then Wong. 

“London.” 

The door to London opened and a man was running out of it. He suddenly fell to his kneels with a gurgling sound and a nearly transparent spear in his back. Fear and panic overtook you. You backed up a step, holding onto Stephen’s arm.

“Kaecilius! No!” Wong shouted before a giant burst of light came flying at you all. It blasted both you and Stephen through another door, landing on the ground with debris hitting all over you. 

Stephen and you got your feet as he shouted for Wong and Mordo, but a wall built itself between you and Kamar-Taj, dropping more debris on both of you. You coughed and he led you away from the wall, further into the new building you were in. 

You two stumbled a bit and found yourselves at the bottom of a grand staircase. Stephen started to stumble a bit more, groaning. 

“Stephen, Stephen, wait,” you called after him. 

“One second,” he called back. He opened the door and you ran after him, through the doors. You stepped outside and the two of you looked around. 

“We’re in--”

“New York,” he finished. 

“So portal us back,” he suddenly said, turning to you.” 

“What? I can’t. I don’t have a sling ring. Besides, you’re supposed to be as good as I am, by now.” 

He nodded. “Right. I don’t have mine. Let’s start looking around. Maybe we can find a way back.” 

The two of you began walking around the sanctum, calling out for anyone. The two of you wound up at the end of a hallway that had what appeared to be windows looking into several different environments. Stephen opened the tall glass doors on the window, exposing both of you to a giant gust of wind and sea mist.  He saw the knob on the side of the window and turned it, making it a desert-scape. 

“Well, that’s… handy. Saves on plane ticket costs,” you murmured. 

“Yeah, no kidding.” 

The exploration continued as you walked with Stephen. 

“Did you mean what you said back there? About not continuing?” 

“Yes,” he said adamantly. 

“But--”

“Can we talk about this later, maybe? After we’re sure we aren’t being hunted by a guy who channels the dark universe or whatever.” 

“Alright,” you said before the two of you called out again. You were walking through relics, it almost looked like a museum filled with old artifacts. 

You and Stephen heard a noise making you look down some steps. You walked down them together and came to a banister overlooking more steps. You saw the wall and doors were moving oddly, as if folding in on themselves and then overlapping again. Stephen made a motion for you to stay behind him.   

“Daniel. I see they made you Master of the Sanctum,” Kaecilius said as he walked in with two others. Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound and the sight. So he was hunting you two. That made you think about Wong and Mordo and you began to worry for them. You hoped they were alright, but right now you ahd to focus on possibly keeping you and Stephen alive. 

“Do you know what that means?” the man asked. 

“That you’ll die protecting it.”

The three of them formed their glass looking blades and began fighting him. 

“Stephen, we can’t just stand here. We have to help him,” you urged quietly. 

Just as Daniel fell to his knees, Stephen leapt over the railing and shouted, “Stop!” 

But it was too late. Kaecillius stabbed the man, in the chest. 

You gasped. 

"How long have you been at Kamar-TaJ, Mister…?" he asked, and you felt extremely uncomfortable as his eyes looked dark, as if something was feeding on him. 

"Doctor."

"Just Doctor?"

"It’s Strange," Stephen corrected and you narrowed your eyes, wondering why the hell he was talking with this guy and not just escaping him.

Kaecilius shrugged and said, "Maybe. Who am I to judge?"

He pulled his blade back and stabbed Daniel again in the torso, making him fall on the ground, dead. 

This was the second man you’d seen killed in the course of ten minutes and you weren’t doing well with that. Your adrenaline hadn’t stopped pumping since the first man had fallen.

He then began to come up the stairs as the other two comrades  ran up the other sides of the walls at you two. Stephen tried to conjure a weapon but he was too slow, and the woman came flying in from your right side, kicking you both and knocking you down. 

The other man kicked Stephen, who was still standing. You formed a small whip from the very little you knew of sorcery and wrapped it around the woman’s leg and tugged. Thankfully, she didn’t expect you to do this so it gave you a small advantage that caught her off guard. This gave Stephen enough time to create his own form of a small whip and he snapped it in the man’s face before hitting the woman. 

He leapt over the railing and lassoed a vase and slammed it into the man. Kaecilius made it up the stairs and he launched the blade at Stephen, but he deflected it into the mirror dimension. You kicked Kaecilius in the knee from the side, making him drop down, but he formed a blade and tried to stab you with it. You rolled out of the way before conjuring up  a small shield before you got to your feet, running down the stairs.  

Kaecilius ordered that the woman go after you and while he and the other man went after Stephen. You frowned before turning around to face her. Your anger growing every second. You focused your energy to create a weapon most like a baton, slashing at her. 

She took her blade and cut at you. You jumped back, trying to dodge her blows. You conjured up a shield before pushing it out at her to get her back from you and when you did that, you kicked her hard in the chest. It knocked her back into the wall and you made a run for it, trying to get to Stephen. 

You followed the sounds of thuds and grunts. When you found them, Kaecililius was twisting the hallway as if it were a dryer, and Stephen was the clothing inside, getting banged around like a pinball. You formed a long lasso and snapped it at him, knocking him off his focus. The woman showed up behind you and grabbed your head before swinging you hard into the floor. You saw black, and then blinding pain. You groaned as you rolled over, but at least she stopped focusing on you. But then she focused on Stephen -- that was worse. 

She dove at him as he hung on the wall, but she missed him as he moved out of her way. She fell towards the windows that had the desert-scape on it. She landed ont he floor and stood quickly though. Stephen looked up towards you as he hung from the side of the wall. H esaw you clearly wounded and he focused back on the woman, letting go and knocking her through the windows, but he managed to hold on to the edge of the wall. But as he climbed back into the room and tried to change the access to the location, the other man ran up and began fighting Stephen. 

Kaecilius reset his concentration on you as he saw you getting up. He sent a whip at you, wrapping it around your ankle and pulling. Making you fall backwards and hitting the back of your head. Now the front of your head and the back of your head. 

As he pulled you you tried to fight it, before you formed a blade of your own and cut through the rope. He formed a clear blade again and launched it at you, and since you were only a few feet away, it plunged into your upper leg, pinning you to the floor. 

“Fuck!” you screamed. You’d never felt pain this bad. White hot stabbing pains throbbed through your leg. 

Now that you were incapacitated, he was focused on Stephen, armed with two glass blades he went after Stephen and you tried to get up, but you couldn’t. The blade was pinning you to the floor and you couldn’t grab it or you’d risk slicing your hands wide open. TKaecilius pushed Stephen away from him at one point and he ran towards you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked quickly. 

“No, but go! Go!” you managed to yell and he seemed to listen to you. He held your hand for a split second before looking back to Kaecililus who was turning around to get to him. “Go,” you whispered. He nodded, seeming to fight within himself before he grunted and ran off. He hoped he could lure Kaecilius away from you, and thankfully he was right. 

Kaecilius completely ignored you as he dashed after Stephen but you hated the idea of not being able to help so you tried to think of something to conjure. You heard a crash and some more fighting and tears started to roll down your face.

If anything happened to Stephen you weren’t sure what you’d do. 

More crashing and you were getting more angry and feeling more helpless by the second. Finally, you thought of conjuring a lasso around the blade and you ripped it out. Your medical training knew that wasn’t the best idea, but you didn’t have time for anything else. 

As you got up and limped horribly, nearly crying out every time you moved any muscle, Stephen ran into you. He was bleeding profusely, blood running all over the floor. 

“Oh my god. Stpehen,” you gasped and you tried to hold him up. He was falling towards the ground and you could barely hold yourself up. 

The man was back and you were irritated. Beyond pissed. You let go of Stephen for a moment before turning to conjure a bolt of energy to cast the guy back. The cloak that you didn’t even notice on Stephen flew at the guy and started to slam him into the wall, the floor. 

“Give me your sling ring,” you told Stephen.

“I don’t have it,” he choked out.

But that second, the man lost his sling ring. You quickly picked it up and portaled into the hospital Stephen used to work at -- the one that Christine still worked at. He was shaking horribly and his eyes were shutting in pain. 

“Hang on, just hang on,” you ordered. You helped him through the portal in a janitors closet before pulling him through the doors with all your strength to carry yourself and him. Somehow you were able to block out most of your pain, if it meant helping Stpehen. He looked as if he were dying. 

Once you got through the doors you began yelling. “Dr. Christine Palmer!” you shouted.

“Ma’am? What's wrong are you--”

“Where is Dr. Palmer?” you asked. 

“We need to get you two--”

“Where is she?” you demanded angrily.

“Nurses station!” she responded, backing away. 

“Chrisitine!” you shouted again, hoping she'd hear you. 

Thankfully, she did. 

“Y/N?” she asked, turning to face you and when she saw you trying to drag Stephen with you, her eyes went wide. “Oh my god!” she gasped. She ran over to help you carry him. “What happened?” 

“We need to get me on an operation table now. Just you. Now! I don’t have any time!” Stephen informed her and the two of you got him in the closest OR.

“What the hell happened?” she demanded, looking at you and him. 

“Stabbed. Cardiac tamponade.”

“My god, what are you wearing?” she asked him as she tore his robes open and you leaned on some equipment nearby trying not to bleed out or lose consciousness. “Chest cavity clear,” she announced as she tapped around his rib cage. 

“The blood… is in the pericardial sac,” Stephen informed her. 

A split second later, he lost consciousness.

“Christine!” you urged and she turned around to see why you were upset. You were pulling yourself to the table, your right leg practically falling off of you at this point. “Stephen? Stephen!” you tried , shaking him to see if he’d wake up.

“No, no, no,” she said desperately. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you looked at him. You squeezed your hands together tightly as you looked at him, biting your lip. Fear and anxiety  filled you to the brim. Panic began to set in as your heart raced. 

Christine attached a heart monitor to him quickly and it showed he was at least still alive. She got the needle ready to extract the blood pooling in the sac, and suddenly Stephen’s astral form burst through the air right next to you. 

“Just a little higher. Please be careful with the needle,” he said suddenly. 

She jumped back away from the table and shrieked. "Stephen? Oh lord, oh lord. What am I seeing?" she asked, looking terrified.

"My astral body," he explained.

"Are you dead?" she asked.

"No, Christine, but I am dying," he reminded and your chest restricted.  

"Right. Right," she said as she walked over and repositioned the needle just before Stephen but his two fingers in himself to light up the area to show her where the blood had been pooling. 

She worked on doing the procedure before suddenly Stephen looked up and said, “I’m gonna have to vanish now. Keep me alive, will you?”

“Thank you,” you said as you stood by the table before wincing in pain.

“Are you alright?” she asked, eyeing your leg. Blood had stained your pants and it was pooling on the floor. 

You shook your head, shooting her a look that you needed help.

“Alright. I’ll page for another doctor to come get you--”

“No, I stay here.” 

The light over the table moved and you just glanced at it, realizing what must be happening. Christine tried not to notice is as she addressed you again. 

“You’re going to bleed out, Y/N, if we don't get you fixed up--”

You looked around and walked over to the medicine cabinet and tore out some gauze packets and held them to your wound, applying pressure. 

“There? Happy?” 

“Not really, but I can’t make you do anything.”

“I just… I can’t leave him,” you said. 

She nodded. “Right, I understand.” She seemed to get moved by an unseen force and you frowned at her. “What’s happening?”

“If I had to guess, Stephen is fighting the astral form of the guy who attacked us,” you explained, looking around the room. 

“And can you, uh--”

“Project my astral form? No. Stephen is the one in the real training, I just know a few tricks,” you explained.

One second later, the heart monitor began to ring out the horrifying monotone beep that signified Stephen’s heartbeat had stopped. 

You stood up again and stood beside the bed. Chrisitne ran to get a crash cart and pulled it over, charging the paddles. 

“Clear,” she announced and you made sure to stand back. 

She hit him with the charge and you thought your heart would leap out of your chest at the sight of him coming up off the table. Another table went flying right after she did that and both of you looked its way. 

“Stephen, come on,” she urged and you looked down at him in panic. 

“Stephen?” you choked out. 

Just before you were about to go into hysterics, the monitor began beeping. You and Christine looked at each other and rejoiced. But it was quickly tampered out when Stephen busted through in his astral projection and said, “Up the voltage and hit me again.” 

Christine jumped back from him, gasping.

“What?” you asked of him, wondering if he’d lost his mind.

“Up the voltage, and hit me again.” 

“What? No, you’re heart’s beating.”

“Just do it!” he ordered before stealing away again.

She glanced at you and you firmly agreed and said, “Do what he says.”

You stepped back, she upped the charge, and hit him again with the voltage. You tried not to let the sight cause you too much distress but it was hard. The next second, every lightbulb in the OR started bursting. You put your head down and covered your eyes.  

Stephen finally came to life on the table, making Christine jump. 

"Are you okay?" she asked. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Y/N?" he asked, his eyes immediately going to you. 

"I, uh, I'll be fine as soon as someone can look at my leg," you weakly said before collapsing on the ground next to the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[elriell]

Book Rec’s

Going to try and add a lot of less known books that are amazing and not enough people talk about, this would be too long if I talked about each one in depth, so I am going to leave my fav quotes as that tends to give me a feel for books and whether I will like them and I will link the GR page for more info! Happy reading:)

Fantasy Vibes

From Blood And Ash by Jennifer L Armentrout    (CLICK THIS TOO)

“Death is like an old friend who pays a visit, sometimes when it’s least expected and other times when you’re waiting for her. It’s neither the first nor the last time she’ll pay a visit, but that doesn’t make any death less harsh or unforgiving.”

“Fear and bravery are often one and the same. It either makes you a warrior or a coward. The only difference is the person it resides inside.”

 “You're an absolutely stunning, murderous little creature.”

Storm And Fury by Jennifer L Armentrout

“What are you going to do if it does get worse?” he asked. “Maybe I’ll get myself a seeing-eye gargoyle.”

(HONESTLY BADASS GARGOYLES. SO UNIQUE AND AWESOME)

Demons At Deadnight by A&E Kirk   

“I launched into a graceful ninja-like front roll, then stood my ground to face the monstrous heathen, fearless in my determination to vanquish the deadly foe.

Nah, just kidding. I bolted, discretion being the better part of not getting dead.”

“We are killers,” Matthias said. Bad news. 

“Not girls. We don’t kill girls.” Good news. 

“She’s no girl.” Insulting news? 

“What? Of course she’s a girl.”

 “Want me to check?” 

“Shut up, Blake,” the rest of them chorused.”

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black   

“If I cannot be better than them, I will become so much worse.”

“If you hurt me, I wouldn't cry. I would hurt you back.”

“I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this is the least of what I can do.”

MM Romance

Him by Sabrina Bowen & Elle Kennedy

“Our mouths fit together so perfectly. Every time we kiss, I fall even more in love with him, and it has nothing to do with sex or lust. It's him. His closeness and his scent and the way he soothes me.”

“I…” He clears his throat. “I’d let you do it, though.” My hand freezes in his hair. “You would?” Wes nods. “I’d let you do anything to me, Canning.”

Misfits by Garrett Leigh (Poly romance, its just so perfect ala herongraystairs!)

“Learn something. Read a book. Explore someone. Anger is just a hole where your life could be.”

In The Absence Of Light by Adrienne Wilder

“The light is a funny thing, Grant. We think it shows us what we need to see, but in reality, it blinds us. That’s why I brought you here. I wanted you to see me.”

“Morgan may be autistic, but he is a normal man with a mental condition, not a mental condition who is a man.”

HOneStly JUST READ IT

The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic

“It’s not the world that’s cruel. It’s the people in it.”

“I'm not a math problem." "But I'll still solve you."

“Is your learning curve a horizontal line?”

“Who said 'please' that made you hate the word so much?"  Andrew gazed at him in silence for a minute. "I did.”

“I didn't think I was a personal problem. You hate me, remember?" "Every inch of you," Andrew said. "That doesn't mean I wouldn't blow you." 

EVERY QOUTE IS ICONIC TBH 

Vampires, Angels & Greek Mythology

Bloodlines by Michelle Read

“The greatest changes in history have come when people were able to shake off what others told them to do.”

“Takes a lot of tries before you hit perfection." He paused to reconsider that. "Well, except for my parents. They got it on the first try."

“No, thank you," said Adrian. "These hands don't sully themselves with fighting.”

“Everything's about my personal entertainment. The world is my stage. Keep it up- you're becoming a star performer in the show.”

Angels Blood by Nalini Singh

“Some things were worth the dance with danger.”

“You do realize this makes your wings even more unique." "Are you saying you shot me as a cosmetic procedure?”

“You ask a lot of questions for a dead woman.” “What can I say? I prefer to die well-informed.”

“You don't fear me," he said now. She wasn't stupid enough to lie. "I'm petrified. But I figure you didn't make me come all this way just so you could push me off the roof.”

Dark Lover by J.R Ward (warning OTT vamps if thats not your jazz either skip)

“Some bridges you crossed on your own, no matter who drove you to the edge”

“Vengeance was one hell of a roommate.”

Half-Blood by Jennifer L Armentrout

“Two people see each other across a room or their skin brushes. Their souls recognize the person as their own. It doesn’t need time to figure it. The soul always knows… whether it’s right or wrong.”

“It’s just words and words mean nothing. Only action does.”

“People do the damndest things when they’re in love.”

“There is a difference between love and need. Sometimes, what you feel is immediate and without rhyme or reason.”

Assasin-y Goodness

Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers

“When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.”

“I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face.”

“Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.”

“There is no shame in scars, Ismae.”

Daughter Of The Pirate King by Tricia Levenseller

“I am me because I choose to be me. I am what I want. Some people say you have to find yourself. Not I. I believe we create ourselves to be what we want.”

“Lass, you've the face of an angel but the tongue of a snake.”

“Everyone has something dark in their past. I suppose it's our job to overcome it. And if we can’t overcome it, then all we can do is make the most of it.”

“Waiting. Not waiting. One lover. A hundred lovers. There should be no judgement either way. A woman is not defined by what she does or doesn‘t do in the bedroom.”

“Even a man who’s spent his whole life at sea has reason to fear her when she’s angry. But not I. I sleep soundly. Listening to her music. The sea watches over me. She protects her own.”

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

“No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for 'good luck.”

“It's not natural for women to fight." "It's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand.”

“I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.

“The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.”

“Kaz leaned back. "What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet?" "Knife to the throat?" asked Inej. "Gun to the back?" said Jesper. "Poison in his cup?" suggested Nina. "You're all horrible," said Matthias.”

The Kiss of Deception by Mary E. Pearson

“It can take years to mold a dream. It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.”

“Taking another life, she had whispered, even a guilty one, should never be easy. If it were, we'd be little more than animals.”

“Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky,”

“We all have our different skills. You’re patient to a fault, which sometimes doesn’t work to your advantage. I, on the other hand, have the patience of a wet cat. Only on rare occasions does that come in handy.”

“Maybe there were a hundred different ways to fall in love.”

Circus Vibes

Caraval by Stephanie Garber

“Every person has the power to change their fate if they are brave enough to fight for what they desire more than anything.”

“She imagined loving him would feel like falling in love with darkness, frightening and consuming yet utterly beautiful when the stars came out.”

“Some things are worth pursuit regardless of the cost.”

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

“You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows that they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift.”

“Secrets have power. And that power diminishes when they are shared, so they are best kept and kept well. Sharing secrets, real secrets, important ones, with even one other person, will change them. Writing them down is worse, because who can tell how many eyes might see them inscribed on paper, no matter how careful you might be with it. So it's really best to keep your secrets when you have them, for their own good, as well as yours.”

Six of Hearts by L.H Cosway

“Note to self: Never try to out-trick a trickster.”

“So why not live with the magic? Be a kid again and believe in the fantastical. Life is more fun with a little smoke and mirrors.”

“We all have thoughts that we would never, ever vocalise. And people who say they don’t are liars.”

“I once read that people who have imaginary friends never reach out to touch them. There’s some part of their brain that subconsciously knows it will break the spell. That’s what it feels like with Jay.”

Amour Amour by Krista & Becca Richie

“We all traverse in and out of people’s worlds, leaving footprints. Some larger, some smaller, but there is always a mark. We can’t sweep it away.”

“Life is a rollercoaster with no volunteers. We’re all forced to take a seat and ride it out.

“I’m average. I’ve been average most of my life, but there are moments where I feel extraordinary. Invincible. Able to conquer any fear and step outside any box. There is no illusion, no fantasy. I can climb a forty-foot pole. I can fly eighty-feet in the air. I can be taller than tall. It’s a dream that I’m living. Every day. With him.”

More M/M Romance

The Song Of Achilles by Madeline Miller

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

“And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.”

“He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.”

“He is half of my soul, as the poets say.”

Axel’s Pup by Kim Dare  (Shifter Romance & BDSM FYI if thats not your jazz)

"I want to screw you, and tie you up, and make you writhe from-you know all that. But I want so much more. I want the whole thing, not just a quick scene. I want twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I want you to be mine. I won't take anything less."

Aristotle And Dante Discover The Secrets Of The Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

“In your dream. You were looking for me.""I'm always looking for you," 

“He was funny and focused and fierce. I mean the guy could be fierce. And there wasn’t anything mean about him. I didn’t understand how you could live in a mean world and not have any of that meanness rub off on you.”

“He looked like an angel. And all I wanted to do was put my fist through his jaw. I couldn't stand my own cruelty.”

“One of the secrets of the universe was that our instincts were sometimes stronger than our minds. Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere.”

Shattered Glass by Dani Alexander

"Tell me something good about your life," I whispered, needing to hear that he wasn't as broken as I thought him to be.[...]"You." It was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.”

“Is he my competition?” I asked. “Everyone is your competition.” Peter lifted his hand to his eyes and began lowering it incrementally. “It goes normal human beings, crazies, republicans, my hand, imaginary characters, corpses and then, in a moment of lustful psychosis, you.” By the time he was done, his hand was below the table.

Romance 

Kiss The Sky by Krista & Becca Richie

“You’re not a pit stop. You’re my finish line. There’s no one after you.”

“People hope to touch the sky. I dream of kissing it.”

“I love the way he’s staring at me. It makes me feel more than just beautiful. I feel like I’m his. Like no one else could possibly compare to me. He doesn’t even have to say the words. I see it in his eyes. I can practically read it in his mind.”

“I’ve wanted so many things in life,” he says softly, “but you’re the one that has meant the most to me.”

Translation: I love you.”

Wallbanger by Alice Clayton

“You know those moments when everything is exactly the way it was meant to be? When you find yourself and your entire universe aligning in perfect synchronization, and you know you couldn’t possibly be more content? I was inside that very moment, and fully conscious of it.”

“The right woman for you wouldn't want you to change anything about your life. She wouldn't rock your boat, she'd jump right in and sail it with you.”

“It breaks my heart the way young girls pick themselves over, never thinking they're good enough. You make sure you always remember, you're exactly the way you're supposed to be. Exactly. And anyone who says otherwise, well, poppycock.”

Ugly Love by Colleen Hoover

“Ugly love becomes you. Consumes you. Makes you hate it all. Makes you realize that all the beautiful parts aren't even worth it. Without the beautiful, you'll never risk feeling the ugly. So you give it all up. You give it all up. You never want love again, no matter what kind it is, because no type of love will ever be worth living through the ugly love again.”

“Some people they grow wiser as they grow older. Unfortunately, most people just grow older.”

“Sometimes the spirit of a man isn't strong enough to survive the ghosts of his past”

“My grandfather used to say the placement of a birthmark was the story of how a person lost the battle in their past life. I guess you got stabbed in the neck. Bet it was a quick death, though.”

On Dublin Street by Samantha Young

“Gentlemen are gentlemen in bed. They make sure you're having a good time." "I'll make sure you're having a good time, and that you're okay with everything. I just won't be well mannered about it.”

“In truth it’s difficult to describe a broken heart.”

“Sometimes words aren’t needed for you to know a change has come upon you.”

Romance Series

Paper Princess by Erin Watt

“My skill, if I have one, isn’t dancing. It’s my ability to believe that tomorrow can be a better day.”

“My life is mine. I live it. I control it.”

“but a clean knife still makes a painful wound.”

“Fate is for the weak--those people who don't have enough power or will to shape life into what they need it to be.”

Foreplay by Sophie Jordan

“I’m not going to lie to you and convince you that I’m someone good and shiny like your guy that’s going to be a doctor.”

“You can’t even see it. I’m the safest thing you’ll ever find”

“That's what I wanted. Something to enrich me, to make me feel better about the things in my life that I could never change."

Wait for You by J.Lynn.  (AKA Jennifer L Armentrout) 

“You are really…” “Amazing? Awesome?” He paused, brows raised. “Astonishing?” “I was going to go with bizarre.” “Well, hell, if I had feelings that might actually hurt.”

“As long as the sun’s shining, shit can’t be that bad.”

The Deal by Elle Kennedy

“Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don’t know how you ever lived without them.”

“I want to murder him in his sleep, A. No, I want to murder him when he’s awake so he can see the joy on my face when I do it.”

“And the most important lesson I learned is that I’m not a victim—I’m a survivor.”

Romance w/ Epic Plots

The Unbecoming Of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin

“This was the boy I loved. A little bit messy. A little bit ruined. A beautiful disaster. Just like me.”

“You could start a fire with the heat between you two.""You're mistaking bitter animosity for heartfelt affection.”

“You're supposed to say, 'All I want is your happiness. I'll do whatever it takes, even if it means being without you.'""Sorry," Noah said. "I'm just not that big of a person.”

“I’ll walk forever with stories inside me that the people I love the most can never hear.”

“We are far too screwed up for a goddamned love triangle.”

“You will love him to ruins.”

The Winners Curse by Marie Rutkoski

“He knew the law of such things: people in brightly lit places cannot see into the dark.”

“Isn’t that what stories do, make real things fake, and fake things real?”

“The Winner’s Curse is when you come out on top of the bid, but only by paying a steep price.”

“The god of lies must love you, you see things so clearly.”

Obsidian by Jennifer L Armentrout (are you getting the idea I love everything she writes? because I do!)

“I've always found that the most beautiful people, truly beautiful inside and out, are the ones who are quietly unaware of their effect."

“More books." His eyes went wide. "You have, like, them books you just said you haven't read." "Doesn't mean I won't get more books."

Angelfall by Susan Ee

“I never thought about it before, but I'm proud to be human. We're ever so flawed. We're frail, confused, violent, and we struggle with so many issues. But all in all, I'm proud to be a Daughter of Man.”

“Sometimes, as we're stumbling along in the dark, we hit something good.”

“I knew from the start that your loyalty would get you killed. I just never thought it would be your loyalty to me that would do it.”

Unique Reads

Dont Look Back by Jennifer L Armentrout

“I was stuck in a life I didn't remember, squeezed into the shell of this girl - this Samantha Joe Franco - and the more I learned about her, the more I was starting to hate her.”

“Things aren’t perfect. They are far, far from it,but they are getting there, and I wasn’t looking back. Not when there were so many good things in the future.”

Verity by Colleen Hoover

“I wasn’t heroic. I wasn’t simple. I was difficult. An emotionally challenging puzzle he wasn’t up for solving.”

“A writer should never have the audacity to write about themselves unless they’re willing to separate every layer of protection between the author’s soul and their book. The words should come directly from the center of the gut, tearing through flesh and bone as they break free. Ugly and honest and bloody and a little bit terrifying, but completely exposed.”

“No one is likable from the inside out.”

“Find what you love and let it kill you.”

Painted Faces by L.H Cosway

“We all paint on a face to show the world," Nicholas replies philosophically. "For some of us, that's quite literal.”

“I love him because he makes me laugh when I don't feel like laughing. I love him because he challenges my view of what a man is. I love him because I know I shouldn't love him and that he'll break my heart. I love him because he's a complete and total anomaly. I love him because I want to kill the sadness inside him more than I want anything else in the world.”

“You saw me, changed my life, made it better, and I’m completely fucking in love with you.”

Sorcery of Thorns by Margret Rogerson

“It was always wise to be polite to books, whether or not they could hear you.”

“Knowledge always has the potential to be dangerous. It is a more powerful weapon than any sword or spell.”

“When terrible things have happened to you, sometimes the promise of something good can be just as frightening.”

“You belonged in the library, as much as any book.”

“You unmanageable, contrary creature. You have made me believe in something at last. It feels as wretched as I imagined.”

Obviously not every book is going to suit everyone, everyone has pet peeves, and things that they won’t enjoy but hopefully this gives you some variety and I personally loved them all at some point! Pls feel free to come to my ask/chats to discuss any of them  that would make me so happy <3 this took 4 hours damn

[amixiifish]

Heat- Chapter 66:

Zuko starts to rush forward but stands still when he realizes what had happened.

“Uncle, I know you must have mixed feelings about seeing me. But I want you to know, I am so, so, sorry, Uncle. I am so sorry and ashamed of what I did. I don't know how I can ever make it up to you. I left you and betrayed you. But I'll-”

Zuko was sobbing at this point and feels them get harsher as Iroh pulls him close and hugs him tight, a few tears slipping from his eyes too.

“How can you forgive me so easily? I thought you would be furious with me,” Zuko says, choking on his tears.

Iroh clutches him tighter. “I was never angry with you. I was sad because I was afraid you might lose your way with me gone.”

Zuko looks off to the side for a moment. “I didn’t lose my way but that’s only because I had friends.”

Iroh lets him go to look him in the eye. “Friends can only help, Zuko. You did it on your own. And you did it by yourself. And I am so happy you found your way here.

Zuko lets out a wet laugh. “It wasn't that hard, Uncle. You have a pretty strong scent.”

Iroh grins. “Like the scent those boys left on you, no?”

Zuko flushes. “Uncle, please no.”

Iroh laughs. “Just know if those boys ever hurt you, they will know why I am known as the Dragon of the West.”

Zuko smiles. “I would expect nothing less.”

***

A squirrel runs along a branch before cutting to an aerial view of the rock formation. 

Birds fly past as Momo and Aang sleep on the rock formation. 

Aang slowly wakes up and yawns. 

He drowsily sits up and notices something.

Aang squints at something in the distance. “Wait. Is it just me, or are those mountains getting bigger?”

Momo chitters, grabbing a berry to eat it. 

Aang bends down and uses airbending to launch himself up. 

A tall tree that Aang lands on is his support to gaze across the vast forest. 

As he looks forward, Momo flies around and lands on his shoulder. 

Aang turns around to show a wake behind the ‘island’.

Aang jumps off the tree, panicking on his face. “They're not getting larger, They're getting closer! The whole island is moving!”

Aang leaps out from the brush and jumps into the water. 

Aang dives down as Momo lands on a branch looking down at where Aang entered the water and chitters. 

Aang swims down to inspect the ‘island’. 

Suddenly, a giant paw moves past him. 

Aang hovers for a moment in shock before swimming up to the surface. 

Aang emerges, gasping for breath, and Momo lands nearby.

“It's amazing, Momo! The biggest animal in the world! I've gotta to swim around and find its face,” Aang gushes.

Momo flies above Aang, who is swimming in the water below. 

***

Zuko sighs. “I hate to say this but Uncle, you're the only person other than the Avatar who can possibly defeat the Father Lord.”

Toph frowns. “You mean the Fire Lord.”

Zuko huffs. “That's what I just said!”

Iroh gives him a look before thinking. “Hmmm….”

“We need you to come with us!” Zuko insists.

Iroh puts down his tea cup. “No, Zuko, it won't turn out well.”

Zuko continues to speak. “You can beat him! And we'll be there to help.”

Iroh sighs heavily. “Even if I did defeat Ozai, and I don't know that I could, it would be the wrong way to end the war. History would see it as just more senseless violence, a brother killing a brother to grab power. The only way for this war to end peacefully is for the Avatar to defeat the Fire Lord.”

Zuko thinks for a minute. “And then….then you would come and take your rightful place on the throne?”

Iroh smiles at him. “No. Someone new must take the throne. An idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko briefly looks away. “Unquestionable honor? But I've made so many mistakes.”

Iroh nods. “Yes, you have. You've struggled; you've suffered, but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor, and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation.”

Zuko looks down. “I'll try, Uncle.’

“Well, what if Aang doesn't come back?” Toph inquires.

Iroh purses his lips. “Sozin's Comet is arriving, and our destinies are upon us. Aang will face the Fire Lord. When I was a boy, I had a vision that I would one day take Ba Sing Se. Only now do I see that my destiny is to take it back from the Fire Nation, so the Earth Kingdom can be free again.”

Realization dawns on Suki’s face. “That's why you gathered the members of the White Lotus.”

Iroh smiles. “Yes. Zuko, you must return to the Fire Nation, so that when the Fire Lord falls, you can assume the throne and restore peace and order. But Azula will be there, waiting for you.

Zuko huffs. “I can handle Azula.”

Iroh shakes his head. “Not alone. You'll need help.”

Zuko nods. “You're right. Katara, how would you like to help me put Azula in her place?”

Katara grins maliciously. “It would be my pleasure.”

Sokka interrupts them. “What about us? What is our destiny today?”

Iroh looks at him, knowing glint in his eyes. “What do you think it is?”

Sokka ponders it for a second. “I think that, even though we don't know where Aang is, we need to do everything we can to stop the airship fleet.”

Toph nods. “And that means when Aang does face the Fire Lord, we'll be right there if he needs us.”

Jet grins. “We’ll kick some Melon Lord butt.”

Toph and Jet fist bump and the heavy mood lessens slightly.

Toph and Suki board an eel hound, careful not to make it angry. 

Jet, Sokka and Piandao are on the ground beside it.

Piandao pats the Eel Hounds side before handing Jet a map. “Nothing runs faster over land or swims quicker than a giant eel hound. The air ship base is on a small island just off the Earth Kingdom shore. You should be able to intercept the fleet within a day's journey.”

Sokka bows. “Thank you, Master.”

Jet salutes lazily before jumping on the eel hound.

Sokka hugs Piandao tightly. 

Zuko watches from on top of Appa, next to Katara.

He was terrified.

What is he never saw these people again?

“Wait!” Zuko yells.

He jumps off Appa and goes to the eel hound.

He goes to Toph first.

He holds the young girl tightly in his arms.

“Please don’t die,” Zuko whispers. “I’ve always wanted a good younger sister.”

Toph smiles, but there are tears in her eyes. “Thanks for being such a good big brother.”

Suki grabs Zuko tightly. “I’m gonna miss you, princess.”

Zuko laughs wetly into her neck. “I’m gonna miss you too, Suki.”

And finally came the hard part.

He goes up to Jet and Sokka. 

Sokka looks at him with one look and surges forward to kiss him. “We’re going to make it.”

“You better,” Zuko responds.

Jet hugs him and presses his lips to the top of his head. “We’re going to win, sweetheart. I know it.”

Zuko nods shakily, unable to say anything.

Piandao smiles at him gently as the rest get on the eel hound again.

Zuko walks over to Iroh after hugging Piandao.

Zuko clears his throat. “So if I'm going to be Fire Lord after the war is over, what are you going to do?”

Iroh looks wistfully into the sky. “After I re-conquer Ba Sing Se, I'm going to re-conquer my tea shop, and I'm going to play Pai Sho every day.”

He flips a pai sho piece into Zuko’s hand.

Zuko hugs Iroh close. “Good. You deserve it.”

Zuko gets back on Appa.

The two groups nod at each other, ready for what’s about to come.

Katara smiles gratefully down at Iroh. “Goodbye, General Iroh.”

Iroh smiles at all the children looking at him and feels his heart shatter.

Because they were all children in the end.

Orphaned, abused, neglected, and oppressed kids.

“Goodbye, everyone. Today, destiny is our friend. I know it,” Iroh whispers.

The eel hound sets off followed soon after by Appa. 

The White Lotus wave the kids goodbye.

“They’ll make it,” Piandao says to Iroh.

Iroh smiles.

“I know they will. They must.”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Lena, Paragon of Humanity (a Supercorp alt. Crisis story), Part 1 of 2

[Warning for blood, violence, assault & battery, character death (temporary, but not resolved in this installment)]

---

Appearing on the Waverider and being declared the Paragon of Humanity is a shock for Lena in and of itself. If she had her preference, she'd be back on the Legion ship helping the so-called superfriends than be here among strangers facing an insurmountable challenge. 

But that shock wanes when-- with a sharp twist of the knife still lodged between them-- Kara volunteers even more information. "There's something you should know--" "Hey, sis." Ever the slave to his congenital need for dramatic flair, Lex thwarts Kara's voluntary truth for a second time by strolling into the too-bright room, hands tucked in his pockets with a shit-eating grin. "Miss me?"

Lena's blood runs cold as she stares, stunned, at the apparition of her brother. She's allowed a single heartbeat to wonder if the verse-warp scrambled her brains. There's no precedent that she knows of for reality jumping on the scale she'd just used-- sudden onset schizophrenia isn't beyond the realm of possibility. 

But Kara's jaw tightens irritably at his entrance, a confirmation that she sees the apparition as well, and her deep loathing for the ghost walking among them. "The Monitor revived him," Supergirl tells her, an explanation that explains nothing. "I don't know why but--" "I killed him, Kara," Lena whispers. "I swear to god I shot him in the chest I watched him bleed out--" "Never been more proud of you, ace," Lex supplies, with a grin that would almost be genuine if not for razors edge lurking beneath it. "It's rare that anything surprises me, but you did. Brava." Kara grips Lena by the hands and tugs her into the corridor, out of Lex's line of sight. As soon as his spell is broken, Lena's capable of conscious thought again, and she pulls away with a muttered curse, this time not meant for the hero. "What the fuck is he doing here," Lena demands, anger overwhelming her shock. She clings to it for dear life, because she's afraid of what will be left if it fades. Nothing, is what she fears. "What the fuck, what the FUCK," she mutters all the way down the corridor to the lab she'd first arrived in. "What the fuck, Kara!" "I know," Kara says quietly, having followed her pace for pace. "I almost killed him myself, but the Monitor says--" "Lex Luthor is still of use," the Monitor delivers himself, appearing in a flare of white light. "Fuck you," Lena snarls at the stranger, too angry and too shattered to be daunted by the display of extranormal abilities. Seven billion people on Earth-38 about to die, and you chose HIM?! A literal monster?!" "His resurrection was necessary--" "Anything he can do, I can do better. If you have me, you don't need him." But the Monitor is not swayed. "Neither of you alone can undo what has been done. If you are to return the universe to its rightful form, you must set aside the bygones--" "Bygones?" Lena exclaims. She shakes her head. "No. In fact, set aside this: your 'paragon of humanity' refuses to stand in the same room as him, let alone work with him. Either he goes, or I go." In the end, it's Kara who smoothes things over. She gestures for the Monitor to let her have a shot, and he disappears to give them a moment of privacy. Lena braces herself heavily against the console with both hands, trembling with more than just fury. When Kara finally gets a glimpse of her face, it's heavy with despair. "All those people," Lena whispers. "All those people, and he's the one who cheats death." "I know it's not fair..." "We don't know if James made it to a ship," Lena says abruptly. Her eyes close against sudden tears. "Boarding was such chaos, there's no passenger manifest for any of the ships that made it through. No one knows if he made it." Kara's heart lurches, but she remains calm. Strong. She places a warm hand on Lena's shoulder, and to her surprise, Lena doesn't pull away. "If what the Monitor says is true... if you can bring the universe back-- don't you think it'll be worth it? You're his sister..." Lena doesn't respond right away, and when she does her voice shakes for a whole other reason. "All my life, I was an orphan. But I wasn't. I was Kara Danver's best friend," she mutters, half under her breath. "But I'm not. Then I was the woman who murdered her own brother. But now I'm not even that anymore." Lena shrugs. "If I'm none of those anymore...what else am I?" But Kara doesn't say that. She curls a hand around Lena's wrist, silently willing to look at her. "You're Lena Luthor," she tells her friend, offering a small but genuine smile. "And you're still all of those things. For better or for worse. And you're still my best friend. That never changed, Lena." Lena shakes her head against the claim, but her fingers grip Kara's tighter. With a soft huff, she straightens to face the challenge at hand. "Right. I still killed my brother in cold blood," she says, her voice sharpening into a new edge, "and that's not a thing Lex Luthor forgets. Has your Monitor considered the fact that he'll return the favor the first chance he gets? His still of use Lex Luthor will murder his paragon of humanity?" Kara wraps Lena in a firm hug, one that Lena finds herself returning after a moment of silent hesitation. She's still angry, her chest still hurts with the ache of Kara's lies, but their world was just destroyed, and Lena's identity feels like it's following on Earth-38's heels, and the warm circle of Kara's arms feel like the only thing keeping her atoms together. "I won't let that happen," Kara vows. "I promise." However intimate their moment of reunion, it's still the end of the world, and at the end of the world heroes and paragons have greater duties than promises to each other. While Lena works with Lex in the lab, Kara and the remaining paragons fulfill their own roles. It pulls Kara away from her watch dog duties, pitting her against the anti-monitor while Lena finds a way to restore the multi-verse. The solution is relatively simple. They have the Book of Destiny, but not someone guaranteed to survive the encounter with their sanity intact. Of course, Lena has someone who can. Hope. Lena and Lex restore the AI saved on the thumbdrive, and then divide & conquer to alter Hope's programming while generating a means to let her interface with the Book of Destiny. Lena suspects that the ordeal will fry Hope completely (along with every other electrical component in the lab, if not the entire ship) but Hope is ready and willing. It is what she was created to do. Working with Lex while being completely devoid of any softness towards him is a new experience for Lena. Her wariness gives her new independence, and allows her to interact with him on equal footing. Their banter is familiar, but sharp, and her new ease with herself gives Lena a new sort of comfort. It feels almost... normal. When Hope is ready and Lena pushes the button, she and Lex are alone on the ship. The others have taken a jump ship to face the anti-monitor directly, and honestly, Lena believes it's their best chance for survival, considering that even if their plan works, the energy wave from the Book of Energy could tear the ship apart. The surge of energy rocks through the ship. Sparks fly, the lights go dark, and it's a long moment before Lena can believe they're still alive. "Gideon?" It takes a long while, but Gideon comes back online with a garbled voice but some external sensory capability. "All matter-based realities have been restored." Elation bubbles up inside Lena, and she turns to Lex with a broad grin that shines with triumph. "It worked! We did--" She turns into her brother's fist as he shoves it deep into her abdomen. The blow knocks the breath from her, and Lena's ears ring as she slowly comes to the realization that Lex hasn't punched her. Fists clutching at his lapels, Lena turns her gaze down between them, where his hand curls around the bloody hilt of the knife protruding from between her ribs. She gasps, staggering, only to be steadied by her brother's gentle grip. "You did it, ace," he delivers. His voice is devoid of emotion-- of rage, of pride, of hate. His tone is perfectly congenial, and it chills Lena to the bone. "I knew you would. And now that you've served your purpose--" With a vicious tug, Lex pulls the knife from her flesh. A grunt pulls from Lena's throat, only to be strangled once more when Lex plunges it back in. "No one will miss you." When Lena sags, Lex props her up, tipping her chin up so their eyes meet. She stares into his fathomless gaze as it regards her with disdain. "The Paragon of Humanity," he sneers, but then softens with rationality. "I suppose it's fitting. You certainly embody all that it is to be human. Fallible. Weak. Governed by emotion." Each point is punctuated with another thrust. Each one drives more of the breath from Lena's chest, until she has nothing in her but an empty hollow. "You are alone, Lena," Lex murmurs in her ear, holding her close. "And more than that, you are mortal." With a final twist of the knife, Lex rips the blade free and tosses it aside. It clatters into the shadows, far beyond her reach. He releases Lena as well. A small shove sends Lena staggering against the console, but her efforts to catch herself are immediately thwarted by hands that grip her head and slam it against the pedestal. Lena hits the ground blindly, her sight stolen by the darkness and ebbing consciousness. Lex's foot slams into her belly. Once. Twice. And then there's utter stillness, broken only by Lena's own grunting gasps for air. "I congratulate your tenacity, Lena. Watching you pulling that trigger-- it was the most Luthor I'd ever seen in you." Lex crouches beside her, stroking the side of her head. Lena doesn't even have the strength to flinch from his touch. "When I negotiated your survival in exchange for availing my services to the Monitor, I won't pretend that it wasn't because I needed your intellect. You are truly brilliant. The efficiency of your mind, your intuitive leaps of logic-- you've come a long way from the little girl I taught to play chess." Lena blinks against the throbbing of her skull, dislodging the tears that have gathered on her lashes. They drip across the bridge of her nose, and fall soundlessly to the floor. Her brother's fingers brush the hair from her temple, smearing blood across her skin. After a moment, his hand tightens cruelly. Her mind has disconnected from from her body-- Lena imagines she can see herself as Gideon must: a pathetic, pile of flesh and bone bleeding out under the heel of a monster. But then her imagined gaze catches on the dark shadow encircling her own wrist: a watch. The beacon. She watches her fingers reach blindly for the watch face, and then blinks back into her body just in time to see her brother offer one last kindness. "In the spirit of that efficiency," he delivers smoothly, "know that I would never condemn to you outlive your purpose." Just as the tip of her finger brushes the sigil on her watch, Lex picks her head up with both hands and slams it against the floor. There's no pain. No fear. There's absolutely nothing. --- Kara returns to the Waverider with victory in her throat. Their communications with the ship have been disrupted, but they can see that it's still intact, and when they dock, the newly awakened hope inside expects to find Lena on the far side of the door. What they find instead is a dark and empty ship, utterly silent save for the ear-splitting alarm only Kara can hear. "Lena." Her heart pounds thunderously, pulsing against her vision as she strains to look through the bulkheads that stand between the docking bays and the lab. The energy wave has disrupted something in the make up of the metal hull-- Kara can't see through it. She starts to run, panic overtaking her as she realizes that the only heart she can hear beating over the beacon's shriek is her own. The lab's door won't open-- sabotaged by Lex on his way out. Kara punches through it with her entire body, and the metal tears like aluminum foil under the impact. Inside she finds silence, blood, and Lena. Kara knows before her hands make contact that she's too late. Lena's too pale, too silent, and when Kara scoops Lena's upper body into her lap, her friend's body feels empty. "No," Kara's vocie shakes. "No, no, no, Lena, please..." A flash of light pierces the darkness, and the Monitor appears, his features grim and impassable. Kara glares up at him through her tears, her anger reaching for its only available target. "She told you this would happen..." she croaks. "SHE TOLD YOU!" A blast of heat vision crackles ineffectively against his breastplate. The rest of the crew fills in around him, and murmurs of dismay cloud the air around them, shocked at the violence visited on one of their own on the cusp of victory. "She told you," Kara echoes, hugging Lena close to her chest, "and you still insisted on keeping her killer here. Because his use outweighed the threat he posed." "Lena Luthor's loss is tragic," the Monitor intones, bending to one knee to meet Kara's gaze. "But she fulfilled her purpose, as did her brother." "Yeah, but it's her brother who gets to keep breathing?" Kate demands, catching Kara's anger and fueling it with her own. "Where's the justice in that?" "Lena dealt the first blow," comes the flat reply. "I am not responsible for the actions between mortals--" Kate grabs him by the cowl and hauls him up, away from Kara. Away from Lena. Scowling, she shakes her head. "This time you are! YOU brought him back, YOU insisted on keeping him alive! Lex may have been the one to murder her, but Lena's blood is on your hands too." "Kate," Kara breathes, her chest quaking with the effort to keep her wits about her. "The book... bring me the book." An electric surge of hope surges in Kate's chest, and she releases the Monitor to sweep towards the interface, where the book lies under a neat of sensors and wires. Just as she reaches for it, it dematerializes like so much ether. "What the fuck--" She whirls to face the Monitor, who draws himself unapologetically to his full height. "The Book of Destiny cannot erase the sins of the mortal world. It's power is too dangerous--" Kara coughs a laugh, her cheeks streaming with tears. "Lena used that book to save the universe. ALL the universes. She of all people--" "I am sorry for your loss," the Monitor cuts in. "But my task is now complete. It is time for me and the book to remove ourselves from the timeline, before reality is forever altered." "No, wait--!!" He disappears without another word, leaving Kate to tackle nothing but air, and Kara reaching for a hope just out of reach. They stare at the vacated space he'd just inhabited, and not for the first time wonder if they'd been helping a good guy after all. It certainly doesn't seem like it, when the engineer of their salvation lays dead in her hero's arms. Kara's features fall, a mask of stunned and empty disbelief. For long minutes no moves. No one speaks. Finally, Kara numbly reaches for the watch on Lena's wrist. Her fingers brush cold skin on their way to the el mayarah still pulsing with a faint glow. With a single press, the sound in Kara's ears cut out, silencing the beacon for the last time.

[rxdonmyledger]

The Haunted Manor-An Avengers story.

A/N: Hi everyone! It’s been a while since I wrote something but there you go! Since we are in October and that means spooky time, I wrote this piece! I used some prompts in this list but if you want me to read something, please, feel free to send me more requests! 

And if you like my writing and want to support it, you can buy me a Ko-fi!

Prompts: I keep hearing noises coming from the attic…”  “I had a dream that I killed you.” “P-please… put the knife down.” “Maybe an exorcism is in order…?” “Wasn’t someone murdered in this house? Why are we here?”

Words: 3,077

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: None, I think. Some spooky descriptions. Loki being a cutie.

This was Tony’s fault. Of course, it was him. Tony freaking Stark, the only one capable to suggest the idea of spending a whole week in a haunted house to celebrate Halloween. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream.

“Oh, c’mon, grumpy faces. Cheer up! We’ll have fun!”

“Wasn’t someone murdered in this house? Why are we here?” you asked, hand on your hip and staring at him with an eyebrow raised. Bucky, Sam, and Steve were still taking the different bags out of the cars.

“To do something different for a while. Did you have a better idea?”

“You could have created your own ghost” Clint said.

“Holidays in Bora Bora” retorted Natasha.

“Drinking ale while fighting in Muspelheim” everybody stared at Thor, who had his usual big grin. “What? It’s fun. That’s where Loki and I did ‘Get help’ for the first time’

“By the Norns’ sake, I tell you it’s humiliating” The God of Mischief groaned while taking his own bag and walking to the front porch, where you all were standing. You smiled sympathetically at him and shrugged.

It had been difficult for the team to accept Loki in the team as one of the Avengers. His mischievous nature was something to consider and they were not sure if he could be trusted. Thor had insisted and all of them decided to give the trickster an opportunity.

That didn’t mean it was easy, though. They usually shut up when he entered in a room or they refused to let him know about the upcoming missions. You hated that attitude and one night you scolded all of them.

“You all keep saying you’re the Earth mightiest heroes. You are an example to children around the globe!”

“He tried to subjugate a whole human race, Y/N” Steve said, raising his voice, which was completely out of his character.

“He was Thanos’s prisoner! For God’s sake, even Thor explained his behaviour and accepted to take responsibilities for his brother’s actions!”

They didn’t say anything, so you just growled and picked up your food, heading to the living room while listening to their voices coming from the dining room, where you all were having lunch.

Well, not everybody.

Loki was staring out the window, with his hands behind his back, staring at the vast landscape around the compound. His food remained untouched, still in his plate. You sat down. There was no need on making some unnecessary noise, so he knew you were there. It took him a moment. But he knew. His silky and smooth voice made you shiver.

“There’s not many people who can sneak up on me, little one” he said, not even turning to you.

“Natasha was one of them” you replied with a smile, taking the fork and starting to eat. Loki smiled and turned to you.

“Well, you were her apprentice. I suppose you learnt some things from her. Shall I call you little spider?”

“I don’t think she’ll like it” you said with a chuckle, shaking your head. It was then when Loki realised you had your own plate.

“What’s that?”

“This?” You pointed at the food, staring at his blue orbs with a wide smile. “It’s called food. Its purpose is to give you energy, so you don’t die. Something I think you failed” you added, pointing at his own plate with your chin.

“Smart-ass” Loki sat down in front of you, frowning and crossing his arms. “Why would you like to eat with me, Y/N? Aren’t you afraid I will conquer your world?”

“Listen…” you sighed, not knowing what to say or how. “Their behaviour is…”

“Justified”

“Shut up” He made a movement as if he was zipping his mouth and you were surprised someone as cocky and smug as Loki Odinson was obeying you. “I want to apologise. For everything. I understand your situation and I don’t want you to be alone. Although, I’ll leave if that’s what you want”

Loki started at your face for a moment, taking his time. You started to feel nervous under his intense gaze. Probably he was trying to figure if you were lying or not. Why would you? Still, you understood Loki’s distrust. How many people had been kind to him? Excluding his mother and now his brother, you suspected that just a few.

Instead of kicking you out, Loki said nothing and started to eat, under the astonishes gazes of the team, who observed the scene from the door. They had come to apologise to Loki, but then decided that they’d come later.

You had become friends after that. Well, if you could call friendship to the weird relationship you had.

Loki would come and go whenever he pleased. He would talk to you about books, Asgard and even the other worlds. You even remember falling asleep listening to his deep voice talking about Ymir and the creation of Midgard. Next morning, Loki would be gone, but a tray with warm pancakes would be waiting for you on the table.

“Okay, guys. We’re the Avengers. I’m sure it’ll be fun”

“Pepper has been regretting those words since she met you”

The team roared in laughter at your joke and you smiled sweetly at Tony, who tried to hide his smile and put on an indignant face, crossing his arms and shaking his head. Loki was smirking while staring at you.

“Okay, this house is not big enough for all of us. Just a few lucky ones have a single room”

You were one of them. The distribution was: Scott and Sam, Bucky and Steve, Natasha and Clint, Loki and Thor, and finally Tony, who denied having altered the results.

You all entered the old Victorian manor Tony had rented for a whole week. On the outside it was all black and the red roses in the garden caught someone’s eye. Inside the floors were wooden and the walls were covered with an old purple tapestry and black designs. Even the furniture seemed antique.

“Tony, so this house…they say is haunted?” Natasha asked while staring around her. Tony nodded. “Is it a business, then? Like, people come here expecting a supernatural experience?”

“Exactly. They promise adventure and a terrific night”

“What’s the name of the house again?”

“Allerdale Hall”

You snorted and shook your head, rolling your eyes. Of course, the owners had decided to name the manor after the Crimson Peak movie. Original. Except it was not. The team observed you as they all knew it was one of your favourite movies.

“I wouldn’t mind having my own Thomas Sharpe, I must admit”

Natasha and you stared at each other and laughed, shaking your heads and walking behind the rest of your friends, exploring the house.

“You don’t need him. Loki looks a little bit like him”

“I don’t” the God replied bluntly, staring at Clint, who shrugged and let his body fall on the couch. Loki looked at you and you mouthed ‘Just a little’, which made him shake his head.

The manor had the typical Victorian distribution, a large chimney in the main living room, a dining room with wonderful furniture. Hell, it had even a library. Something that caught you and Loki’s attention. You exchanged a look and you both knew that was your favourite room.

“Remember that book from Agatha Christie? And there were none? Imagine that we all start dying in this house” Your friends turned to look at you dead in the eye, serious faces all around you. Except Loki, who, apparently, found it amusing.

“Just to be clear, if any of us dies tonight I’m accusing you of murder” Tony said before heading to his room.

You smiled and sighed. It’ll be a long week.

“No…I can’t”

“I know you can. You have to”

“Loki…”

The screams were more audible now. It felt like the demons rising from Hell and chasing you. Something was hitting the windows and you thought they’d break. You could hear Natasha’s voice calling for Clint. Tony trying to reach Steve’s hand. Bucky trying to protect Sam.

They were losing. You were losing.

Unless…

“My dear…do it. I can only feel you”

It was then when you raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

Bang.

Bang.

That awful sound.

You tossed and woke up with your limbs tangled in the sheets. Your forehead was covered in sweat and you had a lump in your throat. You swallowed repeatedly and tried to breathe properly.

It was a terribly vivid dream.

Someone was chasing you. The house… The haunted house. And the only way to save all of you was to kill Loki. You could see his blue eyes on you, observing your features with a trembling smile.

No. Nonsense.

It was the bloody mood Tony had set on you all. It was that, and nothing more. You shivered when a cool breeze came through the windows, rocking the curtains.

Huh. Weird.

You were sure you had closed them before going to sleep. You decided not to overthink and stood up, closing the windows and putting on your slippers. You walked out the room, trying to keep quiet so you didn’t disturb anyone. Yet, the house didn’t want to cooperate as the wooden floor seemed to crack everywhere you stepped on.

After spending the day wandering around the house and the impressive garden, you all had dinner in the dining room, enjoying some time for yourselves. Being the Avengers was not a synonym for having holidays, truth be told.  Tony had insisted on telling ghost stories to set the mood for Halloween and the team had agreed. Thor and Loki had told some creepy Asgardian stories that were not creepy enough.

“C’mon, guys. Children won’t be frightened with that”

Loki decided to accept the challenge and, since he had spent most of his life in the palace’s library, he decided to tell some terrifying stories about Jötunheim and the Frost Giants. He also told you about Helheim and the fate of those who ended there.

It was a pretty scary story and you and Thor knew the Trickster enough to see he was proud of his job. Yet, Natasha won the round. You still remembered her soft and vibrant voice telling you Russian fairy-tales, with exotic names pronounced in her mother-tongue and dark plots. By the time she finished, all of you were too scared to say anything.

“Okay, guys. Time to sleep. And remember not to die or bother the ghosts in here!” Tony had said before heading to his own room.

And here you were, wandering around a Victorian manor, with a fluffy pyjama and fluffy slippers, walking to the kitchen to have some water. That would settle your nerves. Yes, that’s what you needed.

You were about to close the fridge when a voice startled you, making you to grab the first thing that was by your side, which happened to be a knife. You looked around you and found Loki leant against the door frame, with his hands up and a terrified look in his features.

“I swear to the Norns, Loki! I almost had a heartattack!” you said, almost screaming but yet, keeping your voice low so you wouldn’t wake up the rest of the team.

“My apologies, my little one” He replied, still starting at you. “P-please… put the knife down.”

You followed his gaze and you noticed he was looking at your hand, which grabbed a knife tightly. Hell, even your knuckles were white. You sighed and put it on the counter, leaning against it and rubbing your forehead.

“Sorry. I just had a terrible nightmare and wanted some water…” You realised Loki was observing you with a worried gaze and he walked towards you.

“What kind of dream? Y/N?” he repeated after a moment. You were silent and hesitated about telling him the nature of your dream. Should you?

“It’s nonsense”

“It’s not if it left you in such a disturbed state”

You sighed and hugged your body, feeling his hands on your arms, rubbing them to make your body warmer.

“I had a dream that I killed you.”

Loki stayed silent for a moment and you thought that he’d be worried or pissed off about it. To your surprise, he just shrugged and smirked, staring at you smugly.

“My little spy, I am quite a few thousands of years old. You’re not the first one. You’re not that special” he retorted with a sarcastic tone and you elbowed him on the ribs, hearing his soft chuckles. “Why don’t we go back to bed? I could read something from the vast library we both fell in love with”

You smiled and opened your mouth to reply when a noise startled you, making you to look around. It was like the noise of heavy steps on the wooden floor. The walls seemed to be alive too and you could hear a faint cry in the middle of the night.

“Those noises…can you hear them?”

“Y/N… A house as old as this one becomes, in time, a living thing. It starts holding onto things... keeping them alive when they shouldn't be. Some of them are good; some of them bad... Some should never be spoken about again”

You turned your head and raised your eyebrow, crossing your arms and staring at him. Loki had pressed his lips and was trying to keep his laughs from escaping his mouth. He might be the God of Lies, you thought, but he was a terrible actor.

“Okay, now you’re quoting Tom Hiddleston in Crimson Peak”

He was about to reply when other noises became louder. Steps. Agile. Faster. You and Loki exchanged a gaze and you took the knife again while the God had a green ball of magic fire in his left hand, prepared to attack.

Suddenly, Clint’s bow was on sight, followed by the archer’s body and Natasha behind him. She was wearing her pyjamas too but had her blasters around her wrists. When they noticed who you were, they sighed in relief.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same” replied Natasha while turning off her devices. You all relaxed and left the weapons. But you were not calm for a long time. You soon saw Steve’s shield covering Sam and Bucky. Tony was following them with his blasters around his hand. Thor had come running with Stormbreaker in one hand and Mjolnir in the other one. You all stared at his night clothes. He was wearing an open robe and some shorts with flamingos on it.

“Is this a night party and nobody invited me?”

“Really funny, Tony. What are you all doing here?”

“I keep hearing noises coming from the attic…” said Bucky.

“Me too”

“We did too” replied Clint before sitting on the counter.

“C’mon. The house is old. Probably that…”

A horrific sound made you feel goosebumps and you all resumed your defensive positions, prepared to attack whatever it was. Maybe it was a burglar, thinking there was something valuable inside the manor. The screeching sound became louder and you swallowed hard.

“What the hell…?” you heard Natasha mutter, her back against Clint’s.

“Maybe an exorcism is in order…?” Tony whispered before a high-pitched scream was heard all over the house.

“This is like Siberia all over again” you muttered to Loki.

“You and I have a different concept of Siberia”

“If we can live after this, I swear to God, you’ll tell us what happened there” Sam shouted before Steve started to move towards one of the doors.

Suddenly, the light went off.

“Everybody, stay calm!” Tony shouted and Loki lighted the room with one of his green fires. “Thank you, Reindeer. Now it’s even creepier”

“Come in the light, ghost. Face the rage of thunder!”

“Thor, that does not help”

“It was your freaking idea to come here. If we don’t die, I promise I’ll make Pepper a widow!” you screamed when something hit the roof, making the whole house to tremble. You hugged Loki without noticing while the rest of the team tried to protect themselves.

“I think we should all go back to our rooms”

“Yeah. That’s how every horror movie goes” said Clint with a snort. “Get on different groups. And then we’ll be dead”

“I think Nat’s right” Steve replied, trying to keep his composure. Tony agreed with him and crossed his arms.

“We should try and get some sleep. Maybe the owners have this prepared”

The team sighed, tired and sleepy and decided it was a good idea. They stayed in the kitchen for a moment before leaving the place. You were still clinging to Loki like a koala and looked at him.

“Can I sleep with you?” you whispered with a soft voice and Loki felt his heart melting. His soft chuckles rumbled in his chest and he pressed a kiss on your forehead, nodding.

“Go with the Agent. I’ll be back with a giant cup of chocolate milkshake and cookies”

You smiled happily and kissed his cheek before running behind Natasha, asking her to not leave you alone. The kitchen was empty except for the God and Tony, who was smiling.

“I owe you one, Tin Can” Loki said, resting against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, smiling. Tony raised his hands, shaking his head.

“I owe you too. Damn it, how did you do the trembling thing? It was fantastic!” Loki smirked and Tony shook his head. “Yeah, okay. Magic and stuff. Really good. Thank you for helping me”

“Pranks are my specialty. Call me when you need me again. Especially if the target is my brother.  I’ve never seen him that frightened” he added with a surprised tone before laughing. Tony joined him before raising his finger.

“I assure you, trickster. Hurt Y/N and you’ll desire to be back to Thanos’s”

“There’s no need to threaten, Stark. I like her. And no power in the nine realms will take her away from me” He answered solemnly before placing the food on a tray.

“Goodnight, Loki”

“Goodnight, Stark”

The God of Mischief walked to the stairs with a smile on his features. His hands held the tray while he imagined you laying by his side. Your soft aroma in his sheets. His head buried in your hair. Your soft hands against his.

No. Definitely, he was not letting you go.

[woossexyponytail]

The Nature of the Beast (Part 26)

Masterlist

As the group made their way to Yonsei University they split up in two groups Jin, tae and hobi said they'll ask around campus while Namjoon, Yoongi, y/n, jungkook and jimin went to talk to the roommate

Jin, Taehyung and hobi stood on the football field talking to the head cheerleader on the campus

"I hope she's dead in a ditch." The cheerleader said crossing her arms

"Wow. That's extreme." Hobi frownd at the girl

"Yeah, well, you know what? That's the only excuse I'll take. I mean, I can't believe Lilly would just take off without Katie! Arms up! And then right before the big game, too?" She yelled getting heated

"So, Lilly, your mascot, just left school?" Jin asked

"Yeah Sure. Happens all the time." The girl shrugged

"Just like every other college, one in five students just disappear and transfer out in the middle of the night." Another girl said walking up to the group

"The usual." The head cheerleader nodded

"Actually, super unusual." Jin said as hobi and Taehyung shared a look

"I still don't get why Lilly left, though. Oh! Maybe she found where the volleyball team ended up after that away game." The new girl said turning to them

"All we found was a bus full of empty clothes."

"Great prank, huh?" The girls smirked high fiving each other

"And, you know, we didn't even have, like, a weird wart outbreak this year. You know, those warts that give you screaming nightmares?" The girl said

"Also not a thing." Jin said

"Okay, and now the cheer!" The head cheerleader said running over to the group of girls

"Five, six, seven, eight! Appareat! Diabolus Ignis!"

"What?!" Jin asked shocked

"Appareat!"

"I'm sorry. W-What are you cheering?" Jin asked interrupting them

"That's our school motto. We've been cheering it forever." The cheerleader said smiling at him

"Yeong-ho was right Yonsei equals weird." Jin said to tae and hobi

"Appareat! Diabolus! Ignis!"

"Do we even want to know what they're cheering?" Hobi asked

"No. You do not." Jin said shaking his head.

Namjoon, Yoongi, Jungkook, Jimin and y/n spoke to Katie the missing girl roommate at her dorm

"Have any idea where Lilly was heading that night?" Namjoon asked the girl

"With the big game this weekend, Lilly was making the party rounds. Fraternities hires her to be the mascot at their party, pump up the crowd. The night she disappeared, she was supposed to go to Omega Theta. Man, does that house have a weird history." Katie said

"By 'weird history,' you mean they throw parties without beer?" Yoongi asked

"No. Like, you need an invite to get into the house on paper. And there's all these rumors about rituals in the basement animal sacrifices and stuff. Lilly heard all this from Professor Bancroft in her architecture class." The girl said

"Professor Bancroft? Professor Amia Bancroft teaches here? Are you kidding me?" Namjoon asked

"Professor Bancroft is the authority on Colonial American architecture, man. You are so lucky! I-I-I would I would have killed to have taken classes from from from And you you don't even care." Namjoon said looking at Yoongi, Jungkook, Jimin and y/n

"Nobody does. But I would love to know where this Omega Theta house is." Y/n asked

"My experiences with frat houses are limited, but I don't think evil rituals are supposed to sound like a kegger." Namjoon whispered to the group

"I wouldn't be so sure." Jimin asked looking at the invite on the table

"What is that? Was someone roasting marshmallows?" Yoongi asked looking up at the celin

"Nothing! Urm I mean I dunno hasn't been there before?" Katie said panic in her eyes

"It's definitely a burn mark." Jungkook said looking up also

"It's more than a burn. It's a glyph." Y/n said now looking at Katie narrowing her eyes at the so called innocent girl

"Sorry, what?" Jimin asked

"17th century. It's a Puritan symbol." She said keeping her eyes on katie who found her shoes quite interesting at that moment

"What does it mean?" Namjoon asked

"Devil."        

The group meet up in the court yard making a plain.

"We got to find the origin of this house. All right, I bet you anything Professor Bancroft would have something to say about these symbols." Namjoon said

"Okay, so, divide and conquer?  Taehyung, jimin, check out the house. Namjoon and hobi go talk to the professor. Yoongi and I will see what Yeong-ho has to say about any of this, y/n and Jungkook stay with the roommate you mentioned her hiding something, find out what"

"Admit it You just don't want to go to a frat party." Taehyung said pointing at Jin

"I really don't. Come on, yoongi." Jin said walking away and the group slip up.

As jungkook and y/n made their way back to the dorm to find katie, jungkook grabbed y/n arm stopping them as he looked off staring at someone

"Hey whats wrong?" Y/n asked looking at jungkook as he stood frozen "Jungkook? seriously whats wrong?"

"We gotta go now" he said pulling her along the campus as quickly as possible

"Jungkook?"

A voice they both recognize as jungkook cursed under his breath and y/n squeezed her eyes shut hoping that voice was in her head

"Hey Seohyun what are you doing here?" Jungkook asked gripping y/n's hand tightly

Seohyun to their surprise was standing right in front of them with non other then katie standing next to her, the girls eyes wide with shock looking at the two who where asking about h roommate 

"I go to school here now, what are you and ...THAT doing here?" Seohyun said with disgust in her voice as she looked y/n up and down judging her with her eyes

Jungkook pulled y/n behind him as he growled at Seohyun as y/n rubbed his back trying to calm him down

"Our business is to do with her NOT you" y/n said walking in front of jungkook but still keeping a hand on him

Katie flinched with the glare she was receiving from y/n as her body shrunk down feeling small, Seohyun stepped forward to y/n getting closer to her face narrowing her eyes at her as jungkook growls got louder

"Don't you fucking speak to her like that you slut" Seohyun yelled

"DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK TO MY GIRLFRIEND LIKE THAT YOU PATHETIC PIECE OF SHIT" jungkook yelled with more fury then anyone has seen from him

Y/n rubbed his arm once again calming him down while Seohyun stepped back eyes wide and terrified of jungkooks anger

"We still have questions for you katie about your sister can you please talk to us?" Y/n asked distracting attention from the two wolfs

Katie nodded her head as she looked back between Seohyun and jungkook

"That won't be necessary" a man came up from behind the two girls katie looked at him terrified as she started trembling in fear but before y/n and jungkook could register what was going on jungkook was knocked out and y/n had a bag placed over her head

"Thank you for the information about this witch Katie" the man said

As the man left with y/n now unconscious and being dragged by another man Seohyun stood shocked frozen by what happened.

Jin and Yoongi stood next to each other while Yeong-ho  walked around with a book in his hand reading it

"So that thing you found meant devil?" Yeong-ho asked the two wolf as he stopped and looked back at them

"That's what y/n said" Yoongi shrugged his shoulders looking bored as Yeong-ho nodded going back to the book

"Hmm, when I was talking to the cheerleaders they yelled out their motto Appareat, Diabolus, Ignis" jin said looking up at Yeong-ho as he stopped again brows raised in shock

"What the hell does that mean?" Yoongi asked looking back and forth between them confusion showing on his face

"Fire appear Devil" Yeong-ho said closing the book and putting on the table while rubbing his head

"Your shitting me, so now we have to deal with the devil" Yoongi said sighing slumping to the floor

"Sadly not Mr Min, Though many evil creatures throughout time have taken the name 'devil.' You know, kind of a shorthand, right? But make no mistake very powerful foe." Yeong-ho told the two boys

"Well, what do they want?" Jin asked

"Souls, hence the whole devil thing. They feed on souls." Yeong-ho answered

"Well, is it like does it take human form? Or is it like a weird-ass monster or what?" Yoongi asked

"Mr. Min, the thing to remember about devils is that they will never appear in a red cape and horns. They will come dressed as everything you ever wished for." Yeong-ho answered

"So we should look for?" Jin asked

"Could be anything, anyone. Though I have to admit I do not believe that demons are involved with this.." Yeong-ho said rubbing his chin

"Meaning?"

"I've been looking through all the people who have gone missing and there is a Patten"

"What's the Patten?" Yoongi asked

"Their all young witches"

"So whatever it is, it's only taking witches?" Jin asked

"Yes and no. You see I have a theory, years back potential young powerful witches would be sacrificed for their power, if they die on sacred ground their blood would flow through the earth granting more power to that coven" Yeong-ho explained

"So what a coven of evil witches are kidnapping their own people and killing them for more power?" Yoongi asked getting up from the floor

"Like I said theory, I truly hope not, that would be barbaric and not to mention highly illegal. Theory or not witches are being targeted and we know a very powerful young witch on campus right now who could be in danger" Yeong-ho said now thinking

"Y/n!!"

"Okay, so, the roommate said that we needed an invitation to get in right, so what do you want to do?" Taehyung asked Jimin as they walked up to the frat house

"Do you want to sneak in the back door or Ooh, ooh, ooh! We could pretend that we're delivering pizzas!" Tae rambled on

"Or the invitation I stole off the mascot's desk. She wasn't using it." Jimin said holding the invite  

"I really should lecture you on the morality of stealing from a missing person, but I know that I would do the same" taehyung said smiling as he knocked the door

The door opened as a guy came walking out "Hm. Invitations?" He asked

Jimin showed the invitation

"Ooh. Invitations are non-transferrable, bro. I got to keep out the riffraff." The guy said looking at it seeing it wasn't the right date

"Riffraff?! Riffraff?! Riffraff? Mate? I'll have you know I'm With-" jimin got interrupted by a girl walking up to the door

"me! Hey, Justin." The girl said smiling at the guy at the door

"Oh! Hey, Lucy. Uh, really? They're with you? Sure! Come on, guys." Justin said letting them in as the girl walked off leaving the two looking around

"Ah!" Taehyung jumped looking at the gargoyle that appeared out of nowhere jimin walked up to him not noticing the gargoyle

"Spoke to one of the brothers. Said they hired a mascot, but she never showed. And then he asked me about getting his deposit back." Jimin told taehyung

"That's cold." Taehyung said still looking at the gargoyle

"Yeah. I thought so, too, so I stole his watch." Jimin said holding up the watch

"Okay, well, did you happen to find any evidence of a missing mascot?" Taehyung asked

"Well, I haven't checked upstairs. Gonna guess that these rich frat brothers keep their electronics out in the open." Jimin said

"Wait why do they have a gargoyle in the house? isn’t it an outside thing?" Jimin asked now noticing the gargoyle

"Uh dunno?" Taehyung shrugged

"Weren't there rumors of rituals in the basement?" Taehyung asked turning around to jimin

"You're -" jimins phone rang as he picked up the phone and answered

"Hey yoongi-" jimin paused listening to yoongi on the phone as Taehyung strained his ears to hear but couldn't

"Right we're on our way" jimin said grabbing Taehyung arm running out the house.

Namjoon and hobi entered the classroom that professor Bancroft was teaching

"All right, there he is" hobi said pointing at the professor at the front of the classroom

"Okay, now, listen. Professor Bancroft's analysis is radically aggressive. Okay, he's he's a brutal academic." Namjoon warned to hobi

"Ooh! Then I'll be on my guard." Hobi said nodding sarcastically

"Yes. Uh, excuse me, sir. Professor Bancroft?" Namjoon calls walking down the stairs to the front of the room

"Yes." The professor said turning around to the two boys walking up to him

"Uh, yeah Uh, we uh Can I just start by saying what a huge fan I am?" Namjoon said smiling at him

"Hmm? Seriously." Hobi whispered rolling his eyes at namjoon reaction

"Your analysis on how the American residential dwellings changed during the 18th century just I mean, mind-blowing." Namjoon said

"That was so long ago, I'm surprised you found it." The professor said surprised

"Well, I, uh, actually wrote a small critique off of it. Uh, Kim Namjoon" he said looking down at the floor bashful

"That's you?" He asked while Namjoon nodded  

"I believe I read it. Yeah, that was a delightful little spin on my groundbreaking work. Thank you." He said smiling at Namjoon

"I-I-I-I was I was just, you know I went off of what you were doing, so it was very We hear you've been lecturing on the architecture here on the campus." Namjoon asked

"I have"

"we we were gonna we were wondering about the Omega Theta house and the occult history." Namjoon asked

"Ohh. You're one of those." The professor said rolling his eyes

"One of who?“ Hobi asked raising an eyebrow

"One of those people who believe all the nonsense about Yonsei. Listen, I hate to burst your bubble of delusion, but magic does not exist. It doesn't exist in architecture, it certainly does not exist here. There is no such thing as magic." The professor said walking off leaving them standing there shocked

"Well that went well" Hobi said glaring at the door

"I I can't believe he he just" Namjoon was shocked at what happened

As the two stood in silence Namjoon phone rang

"Hey jin whats up?" Namjoon asked still upset over what happened

"What!?, yeah we'll meet you now" Namjoon said hanging up

"What happened?" Hobi asked

"Jungkook and y/n aren't picking up, jin thinks something happened to them" Namjoon said as they ran off.

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

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QUEST 07: DISHONOUR AMONG THIEVES

QUEST SUMMARY:

Due to his status as the World Guardian, Jahaan wound up as part of Zamorak’s heist team. Their task? Steal the Stone of Jas from Sliske and return its power to Zamorak. Jahaan gets to learn more about a god propaganda had always skewed, but will he be on board with Zamorak’s plan in the end…

CHAPTER 4: THE HEIST

Morytania. The cruelest and most unforgiving kingdom in all of Gielinor. Sure, you had the lawlessness of the Wilderness, but that was mere anarchy - bandits and small groups of various races and creeds carving out a little piece of something to call their own, no matter how corrupt it was. Morytania was organised chaos, apt as it was the only Zamorakian kingdom left in the world. Morytania was a land of darkness and evil, inhabited by various creatures secluded in the region, scarcely seen outside of the kingdom’s clouds. Such species include the vampyric race, werewolves, ghosts of unruly souls, ghasts and more. While some humans still remained, most of them were helpless under the tyranny of the vampyres.

During the Second Age, the northern and western areas of Morytania belonged to Zaros, while the southern parts belonged to Saradomin and were known as the ‘Hallowland’. Once Zaros was deposed by Zamorak, the new diety gave Lord Lowerniel Vergidiyad Drakan, a vampyre lord who followed Zamorak during the God Wars, permission to conquer Hallowland as a reward for his hand in the rebellion. It wasn’t long before Draken seized Hallowland for himself and renamed the city as ‘Meiyerditch’. The citizens were held in the city so that Drakan's vampyres could drink their blood as ‘tithes’. And so, Hallowvale turned into a blood-farming ghetto, the sky permanently darkened so that vampyres were no longer hampered by the sun. The death that Drakan brought destroyed the lands of Morytania. He turned fields into swamps, and any that died in their murky depths became undead known as ghasts. Lush forests were transformed into dead clusters of trees. Since its taking, Meiyerditch has been changed into an unrecognisable public squalor. The city is entirely isolated by massive walls on its north, east, and west side, and the south-eastern sea at its southern end effectively boxes the city in. To say that the conditions within Meiyerditch are terrible is an understatement. The city is overcrowded, with humans herded into small wooden apartments that have long since lost walls and roofs to the rot. Food is rare, and many are forced to eat rats to survive. Clothing and other basic necessities are also in short supply. All throughout the city, dying citizens can be seen huddled against walls and in the dark confines of alleys. The ghetto is divided into six sectors, each of which has a number of residents barricaded within. The inhabitants of these sectors pay forced blood tithes on a rotational basis, so as to prevent the large majority from dying of blood loss. Despite this ‘measure’, many citizens do not survive the tithes.

This is only a portion of the kingdom: Mort Myre Swamp lies in western Morytania, plagued by ghasts. It was once a beautiful forest by the name of Humblethorn, but was turned into a swampland once the evil denizens of Morytania descended. The Haunted Woods is a long-dead forest, the remnants of a once luscious and tranquil forest that spread across Morytania. However, when the vampyres arrived, the whole land began to decay and rot. Then there was Mort'ton, a village situated in Morytania, south of the Mort Myre Swamp. The town was once famed for its funeral pyres, though now it is populated by afflicted, strange zombie-like creatures that are the result of a disease which spread through the town some time in the Fifth Age, infecting the population. Nowadays, Mort'ton lies in ruins and, though the Sanguinesti Affliction is no longer contagious and does not present a threat to visitors, the afflicted citizens of the town still wander the streets, and derelict buildings and streets are prowled by shades of long-dead spirits, making the place even more hostile. Directly to the south was the ramshackle town known as ‘Burgh de Rott’ that served as the base for the Myreque rebels who fight to reclaim Morytania from the vampyres.

In the late Third Age, an army of Saradominist soldiers from Misthalin, led by six brothers - Ahrim, Dharok, Guthan, Karil, Torag and Verac - attempted to eradicate the evil creatures of Morytania. These commanders had been given extremely powerful sets of armour and weapons by a mysterious stranger, a follower of Zaros, and led their army with valour through the gloomy swamps of Morytania. Saradominist forces pressed from Paterdomus on the River Salve, all through Mort Myre Swamp, to the walls of Darkmeyer itself, the capital of the Sanguinesti region and the twin city of Meiyerditch. Darkmeyer was Drakan’s residence at the time. Here the brothers made a heroic but bloody and catastrophic stand against Drakan's forces, slaying many. However, as they did, the mysterious stranger that had blessed them before their campaign arrived and told them that they must die, and when they fought with Drakan once again, their powers were greatly diminished. They received horrific wounds and many of their soldiers were killed. The troops were forced to retreat back to their camp. The army tried to treat the brothers' injuries, but their wounds proved fatal, and they all succumbed to their injuries. The soldiers were distraught; they knew that without their commanders, their campaign would end in failure. So, pausing only to bury their dead generals in six barrows, they turned back and fled to their beloved Misthalin.It was here the Barrows Brothers were laid to rest, but they did not rest in peace, becoming the property of their new master and serving as his undead soldiers.A stone’s throw to the south of the Barrows’ graves was Sliske’s lair.

Without the aid of Moia’s teleportation, Jahaan doubt he would have made it on his own. At least, not for a year of so, and likely missing some limbs along the way. It seems as if everyone else had the same idea, arriving in flurries of magic one after the other.When Jahaan landed, he instantly wretched, the sudden onslaught of decay and rot assaulting his senses, the smell unbearable. He’d landed in sodden mud that coated him up to the ankle, scrambling to free himself before he sunk any further.Welcome to Morytania, he grumbled internally, shaking off a few flakes of mud which accidentally splattered onto the back of Zemouregal’s armour. Luckily he didn’t seem to notice.The assembled group quietly trekked through a tiny portion of the swamp until they arrived at the entrance Viggora had described. Prising open the hatch, Bilrach climbed down first to scout out the area, waving the all-clear after a few moments of scanning. However, when they all made it down, their hearts collectively sank.The tunnel was lit, torches protruding from the rocky walls, and on a plinth in front of them was a small handwritten note. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a poem, reading:‘A Poem for the Lost’Think no more of the bright, blue skies aboveYou can barely see five fingers raised in the darkThe green grasses you ran through as a child are goneNo longer surrounded on three sides by earth, wind and seaDoes your red blood even flow or heart beat anymore?North, east, south and west are all the sameOnly light and dark combined can guide you now

Using a small spark of fire magic, Moia burned the note, announcing what everyone was thinking, “He’s been waiting for us.”Instantly, Zemouregal snapped around to Jahaan and cornered him against one of the walls, growling, “Did you say something to that snake, World Guardian?” he spat the title as if it were a curse. “You were so chummy with Sliske and his Zarosian pals at the Ritual, after all.”Jahaan glowered up at Zemouregal, not letting the size difference put him off as he argued, “Hey, Sliske’s no friend of mine. Don’t you start throwing around bullshit claims you can’t back up, or we’re going to have a problem.”Roaring a chilling laugh, Zemouregal smashed a fist into the rocks behind Jahaan’s head, breaking of chunks as he did so. “Is that a promise, or a threat?”“Besides, Sliske can sense the Mahjarrat,” Jahaan defiantly countered, making a good show of not being fazed by the towering figure looming over him. “He probably tracked your movements!”“We’ve been here for mere minutes,” Zemouregal snapped back. “How could he-”“ENOUGH!” Enakhra shrieked, the flames in the torches flickering with cowardice as she did so. “It doesn’t matter how he knew - all that matters is that he does. Zamorak’s plan of stealth is null and void now. We have to charge through and make sure we get to Sliske before he disappears with the Stone again.”“Enakhra’s right,” Bilrach concurred. “Stealth would have been ideal, but we can’t waste anymore time. He’s waiting for us, that means he wants an encounter.”“So we need to go, now,” Moia finished, leading the way down the tunnel. Her momentum didn’t last long before she was surrounded by cave openings on all sides, clueless as to where to go first. Above each one was a coloured paint stroke.“Vich way?” Jerrod sniffed at the openings, trying and failing to catch a scent.“Oh blast, does anyone remember the poem?” Lord Daquarius asked, realising, “I think Sliske left us clues on that note.”Looking guilty, Moia didn’t answer. After cursing an unfamiliar word, Khazard snapped, “Useless halfbreed! We needed that!”“Well how was I supposed to know!” Moia whirled around. “And don’t you DARE call me-”“Blue skies!” Jahaan loudly cut in, silencing the quarrel. Once everyone was listening, he quietly repeated, “The poem mentioned blue skies. Look for something blue.”In moments, the group had found the blue paint stroke above one of the doors and quickly proceeded into the next tunnel.“Five fingers,” Jahaan stated the next clue he remembered, unsure as to how he could remember such a poorly written poem over the name of Lord-...fuck. Nevermind, the poem is more important.Pointing to a ‘V’ over one of the doors, Bilrach announced, “The Infernal symbol for five. This way.”They continued on like this, making light work of the rest of the tunnel system until they reached one last corridor leading to a large expanse. Upon brief inspection, it was a crudely constructed maze with wight guards patrolling at every turn.After peering out from their safe spot to survey the best route, Moia declared, “We’ll have to sneak past them. If we alert them to our presence, more might arrive.”“We can handle whatever comes our way,” Khazard declared, drawing his mighty longsword, the blade glinting in the low torchlight.His ears pricked to the never-ending footsteps of the marching wights, Bilrach countered, “We might get overrun. Who knows how many he can spawn? If we falter this early on, all this effort was for nothing.”Nomad stepped forward. “Leave it to me - these wights are no match for my prowess. I’ll deliver the Stone to Zamorak with ease.”Sliding in front of him, Zemouregal sneered, “Nice try, mage, but I wouldn’t trust you to deliver a letter. You’re not leaving my sight.”“Oh, and you think you have the power to stop me?” Nomad challenged, jeeringly. “How droll.”“When this is over, I’m going to deliver you to Death in parcels.”“Gentleman, please!” Lord Daquarius interrupted, the vain in his forehead bulging. “This is getting old. Let us but aside our petty differences and take down these wights together. We must not fail Lord Zamorak.”Wordlessly striding past Lord Daquarius with a self-righteous grin carved into his ashen face, Zemouregal summoned a bolt of smoke magic and blasted the closest wight to pieces before anyone could stop him. Instantly, five more rounded the corner, their green glowing eyes lighting up the end of the hall.“There. No more debating. You’re welcome.”From the sounds of the incoming footsteps, more wights were arriving.Summoning fire to her palms, Enakhra growled, “Zemouregal? You’re an asshole.”

From the looks of the scenery Jahaan passed as he slashed through the horde of wights, Sliske had clearly devised some elaborate stealth-based mazed, complete with glowing masks to avoid, patrolling wights to assassinate, and levers to toggle certain doorways and passages.The Zamorakians had botched all of that, charging through with the subtlety and grace of a fox in a hen house.Fortunately, they didn’t get overrun by Sliske’s wights. In fact, the danger they presented was more to one another, accidentally tripping over each other’s robes in such a narrow corridor, or sending a spell that shot past an ally a little too close for comfort, or straight up just running into one another as they barged through the wights.Yes, Zamorak would be pleased...

When the group made it past the wight guards and into the next room, they weren’t thankful for what greeted them; a narrow bridge, crowding them all together once more, that approached a large set of doors. A basic representation of Sliske’s face was painted upon them. Not egocentric at all…Embedded onto either side of the doors were two wooden masks; one, the picture of glee and mania. The other, morose and miserable. Enchanted, the pair of them - magical energy radiated from their carvings, and it allowed them the power of speech.“Welcome, welcome! It’s so nice to have guests!” the joyous one cheered, the positivity positively sickening.The dirgeful mask seemed to concur that his partner was annoyingly over the top, remarking, “Must you be so incessantly cheery all the time, Light?”“Oh come now, Shadow, we hardly have visitors,” Light tried to reason, its joyful energy never wavering. It’s voice was an over-enthusiastic replica of Sliske’s own, with the dial turned up to eleven. “Besides, they’ve made it this far. They’ve come to play our little game! Won’t that be fun?”“No. It won’t be,” Shadow grumbled. Like its mania-induced counterpart, this mask, too, spoke with Sliske’s accent and intonation. However, unlike its opposite - and indeed unlike Sliske himself - this mask’s voice sounded earnest, genuine, not a parody of emotion. “I suppose the sooner they leave, the sooner I can sleep and be rid of you. Fine, fine. Get on with it.”The elation (and subsequent irritation) of Light managed to increase tenfold. “Fantastic! Now, this game is rather simple, once you get the hang of it. There’s shadow and light energy gauges on this here door, and two of you must keep them balanced at all times. Thing is, the energy beams are in the Shadow Realm, so a couple of you more skilled fellows will have to open up a window into it for the others to connect themselves to the streams. A few delicate wights are lurking around with knowledge of how to crack the door’s code, so stealing their memories will make unlocking the door a doddle. Ah, but there are a few troublesome souls waiting in the wings to overrun you all, so you best delegate a couple of agents to defend against them. Careful, too much light or shadow energy will cause a bit of an explosion, and I’m not quite sure any of you would survive, which would be such a shame.”Shadow sighed with the world-weariness of a broken down furnace. “Just steal the memories of the wights, balance the energies, unlock the door, try not to die. You don’t need all that nonsense, Light. Just get to it.”Light sighed himself this time, but his had the hint of a chuckle. “You really are no fun, are you old chap? Nevermind. It’s time for these fellows to get cracking! Best of luck, you chaotic little so-and-so’s!”

The team quickly got to work after the masks grew silent. Jerrod would sniff out an undead guard and bring him to Moia for his memories to be read. Meanwhile, Nomad and Enakhra kept the shadow and light energy streams balanced, respectively, as Bilrach and Khazard used their prowess with the Shadow Realm to keep windows into it open. Zemouregal fought to defend the room from the undead hoard that tried to break through. When the wights ended up encroaching from all angles, Jahaan and Lord Daquarius ended up fighting them off too.

Low moaning echoed from the wight Jahaan tangled with. Once it was dead for good this time, he called out, “How’s everyone doing?”Looking around, he saw Enakhra and Nomad straining under the pressure of the energy beams, trying to keep them in balance.“We need more light energy!” Nomad called out, and he would get a brief moment of respite to relax while Enakhra all but crumbled under the increased pressure.Fighting under the weight, Enakhra shouted, “Moia, how much longer?”With her hands on a prayer-like motion, Moia channeled her focus into the wight Jerrod had brought before her as it struggled under the werewolf’s grasp. “Soon. I have three of the four runic symbols required.”This wasn’t reassuring enough for Enakhra who, unfortunately, crumbled under the weight of the beam, crying out as the energy engulfed her. Hearing this, Zemouregal shot around and charged towards Enakhra, throwing her out the way as he took the weight of the light beam himself. While Enakhra struggled to catch her breath, panting and choking from the pain, Zemouregal kept up his end of the beam long enough to rectify the damage his female Mahjarrat comrade had unintentionally inflicted upon the energy metre. Soon enough, it was Nomad’s turn to bear the pressure, but luckily, he managed it well. Still, this little switch-out had left Zemouregal's corner undefended. As there seemed to be less monsters coming into his section, Jahaan pulled double duty, running across the chamber to dispatch the conga-line of wights that had piled up in such a short amount of time. Eventually, Enakhra was recovered enough to defend against the wights, but she did not volunteer to retake the beam from Zemouregal. Naturally, she didn’t even say thank you.“It’s done!” Moia exclaimed, backing away from the guard she was harvesting a memory from and sprinting over to the door, quickly inputting the combination. As soon as the last symbol was twisted towards, the assault of the undead hoards ceased, as did the light and shadow beams.After a series of clinking metallic sounds from inside the door’s mechanism, it swung wide open.Inside, straight ahead, a platform, built for the Stone of Jas.But there was no Stone of that platform.There was only Sliske.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[mrneighbourlove]

Beacon to Damnation: Ch 6. A Melancholy Sunset

Leere took a deep breath. This was it. The source of all the suffering here. The crack in space above her wracked at her mind. Being this close she also felt the effects of the Beacon more than ever. Taking a step forward she drew her scythe. If she got lucky, damaging the physical structure would be good enough to unbalance the flow of magic coursing through it. Perhaps in even an implosion, but more likely a detonation.

Taking a step forward a wave shot from the Beacon, hitting her and Carlos. Her headache turned into a stabbing pain, and they heard a hiss of wrath come from the tear. “DO NOT INTERFERE!”

Leere glared as her vision became blurred. “No! I will NOT fail here!”

Standing up she readied her weapon, when a shot ran out, the bolt of a crossbow hitting her in the head. The Princess well backwards onto the floor bleeding. Ichabod smiled from ear to ear as his mark went down. “Fall Demon! FALL!!!”

Carlos screamed in anger at her being shot. Retaliating he fired at Ichabod with his flintlock gun. The mad scientist gasped as the bullet ran through his chest. Stepping back his eyes fluttered as he felt the bullet hole. “N-No. Not yet.”

Ichabod activated a button on a console close to him. Carlos ran to check on Leere, the Beacon shouting at his mind with incoherent speech. It all hurt so much, but he wanted to make sure Leere was ok. “Please. Please, please, please be alive!”

Leere’s eyes opened slowly. Blood was dripping down her face from the bolt hitting her skin. “What? Carlos?”

“Yes. W-we need to get up Leere.”

Her vision was blurry, but she could make a shape coming up behind Carlos. “Carlos! L-look-“

But it was too late, his body was pulled back violently as his guts fell onto Leere’s chest. Carlos gurgled blood and words as the abomination loomed over him. “Goodbye Carlos.”

Multiple voices echoed as the Beacon used the Abomination as a source for the sound, mimicking all of Carlos’ loved ones. Carlos reached out for Leere as he was torn apart by the bladed arms. His head was sliced in half like a melon, brain matter spreading out on the floor. Leere crawled away in absolute disbelief and fear of her friend being massacred. She was all alone now.

“C-CARLOOOOOOOS!!!!”

The abomination stepped over his victim and silently did a slow, but firm power walk towards Leere. The crack in space sparked, and with a quick implosion of sound, fiery discord exploded outwards. Her surrounding swirled with chaos and madness around her. Pieces of metal too close to the rift started to fly into it. Her own clothes took a breeze, fluttering to the rift.

Ichabod smiled with blood now trickling out his mouth. “Heaven is upon us! Heaven! Is! Here!!!”

Leere rose to her feet and looked inside the rift. Her eyes had images that her brain desperately tried to process but couldn’t fully. She might have gone mad right there if she wasn’t already formed by years of horror. What she made out were things crawling outwards. Massive, colossal spirits.

Looking down she saw the abomination move to swing downwards at her. Snapping back to what little reality she had, Leere jumped backwards. The monster took its blade arm out of the floor and clashed both its limbs in a sharpening motion. Leere summoned a Redead to try and grasp it, but it just cut it apart with a motion downwards on the undead’s torso.  

Not giving up Leere rose up to active her scythe. The Shiekah energy blade cut open the flesh of her attacker, but the Abomination kept moving forward, its skin reforming almost instantly. Its knee cap was cut apart with a quick twirl, but that was all it would let Leere accomplish. With a furious display of motion it cut down on her hilt, and using great force, cut her scythe in two. Leere couldn’t stop herself from having chest sliced open.

Falling backwards she felt her mortality slipping. The abomination towered over, crushing the hilt into paste under its foot. Taking her blood Leere wrote symbol into the floor. “Well. Come and finish me you ugly motherfucker.

The abomination obliged, thrusting an arm to penetrate her. Leere mustered her strength and rolled to the side. Taking some of her own blood she threw it at the monster just as it stabbed her pentagram. Leere took a breath, and began her blood magic.

Making large hand motions both the pentagram and the blood on the target glowed. It stepped towards her, but stopped when she made a gripping motion at it. With wrath in her eyes, Leere slowly squeezed her fists. With her blood connection she now had total control of its flesh to toy with as she wished.

Its bones shattered and blood vessels exploded inside it. The abomination shook and shuddered as its eyes exploded into a pile of puss. Leere didn’t stop there. Bring both hands together the monster squished into a ball, more bones breaking and blood leaking out. Fury brought her hands together, squishing it on itself, a large pile of blood pouring out onto the floor under it. She twisted her hands side to side, snapping what was left into more pieces, but finally shaping it into a spear of sharp flesh and bone. With a scream, Leere took her new pile of flesh, and chucked it hard into the Beacon.

Ichabod couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  This damned devil woman was killing his angel! How!? How was she able to defy God?! When she threw the angel at the Beacon time stopped for him. All his work. All his progress for Diana. Why couldn’t he stop her!?

The sounds of madness scream and clawed at Leere to stop. Threats of death. Promises for a better life. She didn’t care. With a gleam of justice on her face, she made her mark. The Beacon cracked. And wails of insanity went through the Divine Beast as every possessed being felt there connection shattering.

“No! NoOoOoOoOoO!!!”

The demons screamed, so close to entering the new dimension for conquering. If they could not enter, then they’d take their saboteur with them to hell. All the remaining creatures ran to the Beacon as it started to break apart.

Leere looked to Carlos’ corpse. “I ended it. Like you wanted.”

Looking up she saw Ichabod on a balcony above her. Her rage ignited once more as she ran towards him. Ichabod became instantly terrified by her, this bloodied woman chasing after him. He looked once more as the Beacon took one more piece of energy, then detonated. The shards exploded all over, his dreams scattering with them. The crack in space imploded, and vanished, as if nothing had occurred. He had to rebuild.

Turning around he opened the door to escape. He didn’t get far when he felt his spine get torn into by Leere. She dug her knife as far as she could into his back. Pulling out she stabbed into him once more, this time in the shoulder, tearing his muscle apart. Ichabod elbowed her back in the face with his good arm, and desperately swiped at her with his bladed claw tool. “STAY BACK!!!”

Leere moved around his strikes, her movements keeping her one step ahead of him at all times. She didn’t need magic to finish off this disgusting piece of shit. It was more than simple to use a knife to cut his mortal coil from this earth. Ichabod made tried to throw some chemical gas at her again, but Leere caught his hand, and stabbed through his palm.

Ichabod cried out in terror and pain. “No! I can’t die yet! I need bring Diana here! I need-“

Leere cut him off with a stab to the chest, pushing him against a wall. Ichabod gasped as his lungs filled with blood. “N-no-“

Leere pulled out, and a twitch in her eye, she thrust her knife into him again. And again. And again! And again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again!!! On her final slash she cut open his throat. Ichabod’s eyes rolled back as all the pain brought him peace, if only for a moment. Collapsing, Ichabod shook and spasmed. Diana. He wanted his Diana.

Leere ended his life with one more stab to the brain, silencing all his thoughts. Her hands trembled as her whole body was soaked in blood. With this man dead no one would ever replicate what happened here.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Ding.

Her thoughts were then cut off by a massive explosion.

Looking at her pocket watch, Leere could only smile at fate. “Of course its been two hours….”

Dragging her feet forward to move, Leere felt the Divine Beast shake as hot volcanic water started to cleanse the filth that contaminated it. Her powder keg had blasted apart the engine room, enough to bust a hole into the massive colossus. She made her way to the welcome centre where all this first started for her. She saw the neck had strained itself upwards. Mustering her strength she walked the hallway. The one guard that had been stationed at the end of course died. Why couldn’t at least someone else made it out.

Turning around she saw the water start to rise, the screams of all the remaining reanimated crew making a choir of pain and suffering. She opened the final door to see the boat waiting. There was of course bad news attached to her not being stranded. Some of the creatures were trying to get on board. The Captain and the men were doing their best to keep them away.

With no emotion Leere raised a hand, summoning her Dead Hands one final time to grab all the remaining creatures, and pull them screaming into the boiling water below. Leere reached for a rope that the Captain threw her. Getting up onto the deck one of the crew men visibly jolted seeing her. An emptiness was in her eyes, and her body was covered in blood and guts. Her pale skin stained by the very vile and evil she experienced, patches of red encrusted deeply.

The Captain motioned for the crew to move out. The boat chugged and pushed out of the mouth. He turned to her cautiously. “Princess Leere….what happened?”

Leere didn’t give an answer. She looked onward as the Divine Beast sunk beneath the waves one last time. Its massive head shone in the sunset as it fell deeper and deeper, until finally it was gone from sight.

Carlos had been so happy to come here. All of the people that died here must have, even Ichabod at some point. Did all their souls find peace?

“Mamm….what did you see down there?”

“…..Something I’d give anything to unsee.”

Leere’s silhouette cast over the ship as she watched the sunset settle. An orange light cast above the waters, the darkness beneath the waves silent and foreboding. The colour also had purple hues. To be honest it was quite the sight. And all though the last of sunlight brought her warmth she did not feel it. In fact, she felt nothing at the moment. Nothing but an lonely emptiness at the bitter victory of living.

https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/171920844236/beacon-to-damnation-ch-5-source-of-madness Previous Ch.

https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/172604589196/beacon-to-damnation-ch-7-epilogue Next Ch.

[frasier-crane-style]

Thor spot

It’s not good. It’s bad. It’s “Shake Weight joke in the first five minutes bad.” It’s “Surtur gets taken out in the opening action sequence” bad. There’s no heart, no humanity. It makes the Guardians of the Galaxy look like fucking Shaft. Those movies were still about something. Ragnarok is just a massive piss-take. If GotG was sarcastic, Ragnarok is snide. 

It’s one half epic trilogy conclusion and one half total farce, which gets you Tonal Inconsistency: The Movie. Half of the film (the one the director cares about) takes place on Planet Goldblum and is all wacky fun and crazy antics. (Note: this plotline gets the most handwavey of handwaved conclusions.) The other half is on Asgard and features deaths by the hundred, including name characters being brutally murdered on screen. Like, they’re mortally wounded, then they take a finishing blow. In their first five seconds of screentime! Without a word! That’s how two-thirds of the Warriors Three goes out!

Thor doesn’t even seem to care. It’s like, hey, remember your best friend Volstagg? The guy with a wife and several kids? He was stabbed to death and Thor has more of a reaction to having his hair cut. I’m not kidding.

Like, Iron Man 3 is controversial, but at least they were trying to subvert the expectations of a trilogy capper. Ragnarok is trying to be a straight-up trilogy capper, and a silly parody at the same time, and it ends up feeling like a Muppet version of a Thor movie that could’ve been really cool. Or like a two-hour Saturday Night Live special devoted to making fun of a real movie. Or maybe someone found a way to film two hours of a fuckyeahthor Tumblr…

GotG makes jokes about having a cliche ‘team coming together scene’ that’s still an effective ‘team coming together scene’. Ragnarok would cut out all the moments where the team talks about how they’re probably going to die and Quill talks about how they’ve all lost people (because the director thinks it’s gay), and just make it a bunch of comedians riffing on each other, and then still end the scene on a big musical note as if we’re supposed to take this half-assed improv comedy seriously.

Although even the serious half of the movie isn’t that good. Hela, instead of Loki’s daughter—wouldn’t Loki as King of Asgard, now having to deal with a rebellious offspring, be a fun twist?—is now Thor’s long-lost sister. Yes, the movie is less accurate to Norse mythology than the Thor comics. As it turns out—deep breath—

Long before the backstory we were given about Odin and Odin’s dad in the previous movies, Odin was actually an imperialistic conqueror and he took over the Nine Realms (…remember this) and killed everyone! And Hela was either the Thor to his Odin or the Skurge to his Hela—the movie can’t really decide. Then, inexplicably, Odin decided to just not be a conqueror anymore and turn good. Also inexplicably, Hela disagreed with that and became evil and he had to banish her or imprison her or something.

(This seems like a good place for the Goddess of Death thing or Hel or Niflheim or the spirits of the dead to come up, but it really doesn’t. She might’ve been staying in a loft in Soho doing actuary work, we don’t know. The whole idea of Death’s Domain or her wanting to take the souls of the living, they don’t do anything with that, she just wants to conquer the universe. I guess the Hela, Goddess of Death thing is just a nickname and not something important to who she is as a person. Oh, but she makes a horde of CGI monsters. That’s an important aspect of grappling with your mortality, as personified by Hela. Sometimes there are CGI monsters that you can kill without getting an R-rating).

Of course, stating that a character with a long-established characterization was actually a totally different way that doesn’t fall in line with their personality at all, until suddenly they decided to act in-character with no prompting—good writing. It all basically makes no sense and goes down with so little embellishment that you almost feel like they’re setting up a twist, but then it turns out, no, they just really didn’t care about creating compelling characters or giving them personalities.

And I’m not sure why everyone is so aghast at Odin being a tyrant thousands upon thousands of years ago. Tessa Thompson plays a slave trader in this and Loki killed thousands so recently that people are probably still in therapy for it, but they’re both forgiven with barely a word.

I guess TT has a grudge against Hela, but then that never really comes up or has anything to do with stuff. You think she’d get some big moment of getting her revenge by striking some pivotal blow, but I guess instead she just slashed a bunch of zombies like everyone else.

You know how some comic book movies feel like they haven’t read the comics? This feels like they haven’t even watched the other movies.

Like, I think Tahiti Wahoo is under the impression that Odin rules the Nine Realms? He doesn’t. Earth is one of the Nine Realms. Hel is one of the Nine Realms. Jotunheim, etc. He and Asgard basically act as an inter-realm peacekeeping force. If the US Army shows up in Rwanda to help with a flood, does that mean the President rules Rwanda?

They also have Hela say “Odin ruled the Nine Realms. But why stop at Nine?” Because… that’s all there is. Asgard is one universe, Midgard is another universe (with Earth and Mars and Pluto and everything else in it), and there are nine universes in total. That encompasses, basically, Hell, Heaven, the mortal realm, everything. This is kinda, like, Norse Mythology 101.

To say nothing of the fact that Hela is Odin’s kid, she’s pissy and wants the throne and actually manages to take it, she’s kinda justified and sympathetic but also a real horror… she’s essentially a lady Loki. I don’t get why we waste a bunch of time with Thor discovering Loki is on the throne and removing him from the throne (in the most half-assed, anticlimatic manner imaginable), only for another pissed-off descendant to take the throne and kick Thor out. Why not just have Loki knock Thor over to Planet Goldblum himself?

Also, apparently Hela is powered by Asgard, so if you destroy Asgard, she’s powerless or dead or whatever. Is that how Odin and Thor’s power works? It seems like Thor still has his power when Asgard is destroyed. Like it’s just a part of him. So, uhm… I guess… I guess Hela’s power doesn’t work like that. Even though she has the exact same origin as him and they’re going for this whole parallel thing… but I guess no, their powers work completely differently. For no reason.

And I thought we were still doing “the Asgardians are just stupidly advanced aliens.” If so, how can Hela be Goddess of Death? She raises the dead! What science is that? If it’s some sort of nanotechnology, fuck, why bother with bodies? Just have it make a statue move around or something.

Like, all this stuff about Asgard having a secret history and Odin being a bastard and Hela being Thor’s sister—it all sounds like it should be interesting or thematic or something, but Thor and Hela and Loki just meet for thirty seconds, then the boys go off to Planet Sidequest and never see her again until the climax, so it’s just like… hey… Thor… your dad wasn’t such hot shit after all… and Thor’s just like… I guess not… but then I did already know that from the last two movies... and I also still call on his spirit for advice and support like he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi or something... and all in all they don’t really do anything with that or make anything of it. They’re just putting that out there.

In fact, Thor is pretty much just Tony Stark in this. He makes a bunch of dumb fratboy jokes and he embarrasses himself like an idiot and he has a bunch of daddy issues because it turns out his father is an ass… Now he only does the whole “you shall not triumph over the power of Asgard” stuff when it’s about to be immediately undercut… which the movies have already joked about. And Mjolnir takes a while to show up, which the movies have also already joked about.

Like, the stinger in Doctor Strange actually has Strange and Thor interacting like equals, it breathes, it’s well-paced, it feels like part of some cool adventure--then the version in this movie is edited into basically a Youtube Poop, with Thor bumbling around and being an idiot because that’s good for a cheap laugh and it’s easier than writing jokes. Look, he knocked something over!

For some reason, they specifically mention that Jane Foster was dumped by Thor. I know Natalie Portman doesn’t want to do these movies, and I guess they can’t recast the character, or cut some Gwyneth Paltrow deal to have her show up for one scene, or just refer to her without having her show up like in Ultron. It’s not like Thor has a romance in this one that would preclude him being with Jane. I guess they just wanted to say fuck you to Natalie Portman. And get a cutting-edge “she didn’t dump me, I dumped her!” joke in there. Comedic genius Tadpole Whammy, everyone.

Replacing Jane as female lead is, uhm… I don’t think they ever give her a name? Valkyrie? Although that’s her job title, not a name, so... Yeah, she’s a slave trader. That’s kind of weird. That one of the heroes in the movie is an unrepentant slave trader. She specifically takes free people prisoner and then sells them for money. Into slavery. And not to work on a farm or something either. To be killed in gladiatorial combat. So she’s like a slave trader who deals exclusively with snuff filmmakers and serial killers. Or maybe she also sells sex slaves, but it’s off-screen. I don’t know, that’s going a little far. She’s probably one of those nice slave traders. The ones who only barely torture their slaves into submission with agonizing pain. Which she does. On screen.

I mean, is slave trader the only job this woman can get? It seems like Planet Goldblum has this huge city with millions of people in it. Are they all slave traders? It seems like some of them would be weathermen or babysitters or stunt choreographers. Maybe she could get a job doing one of those things. Instead of being a slave trader. Which is what she does. For thousands of years. I mean, Hela predated Thor and Loki and Odin fighting the jötnar, and Tessa Thompson went to Planet Goldblum immediately after fighting Hela, so… that seems like a long time that she’s spent capturing people and forcing them into slavery for money. She’s probably ruined as many lives as Loki, if you tally them all up over the millennia.  Oh, but I guess she’s bisexual. That’s the important thing. Not her selling people like groceries.

Aside from, you know, the character’s involvement in atrocities, the entire thing is just a wash. Obviously, a 5’2 black Valkyrie is violently miscast—something along the lines of John Leguizamo playing a sumo wrestler or Michael Cera playing the most badass rapper on the East Side—but even if we didn’t give a fig about the cultural heritage of real life people, the movie’s conception of her wouldn’t work. She’s supposed to be some roguish, bedraggled, gin-soaked cynic that’s haunted by her past, but as played by clear-skinned, bouncy-haired Tessa Thompson, the character comes off like a pissy sorority girl who’s had too many mojitos.

Speaking of, I swear, there’s some weird racial polemic thing going on. Odin dies, the Warriors Three die (but the Asian one gets to put up a bit of a fight), Heimdall ends up getting a rather undue blowjob as a character (as he’s the only one who isn’t killed off or made a joke), Asgard turns out to be some sort of evil colonialism thing… I guess the director really wished he could be ruining Black Panther instead of Thor. And I really have a hard time imagining a movie that would make a white slave trader a hero, so are they saying that the bad thing about the American slave trade was that it was white people doing it to black people, and that if a black person enslaved a white person, it wouldn’t be so bad? That’s gotta be the nadir of identity politics.

I’m not sure why Hulk’s in the movie. He doesn’t contribute anything to the plot besides fighting one of Hela’s subbosses in a short, unsatisfying bout. His character doesn’t really change or grow, except that Bruce doesn’t want to become the Hulk for a while, but then he becomes the Hulk for the greater good because it’s an emergency. So, you know—that’s never been done before. And I guess all that control he got over the Hulk in the last few movies is gone, because now he’ll turn into the Hulk over loud noises?

Loki, he kinda screws Thor over, but also kinda redeems himself. I don’t see why the MCU needs a movieverse Magneto. I mean, he just did this in the last movie. And in this one, they take time to make fun of that for being gay shit (I mean, I’m pretty sure the director thinks this is all gay shit and no one but him is clever enough to make fun of how Thor talks funny, but). You’d think maybe they’d at least come up with a definitive end for his character. I mean, if we’re streamlining the comics and getting rid of questionable aspects, why not the part where people keep putting up with Loki and forgiving him, even after he’s responsible for mass murder?

Just… there’s no mood, there’s no tension, there’s no sense of scale or excitement or wonder. The villains have no menace. The action has no thrills. The heroes have no coolness or power. The jokes don’t undercut the atmosphere because there’s never any atmosphere established. An average episode of The Simpsons has more momentum, more romance, more adventure. Like, I’m honestly shocked Cate Blanchett agreed to this. An Oscar-winning actress, playing Marvel’s first female villain, and she’s a total nothing of a character who the movie is endlessly disinterested in in favor of Jeff Goldblum playing a meme.

Every single character is either a joke or hastily bridge-dropped in hopes of establishing some stakes, then the movie has the audacity to ask you to be emotionally involved in these characters who it treats as fucking clowns nine times out of ten. It’s like some kind of anti-storytelling. They might as well superimpose Teaspoon Westeros making a jerk-off motion every time the characters have a supposedly heartfelt moment.

I mean… I wouldn’t even be totally against a Thor movie that’s a complete lark. If there’s one thing the Batman movies have taught us, it’s that not every villain can be the focus of an epic, personal plot. Otherwise you get shit like the Riddler wanting to suck the Earth’s brainwaves or the Penguin wanting to blow up Gotham. Bond fans are downright sick of epic, personal Bond movies that change everything for 007. They just want a nice, normal mission where Bond flirts with Moneypenny, gets gadgets from Q, is ordered off somewhere by M, fights a villain, saves the world, gets the girl.

So a Thor movie that was just him and Hulk on Planet Goldblum, trying to start a revolution, that’d be fine by me. They’re going to make a million of these things anyway and they can’t all be Superman 2, so why not? As long as, in being a silly lark, it didn’t burn through stuff that could actually make for a real movie in the hands of someone who gave a shit. Surtur? Skurge? Hela? All three of the Warriors Three dying? Asgard being destroyed? Thor being blinded? Loki being redeemed? Those are big-ticket items and they deserve to be the focus of a real story, not just ‘Get Ready For Infinity War’ items ticked off in-between lengthy rounds of improv comedy. I swear, their version of Skurge redeeming himself is just that he acts like a bit of a jerk for five minutes, is kinda uncomfortable with Hela killing everyone, and then he sacrifices himself as a complete afterthought. It’s like a version of Lord of the Rings where Boromir dies in the background while Frodo and Sam are doing a bunch of gay panic jokes.

He’s not even a villain! I guess he redeems himself for the time he lifted up an axe. Yes, now that he’s made the ultimate sacrifice, that sin can be forgiven.

Just as a counterexample, I don’t think Christopher Nolan is a dyed-in-the-wool Batman fan, but he respects the material and engages with it and wants to give the audience something for their money. He’s not just saying “wow, this is a bunch of money, I can make Inception and call Leo’s character Bruce Wayne and people will like it because in one scene he wears a cape.”

[ilovelocust]

Three Shiros and A Keith (Part 2)

Note: Nearly broke this chapter up into separate parts, but I’m glad I decided to keep it together. I know normally the stuff they are talking about would be revealed later in the story, but really, when an alternate universe you shows up, you start comparing notes.

Constructive criticism and questions are always welcome.

<< First

The Champion is the first to scramble out. Keith follows, and as soon as his head clears the floor, he’s greeted by two separate metal hands. He can already see the dirty looks forming between Shiro and the Champion, so he cuts it off at the pass and grabs them both. It does not escape his notice, that his hand is the only one offered to help Takashi out.

Shiro hails the Castle to plan an extraction, while Keith sends calming stay put thoughts to Red. She’s wanted to come down since the first confrontation with Lotor’s men in the temple. Keith’s been having to constantly tell her no, every free moment he gets. Despite being the smallest of the lions, she’s still far too big to fit in the narrow over built streets of this city. Even landing would cause major structural damage to the densely packed buildings and possibly hundreds to thousands of deaths depending on the area. Besides, he’s not terribly fond of the idea of dying to a piece of falling debri from Red trying to rescue him when he doesn’t need it.

Takashi and Champion, with nothing better to do, are just kind of staring at each other. Their matching disturbed expressions while they size the other up, is honestly one of the funnier things he’s seen in a while. No wait, he takes that back, their synced raised eyebrows of confusion is way better. Keith waves them off and tries to get his smile under control. They probably wouldn’t appreciate the humor right now.

“Frick!” Shiro shouts. Keith spins around to see what’s wrong. Shiro points towards his ear, “Comms cut out, while we were talking. We’re being jammed.” Keith flips on his own comm, and tries to hail the Castle himself. Static.

“Can they track us through those?” Takashi asks. Looking between the two of them in worry.

“No.” Keith answers. There is a whole long technical explanation why, but he doesn’t really understand it in the first place and he’s busy. He flips through a couple more channels, no change in results.

“Are you certain?” Takashi hasn’t seemed to wrap his head around space technology working different than what they have back on Earth yet. He’s only had about an hour to adjust, but it’s still a little annoying. Keith gives up on his search. Everything is static. They aren’t getting through.

“Yes, we’re certain.” Shiro says, then directs himself to Keith, “I updated Allura on our situation. She’s going to contact the planetary government and try to talk them into letting us go.”

“In the meantime, I assume we’re going to try and get off planet.” Champion butts in. It’s not a bad idea. No offense to Allura’s negotiation skills, but they stole an item the local religion credits with keeping them safe from the Empire for thousands of years. He really doubts they are going to just let them go.

“In the meantime,” Shiro’s tone is too aggressive. His patience is far too thin for this early in the conversation. Keith’s never seen anyone short of Slav get under Shiro’s skin this fast just by being in the area, “We are going to sit tight and give her a chance to work. Any route to escape we take has a high chance of us having to fight our way out.”

“If every guard on this planet is the same quality as the ones we’ve seen so far, that shouldn’t be a problem.” Champion says confidently. He’s not wrong. Keith could fight his way out on his own if he had to, and he’d actually try not to kill anyone unnecessarily.

“The problem is we’re not going to risk anyones lives unless we absolutely have to. We’re going to stay here. If you don’t like that, you know where the door is. No one is forcing you to stay.” Shiro replies.

Champion and Shiro stare each other down for a moment. Shiro wins. Champion looks over to Keith instead, “How about it, you want to blow this popsicle stand with me?” He asks. They’ve just met. He may be a Shiro. That comes with privileges, but not enough that he’s abandoning his Shiro. Keith shakes his head, “Guess I’m staying then.”

That’s that. Apparently they get to stick together, and Keith doesn’t need to feel guilty about dragging someone into a universe only to abandon them.

Also, now none of them have anything to do…Boy is this awkward.

Takashi shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, then grimaces when that jostles his burn. Damn, he’d forgotten he was injured, “Do you want me to take a look at that? I’ve got some tweezers if anythings stuck in it.” That was a problem with burn wounds right? Damn, his first aid class had been the semester he and Shiro started dating. He’d memorized everything long enough to pass, and then completely forgot it in favor of things like how best to make the hot boy blush.

Takashi gives him a small amused smile, “Do you actually remember how to treat a burn?” Keith scowls at him and Takashi laughs. Calling him out was completely unnecessary, thank you very much.

“I’ll handle it.” Shiro says, walking forward and taking his younger self by the shoulder. At least, Keith thinks Takashi is the youngest, “Come on, there’s a bathroom a little ways down that might have running water.” He starts guiding him out the hall, “Keith you come too. I’m sure you’ve squirreled something away in those pouches of yours that might be handy.” Definite maybe, things did tend to accumulate in his belt pouches, but they never seemed to be the things he needed.

They all relocate, and thankfully the bathroom does have clean running water. He doesn’t ask why, he just accepts his good fortune.

Shiro works on caring for the wound, while Champion and Keith stare on. The only acknowledgment Shiro gives to the former is a quick snipe to stop standing in his blind spot.

“So,” Takashi breaks in when the silence finally gets too oppressive for him, “Is this some sort of bad future, or just generic time shenanigans?”

“What makes you think its bad?” Keith asks. Sure they’d done a bit of running from the law, but really nothing too terrible had happened around him yet.

“Well I mean…” Takashi looks down meaningfully at Shiro’s prosthetic. Shiro’s back muscles go tight, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing.

“I doubt it’s just time. I have no memory of this happening, and I doubt I’ll choose to downgrade back to flesh in the future.” Champion gestures towards Shiro’s left arm.

Shiro stops and glares up at him, “Are you done.” His voice is clipped. Champion scoffs, but doesn’t reply. Shiro looks back at Takashi. He is looking sheepish in the appropriate situation, “You’re from an alternate universe. We accidentally activated a device meant to gather information from multiple universes, and it apparently does so by bringing doubles like you here. We’ll send you home, as soon as we get back to the Castle and figure out how it works.”

“So this isn’t my future.” Takashi says in relief. Shiro starts wrapping the wound up. Turns out for once Keith did have something useful in his pouches. Who knows how old the gauze is, but it’s cleaner than someone’s shirt.

“Don’t know.” Shiro says, then adds, “Are you going to Kerberos?”

“In a couple months,” The look of pride that flashes across his face is painful to see. He remembers when Shiro looked like that. Dragging Keith out on his hover bike. Taking him on a spin through the desert just the two of them, then telling him under the stars that he’d been selected. Did Takashi do that for his Keith? Looking so happy that Keith almost forgot he was going to alone for nearly a year.

“Maybe, then. That’s where all this happened for me.” Shiro says quietly. He glances up at Champion, “Was it the same for you?” The Champion doesn’t meet his eyes, but nods stiffly. Looks like Takashi is the only one still capable of thinking of Kerberos as a good thing.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t go?” Takashi is looking between Shiro and Champion. Eyes flitting to the obvious bad things written on their skins.

“You might as well,” Champion says, “You stay behind and you’ll just die with everyone else at the Garrison, when the Empire glasses it.” Wait what?

“What are you talking about? When the Galra glass the Garrison?” Keith asks, in a mild panic. Do they need to be heading back to Earth with the lions?

“They conquered Earth, and bombed the Garrison from orbit shortly after I became a gladiator.” Champion’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at Keith. Confused by his confusion.

Keith lets out a sigh of relief, “That didn’t happen in our universe. It was over a year before Shiro came back, and the Garrison was still there when we left.” He explains.

“So go and lose an arm, or stay and risk dying? Wonderful options, you’re giving me,” Takashi cuts back in.

“Or you could just get the lions early, and skip the whole being a gladiator thing.” Shiro says. Keith likes that plan. He’s sure Takashi’s Keith would like that plan too.

“Lions?” Takashi asks, quirking his head to the side.

“They’re…” Keith starts, then stops. How do you describe flying around in magical space lions without sounding like an idiot, “I’ll show you when we get out of here. Easier than explaining.” They looked much more impressive in person, than they sounded in theory.

“Done,” Shiro announces, and with that, their one source of entertainment evaporates. The conversation dies an untimely death as they move out of the cramped bathroom…

“Anyone got any cards?”

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